Hungover Ramblings

And..........we're back.

Good afternoon to you all at the end of what has been a very Arsenally week.

So, we went to Blackpool, and what a fuck-dump that place is. Sharing The Highbury Hotel with The Herd made for some quiet breakfasts, some interesting cigarettes out the front listening to stories of extreme adult misbehaviour, and being shat on by a seagull. Good luck? No, not really. Still, the sun was shining, casting its golden rays on a shit town. And it still looked shit.

Blackpool is full of mentals. From fifty year old men in tight leather shorts and flowing hair, to a couple in shorts and t shirts in wheelchairs with tubes up their noses, puffing on fags, it has it all. If you've never been, I heartily suggest you don't, unless it's a midweek game, then you can sneak in and out while it's dark.

Three points were duly delivered, with the usual dose of 'oh fuck here we go again' after they pulled a goal back. But, hey, we won, witnessed rare goals by Diaby and Eboue, saw the return of Mad Jens, packed up our buckets and spades and got the fuck out of there.

On Monday, rumours of goings on in the boardroom that had been rumbling on since the middle of the previous week, came to light when Stan Kroenke upped his stake in the club to 62.89%, triggered by the failing health of Danny Fiszman.

Referring to the move from Highbury (God bless her) to The Emirates, Arsene Wenger said -

'There was a team, Ken Friar and Danny Fiszman, who did all of that. It is fair to say the Club wouldn't be where it is today without Danny Fiszman'.

Quite literally, monsieur.

That Danny's thoughts were about safeguarding the future of The Arsenal in the last days of his life says a lot about the man. A classy act from a classy man. Rest in Peace, squire, and thank you.

                                            

I doubt things will change much. Those who now think we now have squillions of pounds to spend on world class players, will, I imagine, be disappointed come summer, when our manager will probably dig his heels in again and refuse to spend it. We've always had money to spend, we just don't like doing it. Peter Hill-Wood remains as Chairman, sitting at the head of the Boardroom table with his mortar board hat on his head and his cane in hand, chewing on toffees he confiscated from Eboue at training.

'Emmanuel!'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Are you chewing?'

'No, Sir.'

'Spit. It. Out.'

The lot from up the road got dumped out of The Champions League, early goal and we're back in it, my arse. You're out, it was fun while it lasted, now let's see if you can get back into it again. Doubt it, boys. As ever, one fan with a chicken on his shirt was spotted crying. Yeah, there's always one. Still, you'll probably be cheered up when monkey boy wins Player Of The Year on the back of two great performances against Inter. I'm not even going to get started on that one. Pffffft.

Today, we entertain a somewhat resurgent Liverpool side. Scrabble returns in goal, and Djourou comes back in to the side as well. Thank fuck for that. Suarez and  nineties raver boy Carroll (big box little box cardboard box) will be a handful, but I suppose we'll just have to cut off their supply by not letting them have the ball. It's so easy, isn't it?

I fully expect a score draw, I'm sorry to say, but we need the win just so we can keep touch with Man Utd, but more importantly - it will annoy my chum Graham who seemingly only starts bleating on about Liverpool when they start winning again. Yeah, until of late, he's been relatively quiet, you know.

Anything less than a win and it really will be the final nail in our Premiership title coffin. 

I'm off to Bolton next week, so if you fancy a pint, get in touch at @buxtongooner and I'll let you rub the bobble on top of my hat.

Come on you Reds.

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