Hello. It’s Sunday. There’s nothing going on. I can’t find my slippers. They are lost. Probably forever. My feet are cold. I didn’t watch any football yesterday apart from about 7 minutes of Chelsea v Swansea.
It was 1-1. This is beautifully set up now, I thought. A goal by the tall Icelandic lad would put the cat amongst the pigeons. However, the pigeons were not set upon by a feline of any kind. Or even a stoat or an otter that has a healthy dislike of pigeons and would like to go into a pigeonery and duff a load of them up.
What happened was Swansea should have had a penalty when Azpilicueta – whose name is an anagram of ‘Utilize a cap’ – handled the ball in the area and the referee, instead of giving a penalty, waved play on. There can be no other conclusion other than the referees are so afraid of a storming 13 game winning run by Arsenal between now and the end of the season that they are under instruction to make life as easy as possible for Chelsea.
I suspect they also held Lukasz Fabianski’s family captive, threatening to do bad things to them, unless he threw in a goal, for what else could explain the horrendous mistake he made when he let a Pedro shot through his arms and into the bottom corner?
The whole thing is corrupt, I tell you.
I switched off then and played a video game in which you play a sniper and you have go around sniping people with your sniper rifle and then going off and doing other snipery things. I think it’s called ‘The man who shot people from far away’.
If that’s your thing you should check it out. I like games like that, with lots of creeping around slowly and stealthily and then killing people without them even knowing it. I mean, they’re not really people, are they? They’re just sprites and pixels in the shape of people, but imagine if the world we live in is some kind of computer simulation – is this not a simulation within a simulation? What if they do feel pain?
Ah well, I’m still gonna stealthily stalk them and shoot them in the belly or the testicles.
I checked out the Arsenal NewsNow this morning and ended up blocking a load of sites because I do not care who Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain is currently courting. It’s a pop star apparently, but until this morning I had not heard of her, the beat combo she is a part of, nor do I know any of their songs. I do not wish for this to change.
There were some pictures of Mohamed Elneny and his foot which is in a cast:
Thanks Allah for everything ?? pic.twitter.com/WkjJWZntzs
— Mohamed ELNeny (@ElNennyM) February 25, 2017
Is it just me or do his pants look like a spacesuit? Just me. Anyway, hopefully it’s just precautionary, but after the news that he’s out for three weeks you can’t help but be a bit concerned it might be longer.
The EFL Cup final is on today between Southampton and Manchester United. I won’t be watching. The probability of seeing a happy Jose Mourinho is far too high. If Southampton do win, I can still enjoy it just as much after the fact, but I won’t deliberately put myself in a position where I have to witness him feeling joy.
Even if his happiness is just temporary and by late tonight he’s back in his luxury hotel suite feeling miserable writing terrible emo poetry about how sad he is.
My petrol emotion by Jose Mourinho
Jose?
No. I feel more like.
Jos-B.
Or C.
Or D.
Or even Jos-Z.
Not like the rapper. With his amazing life.
But because Z is the last letter of the Alpha-
Bet everyone hates me.
They don’t know my pain.
My soul is on fire.
I am a red Devil.
In my own crushing hell.
Why do they like the Frenchman so much?
The end.
4ever.
JM 26.02.2017
I think I need to go and get some breakfast now. Have a good Sunday folks.
