Arseblog and Sparseblog.

Welcome to the Arse.

Evening, delicious lifeforms.

Seeing as James Rodriguez and I share a first name, I thought I’d give using the Colombian pronunciation a whirl. Turns out a Bristolian man referring to himself as ‘Ham-es’ comes across as a bit of a prick. Pity, becuase I quite liked the sound of it, it gave me an edge of mystery. ‘Ham-es’ ‘Raul’ Stokes is the kind of guy you can’t trust, a renegade, a nomadic, a sorcerer…. Or a bit of a prick…

I’ve not posted in a few days so I guess I should belatedly welcome Mathieu Debuchy having seen the French right-back complete his move to Arsenal. Welcome, may your days as a Gooner be rich with wondrous performances and great accomplishments.

Also, I guess I ought explain my absences. It’s difficult being the sole writer of a blog when you’ve many other things to attend to. How Andrew writes Arseblog every day without fail is beyond me. I assume he’s developed an X-Men-like mutation that enables him to suspend time and write blogs leisurely.  At present, my efforts are very much Sparseblog compared to Arseblog (I’m going to use that as the title).

Perhaps it’s the interminable dross of the summer that suspends the inclination to write as well. When those opportune moments present themselves, I scour the news only to be left overwhelmed by the sensation of “meh”. Transfer business and the circus that surrounds it can be momentarily intriguing, but that sensation quickly gets replaced by the urge to smash my head through the screen of my iMac (That’s not intentional product placement, I just feel a touch silly, in this day and age, using the term “computer”).

Worst of all, when there’s little to discuss, I resort to waffling.

Waffle, waffle, waffle, waffle.

I’m waffling right now. What the f**k am I talking about? Nothing, that’s what. My word count is being bolstered with inanities and waffly goodness.

Tomorrow, I’m going to post something decent. Today, I’ll just round things up and point you in the direction of a post my little Scottish friend, The Joktopus, wrote over on the Goonersphere site. Those of you who listen to the podcast will know I do love a joke at his expense, but that shouldn’t detract from the fact he’s someone I’ve a very high opinion of and I recommend his writing greatly. He put together this piece about the league-winning night at Anfield in 1989 and, if you have a few moments spare, take a gander.

That’s all for now. Check out tomorrow’s stuff for more

As always; thanks for reading, you beautiful bastards.

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