WBA, 3 Points, Wenger, Alexis, Ozil And A Plethora Of Chatterings.

Greetings, Earthlings.

I’m a little unsure what stirred the desire to write in my creative loins. The notion of doing so has fluttered around my conscious mind for quite sometime, but the actual inclination itself hadn’t shown up until today. Perhaps I’m just feeling nostalgic for a bygone era in which Arsenal’s online community wasn’t a place that looked like this:

“I like Arsene Wenger”

“YOU WHAT???? F**K YOU, YOU C**NT. I’M GOING TO ARRANGE A PLANE BANNER, MAKE A V-LOG AND SCREAM AT PEOPLE IN THE HOPE THIS WILL SOMEHOW DULL THE PAIN OF KNOWING MY PENIS IS COMPARABLE IN SIZE TO A HOUSEHOLD GERBIL!!”

Perhaps I’m that narcissistic that I believe the blogging community needs me to rise from the ashes of obscurity like a glorious Bristolian Phoenix and restore some semblance of order and perspective is what has become a sea rippling with waves of utter sh*t. Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m just a bit of a d*ck. You decide.

Anyway…

Arsenal.

Tonight there’s the matter of a fixture against the Albion of West Bromwich. Given how results went over the weekend, anything other than 3 points tonight will be seen as a p*ss-poor showing, and rightly so. Unless, of course, there’s some completely unforeseen circumstance in which Arsenal can’t be held accountable for dropping points… Like, say… Tony Pulis fielding a Predator in central midfield and that Predator kills Aaron Ramsey with a laser blast yet only receives a yellow card from Bobby Madley (I just looked up who was the referee and I’ve never heard of him). 20 minutes after escaping what should certainly have been a dismissal, the Predator scores the winner from an offside position using his camouflage to deceive the linesman. In that instance, I think I’d be be a bit forgiving. And I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if the FA failed to administer retrospective punishment to West Brom for fielding a giant f**king alien with a laser gun.

The team more or less picks itself this evening, so I doubt there will be any huge surprises on the cards. Many outlets assume Arsene Wenger will opt to start our most potent attacking triumvirate; Alexis, Ozil and Lacazette. However, I’ve a sneaking suspicion our manager might go with Giroud through the middle. I’ve not exactly got a faultless track record when it comes to predicting the decisions of Mr Wenger. It’s not unlikely that I’m totally wrong. I feel that our opponents tonight are likely to defend deep and use their physicality and those are the battles that suit Giroud more that a twinkle-toed front 3.

Should that prediction come true, I guess Alexis will find himself amongst the substitutes again. He might be our greatest threat in attack, but he looks a bit miserable and cuts the figure of someone who doesn’t really want to be here. I kinda understand the idea of keeping him here, but, personally, I’d have taken the cash for him over the summer and not resigned the fans to the insufferable amount of moping that is sure to come in the following months. He’s a great player, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t abide players who don’t want to play for Arsenal. They shouldn’t be here.

Arsenal haven’t looked particularly good so far this season. A sturdy point at Stamford Bridge has gone a small way toward restoring faith in the team, but it needs to be built upon with a victory. A comprehensive 6-0 drubbing would be quite lovely. A tedious 2-0 would be nice. Any form of three points would be welcome. This is Arsenal, so expect 5-4 with the kind of defending only Jurgen Klopp’s Liverpool can better us at – maybe The Ox is some sort of sh*t omen destined to spend his career going from Club to Club and f**king everything up? It’s not inconceivebale.

Right. I’m off. There’s some comments below, use them to put out your little hearts. I shall return tomorrow.

As always; thanks for reading, you beautiful bastards.

PS. In what is undoubtedly a slightly indulgent idea, I thought I’d finish posts with the music I listened to whilst writing it:

Simian Mobile Disco – ‘Staring At All This Handle’

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