When I re-started blogging, I made a vow; I’d blog every day. Come rain or shine, hail or snow, drizze or full-blown Armageddon, I wouldn’t fail to produce a daily entry for you wonderful folks to sink your proverbial teeth into. Today, that is near impossible. There isn’t just a premium of Arsenal news, but none. Zilch. Nowt. Bugger all. Nothing.
So, I’m tasked by myself to overcome that hurdle and the single most formidable weapon I own is an almost superhuman ability to rattle on about nothing at all. I’m pretty much doing exactly that right now. Filling the word count with overblown sentences that serve to deliver no relevant content, instead just meandering aimlessly into a sort of….errrrr…. word oblivion.
I’m now eating Chilli Heatwave Doritos. My bowels have a love/hate relationship with these maizy treats. I love to eat them – heaven knows, they are delicious – but, invariably, my bowels misbehave soon after, almost like you would imagine an unruly youth carries on when he/she doesn’t want to attend school. They’re going down a treat right now, but it is only a matter of time before all Hell is unleashed and my arsehole spits more fire than one of those rapping freestyle fellows you see all over the internet.
I guess I could mention Aaron Ramsey’s haircut… It’s bloody awful. Peroxide blonde is okay if you’re Simon Phoenix and happy to wreak havoc in a utopian future and say mean, naughty words to Nigel Hawthorne, but not suited to a young footballer. God only knows what went through Aaron’s brain when he was sat in the hairdressers contemplating a change in style…It’s testament to just how sparse pertinence is that we’re discussing something as insipid as a haircut.
And that haircut has divided our fanbase. Which, again, comes as no surprise. A f*cking kitten could divide our fanbase. There would be “Kitten Out” banners, YouTube channels set up by dribbling cretins in which they parade their stupidity with tuneless droning about how kittens should be removed for our Club immediately. As they arise, Positive Kitten accounts would be made to counter the KOBs and they’d praise each kitty poo poo dropped by said kitten until the point of our collective sanities being made questionable.
The kitten would be “dithering” if it didn’t produce its kitty poo poos quickly enough for a group of supporters used to regular bowl movement – regular bowel movements they became accustomed to thanks to the kitten’s early endeavours. It would be kitten madness. I don’t want that. I love kittens. Here is a kitten:
Damn you, divisive kitten!
Right, f*ck this…
I’ll leave you for now. Tomorrow, hopefully, there will be something meaty and substantial to discuss. I offer all my prayers this dream will come to fruition. Until that time, and as always; thanks for reading, you beautiful bastards.
PS – don’t complain if I post pictures of kittens. I won’t pay any attention at all.