Apologies for having not been around recently. Such is life. Recently I received a guest blog from my adorable Scottish friend, Dyllan Munro, and given his customarily snarling and offensive content, I figured now, given what’s occurred with Cesc Fabregas, would be the ideal time to publish it. Be warned, folks; it’s not for the faint hearted.
Over to you, Dyllan.
Unless you’ve just regained consciousness following an ungodly amount of alcohol and excess after our FA Cup victory then the chances are you’re already sick of the transfer window. If you happen to enjoy feeding off the misery and disappointment of others however you, like Satan or George RR Martin, have no doubt been having a blast.
The sense of unity and joviality enjoyed by our fan base after our cup heroics has been smashed into a million tiny little pieces by notorious Catalan C*nt, Francesc F*cking Fabregas. Residual bitterness from the way he left has not entirely abated and I had rather hoped that the days of our summers being devoted to our former captain were over. 3 mixed years however have repeatedly shown that he was a luxury purchase for Barcelona, bought for purely emotional reasons with no real place in the team and no desire to find him one. Arsenal it seems, were eager to avoid making this mistake and since we have limited funds (read enough cash to buy a pile of ecstasy the size of Belgium) we are passed on the chance to activate his buy back clause.
If money is being kept so that our squad can be replenished after our recent departures as well as adding one or two top tier players then so be it. Although it is my fervent desire that Arsene is using the money to replace Flamini’s blood with liquid cocaine to see if he is able to decapitate Harry Redknapp in his drug fuelled rage attack. Those signings are needed urgently though since our squad is currently so thin it is reminiscent of Megan Fox with a heroin addiction. There are signs that we’ll go balls deep in our attempts to sign a top tier striker. I was rather calm at this state of affairs, especially with the prospect of ball tinglingly good striker in the distance.
Then Jose ‘The C*ckGoblin’ Mourinho decided to take a break from his usual hobbies of jizzblasting orphans and masturbating over footage of the Syrian War to shit all over the Arsenal fanbase by signing Fabregas. I understand that it makes no sense to turn him down and then be expected to dictate where he goes but football is not a logical sport. It brings out animalistic, tribal feelings and decides our emotions for days. If you want logical decision making then I suggest you start watching croquet, you son of a silly person. Barcelona have succumbed to Roman Abramovich’s advances who I can assure you, thanks to the prowess of his lawyers, is not an intolerable parasitic c*nt. This places Fabregas in a midfield already containing Matic, Hazard, Willian, Oscar and Luiz (although not for long). F*ck that. F*ck that with a rusty syringe full of syphilitic cholera.
Fabregas has ensured his love of Arsenal is well documented as is his dislike of Chelsea and Mourinho. A man who goes back on what he’s said in this manner is a man who no doubt enjoys anally pillaging Alzheimer’s patients. A man who would throw matches at burns victims to provoke some Vietnam style flashbacks. A man no doubt caught fingerbanging his dog at an early age. The extent of my disgust is such that if I was in a room with Hitler and Fabregas and could only kill one, I’d probably still kill Hitler but let that Spanish sh*tnugget know it was a pretty f*cking close call. Some Arsenal fans remained convinced we would swoop in at the last minute and take Fabregas away from Chelsea’s clutches. If that did happen I would have experienced levels of joy akin to when James discovers an interracial three-way in a lift. However, Fabregas will be spending his days at Stamford Bridge and his nights bothering transsexual hookers in piss stained doorways. I hope that his children are born fully clothed and the shock causes him to shit himself. I hope his car won’t start and he lifts the bonnet to check the problem only to find his engine is covered in angry, Arsenal supporting bees. I hope he wakes up cold, wet and alone after accepting a drink from Danny The GFP.
None of this has properly expressed the revulsion I will experience when Fabregas takes to the pitch in a Chelsea shirt. Watching him degenerate from relatively decent family man into Chelsea ColossulC*nt™ will be scant consolation. It will break our hearts watching Cesc and Jose roll up to court to deny taking part in a circle jerk outside a primary school. Viewing the international arrest warrants for him and John Terry after beating a youth player unconscious will be equally appalling.
Although, we could always get Cavani, in which case, who the f*ck is Cesc?
As always thanks to James for hosting what I suspect will have been an edited version of my work and also thanks to you for reading it.
I’ve been @GoonerDyllan and goodbye.
I edited the really, really offensive stuff out of this. You can only begin to imagine how bad some of it was!