Good day to you, fearless reader.
I remember the first time I watched The Coen Brothers’ exceptional No Country For Old Men; when the credits rolled, I found myself thinking “Oh, is that it?”. Yesterday’s window was much the same, and taking into account the last-minute excitement of August, an even bigger moment of dejection. For the remainder of the season, we have to make do with what we’ve got (I’m forgetting we snapped up a 19-year-old German by the name of Thomas Eisfield. I think he’s one of many for the future) Rumours of Podolski or Goetze where nothing more than illusions, no wondrous surprises filled us with glee at the last moment and we all sat there glued to Twitter knowing full well it would happen. Yet we were there, weren’t we… The optimistic bunch of souls hoping to be blown away by the unexpected.
And, the moment that window shut, the club decided now would be a good time to inform us of Jack Wilshere’s latest injury complication and set back. Many smelt the proverbial Rat the moment the story appeared, and many far more in-the-know than I suggested it’s been under-wraps for quite a while. It certainly smacks of dishonesty to wait until our opportunity to reinforce has gone before announcing a vastly important player has suffered such a injury.
Whatever the truth may be, I wish him a speedier than speedy recovery. He’ll certainly be sorely missed.
That’s me done for today, so thanks for reading, you beautiful bastards. Leave a comment, leave a heartfelt exclamation of undying love for me below and follow me on Twitter – Puddleduck1978.