Saturday, December 21, 2024

Tim Stillman - Page 59

Bedroom blogger and professional Arsenal fan. Victory through sanctimony.
716 Posts

Needs must

Hello Gooners, my good friends. I’ve come to talk with you again. The fusty old cobwebs of the international break have been well and truly...

Doctor, who?

G’day Arse addicts, tis I again, that Stillman fella, come to once again dispense wisdom and bile in equal measure on behalf of you, the...

Dreadline day fun, questions remain

Ordinarily, I avoid the superficial, Sky induced hype of Deadline Day in the same manner that I’d give a live railway line a wide berth....

Inviting Italians, Murderous Mancs

Greetings Arse-connoisseurs. Well, I don’t know about you, but I feel like I spent yesterday gagged and bound in a cage of horny gorillas, with only...

A right good tongue lashing

In the age of the microwave culture, with the spectre of media hyperbole dangling grimly in front of us like King Kong’s nutsack, every week...

It’s back!

Greetings from the billowing rubble that is now my home city. The new season is but an inswinging corner kick away. The bowels are clenching,...

60,000 pitchforks climbing Everest

Another week, another set of worries, pugnaciously poured out of every sweaty orifice of the interweb. The forums are alive with the sound of unamused-niks....

Apocalyptic nutcases with megaphones

The great Arsenal garage sale appears to be gathering apace in the last seven days. Jay Emmanuel Thomas has sashayed out of the exit door...

Vacuum biles and alternative angles

In the seven days since last we spoke there have been some comings, some goings, some to-ings and some fro-ings. The gentle waft of the...

Easy like Sunday morning (and Cointreau)

I must confess that when the curtain came down on 2010-11, I lay awake at night, my grey matter all a flutter, wondering how the...

One out, sagas continue, spinal trap

Greetings friends. You find me reinvigorated this week, having spent much of the last week on a remote, sun kissed Channel Island, watching the sun...

Footballism and unvarying dancing

A slumbering summer appears to be slowly stirring from its sleep; stretching, yawning and having a good old scratch of its knackers before assessing the...

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