No news is good news? (Warning! This post is foolish and ill-conceived)

Howdy, cowboys and cowgirls.

As Beth Orton once enchantingly sung on a track by the Chemical Brothers; “Where do I start, where do I begin?”. I do like that song…

Well, the answer is nowhere. Out there in the vast, sprawling universe of Arsenal news, there’s nowt to be found but eerie silence. Since I sternly committed myself to ensuring The Armchair Gooner offers you, the delicious reader, a post every day at 9am, I’d better think of a few things to say and fast. Otherwise, this beautiful relationship we’ve built over the past weeks could be severely tested.

Hold onto your laptops, I feel the unmistakable rumblings of inspiration in my waters….

Fuck you, Champions League. Yeah, fuck you right in your bourgeois, over-exposed bottom.

What you might consider as a random outburst from a big-haired, bohemian fool is, in fact, something that’s been swirling violently around my brainbox since the dawn of a new year. Once I’d allowed the sturm und drang of recent falterings and incompetence to settle, once I’d perused the works of superior writers operating in the Arsenal community; I was struck by an epiphany. That blinding moment of clarity is deliciously simple; the Champions League, for all it’s glitz, publicity and glamour, isn’t quite the footballing utopia is made out to be.

Sure, folks would have you believe that it’s the greatest thing since Dennis Bergkamp, or as scintillating as having a immensely satisfying poo in an empty house, but I’m parking my battered bus of opinion into a different garage. So, fuck it.

Fuck it for us losing in the final to Barcelona. Fuck it for all those brilliant performances that have ended up counting for nothing. Fuck it for the sycophantic commentators at the point of orgasm simply because Xavi and Iniesta have exchanged passes 37 times in the centre circle. Fuck it for the innumerable times I’ve heard about “that special night for United”. Fuck it for the bloody theme tune that’s supposed to rouse the heart, to make your feelings soar, when it’s really a bit gratey and shit. Fuck it for the very existence of Andy Townsend; a freak phenomenon it’s hardly responsible for, but fuck it because it does nothing to eradicate that irksome sloth from the national airwaves. Fuck it for allowing him anywhere near a microphone.

Most of all, fuck it because we might not be in it next season, and it’ll mean even less to me should that occur. Fuck it for seemingly being the be-all and end-all of modern day football.

I think that’s all I’m going to leave you with today. Sometimes short is sweet – assuming those girls from my past were telling the truth, that is. I’m sure they wouldn’t lie. It’s a good size. They never actually dozed off, they were just resting their eyes…


I’m losing track of myself…

Quick! Finish the post by charmingly insulting everyone…

Thanks for reading, you beautiful bastards. Comment below – if you dare – and follow my Twitter account – @_ArnchairGooner

1 Comment

  1. shrek2be

    You can’t deny that Barca’s game is awesome. Much better than “hoof the ball and run after it” games that a lot of clubs in the PL play. If one observes both the CL finals which UTD won, they’ve had lots of luck. I believe it was then that Utd’s star and fame worldwide really rose along with Beckham’s unprecedented popularity since the 98 WC. Both acted as a marketing boon for Utd.


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