It is a good two days since the euphoria that any Arsenal fan experienced, that I find myself suffering from an aftershock of galloping shits in the Muthe household. Well we did play shitty so no surprise my bowels went for a toss…
Any who… here are the things I would have believed before the match started:
- Missus allows me to cook bacon at home
- My phone decides to sprout an additional gigabyte of RAM so that I can finally buffer one of my favourite dance videos
- For once find the elevator waiting for me
- Find water in the society’s dratted swimming pool
- Have fully functioning BSNL internet on a weekend
- Have a weekend
- Wake up to a flat stomach
- Walk around bare bodied flaunting it
- Something medicinal for the crying neighbor hell bent on gathering enough tears to have a midnight bath
- World and word peace
Trivial as the list may seem, it is an extension of what I desperately want in my immediate life. Funnily enough, it did not involve Arsenal winning against an oily title team.
A friend used “smooth sailing” as a term to forecast how Arsenal would perform in their easy fixtures after the December madness. “Smooth sailing” turned out as an obvious over statement. Arsenal’s performance until the historical 18th of January 2015 was like a Flipkart trimmer working its way though Anil Kapoor’s crotch. Never in a million world’s would I have imagined an Arsenal win over the Overpaid XI at the Slum City Stadium.
A dear friend, now half bald, laments on how pathetic Wenger has been over the years when it comes to tactics. I too, have left no stone unturned, no bile withheld, when it has come to barbecuing the ageing legend. ‘The stubborn manager needs to take a leaf out of Wojciech’s relaxing manual and spend his remaining days rolling up joints in his pajamas by the fireplace’ has been top notch advice off the top of my low notch head. Nevertheless, he taught me a lesson, and almost the whole earth, including admittedly dimwitted Jamie Carragher.
Between Coquelin’s majestic tackles and Cazorla’s 360-270-570s in a fluid motion, I was more afraid of finding him tied up in a knot, than the ever expected equalizer from shitty. However, it never came. The boys defended like men. Santi even threw his gut into a tackle.
It is the same set of players. We still have the same coach. We just had a new found belief.
Gloom and doom of a person that I can be, what would have happened to our tracking back if any of our wingers would have got injured, or if the BGF trips over his own legs and falls onto a rabbit on his sofa and dislocates his arse for 6 months, is a worry for another day.
For now, I can dream of a top 4 finish, a shining gleaming trophy for a fractured trauma victim called an Arsenal fan. Plus we have Diaby on the mend to back us up unless he decides to trim his toe nails.
More of the same please Arsenal. C’mon you Gunners !