Up For Grabs Now

Too sad to joke. Another bullying from Drogba and co and we’re nine points off the top.

It’d be tempting to join virtually all the other Arsenal bloggers in plunging headfirst into a shitscreen of negativity.

Some of them really enjoy this. Le Grumble, for example, who spent the whole summer whingeing their favourite gospel of mid-table doom, only to speedily revise their assessment as soon as we thumped Everton at Goodison on day one. From then on anything short of the treble was going to be a bloody let-down. They really get off at moments like this as it gives them the chance to crow their tabloid-addled populist told-you-so crap to anyone who’ll listen. There are a lot of ways to express thoughtless, witless bitterness – it’s just a shame these kind of people choose to blog about Arsenal rather than design tea-towels for the BNP or something.

Then there’s sites who take the chance to rip off red-top scare stories about Fabregas leaving, stories surpassed for their predictability only by Gael Clichy’s singular failure once again to challenge the attacker with the ball. Sigh.

Well there’ll be none of that here, thanks.

Out with the newspapers for a week and the rashes of negative Arsenal stories that will be filling them. Not interested. If this sounds blinkered, it’s cos I am. But then being blinkered is a bad thing only if what’s around you is worth looking at. Which the gleeful media hysteria which descends on any top 4 club that goes through a rough patch is not - witness the general amazement at Liverpool’s current league position just a week or so after most match reports on them read more like obituaries.

What you won’t find in any newspaper is perspective. Here’s some. This may well be a world exclusive:

Every pundit and his dog said Arsenal wouldn’t finish top 4 this season. ‘Spurs have spent a bit of money’, they said. ‘City look good after buying a list of players voted for by Match! magazine readers’, they may have added, scratching their chubby gut. Our last two defeats have been bitterly disappointing, but our whole season so far might be best dramatised by a short play in which Fabregas and Vermaelen, supervised by Wenger, patiently ram the pre-season nonsense back down the throats of the experts (and the brainless bloggers who believed them) piece by stupid piece.

Third place is pretty good. I’m not against marquee signings. I really enjoy shirt-holding-up ceremonies, especially if the player holding up the shirt then puts the shirt on and scores a sackful of goals. It’s frustrating to feel so close to success and that the reluctance to spend the money that is (?) available is costing us championships. But that just emphasises how good the team must already be. Without spending the money. 

With a remaining set of fixtures that look easier than a pun about John Terry’s heading ability, we will make up ground on the top two, hopefully starting with Liverpool on Wednesday, who at least carry none of the attacking menace of United or Chelsea.

Hope that soothed somewhat. Chin up. Oh, and think about Alex Song. He’s so good, isn’t he?

Barring something very surprising it looks as if the great Patrick Vieira will be returning to England, accepting the luxuriant Eastlands grass as a new pasture. Who can blame him? If I was an overrated footballer (as opposed to cruelly underrated, which is the truth) with my best days behind me (this is perhaps true) I would head to Manchester City quicker than Andepaymor?’s mother can say sorry. Unlimited cash, low expectations, a new manager – what’s not to like? A team in which well-known violently misogynist moron Craig Bellamy is regarded as wizened elder is one harboring low expectations.

I suspect along with other Gooners, I have mixed feelings about Paddy’s return. Unlike Bergkamp or Pires, I don’t look back on his departure with unbridled affection - his prolonged courtship with Madrid rankles slightly. And ‘Vieira, wohohhoo, Vieira, wohohoo’ won’t have the same ring to it if he’s wearing light blue alongside Andepaymor?, Bellamy, Tevez and the whole sorry panoply of City’s overpaid, granite-idle strike force.

It’s also unclear whether he’ll be able to do a job. He was effective in Serie A, but the games in the main less intense, and he’s never hit his Invincibles-leading peaks. Having said that, with the current state of our midfield I’d welcome him back with a friendly, exposed bosum were he offered. At least for a few weeks.

But while I know that Arsene was reported to have been toying with resigning him at the start of the season, I find it hard to imagine it ever having come to fruition. As Thomas Wolfe said – you can’t go home again. There’s a reference you won’t get on Le Grove. It’s good to be back.

So mixed feelings, all in all. What do you lot think?

In other news the expected weather did materialise, and the club wisely decided to pospone the match. As I suggested below, the was a strong risk of the Bolton fans suddenly feeling at home, running amok; reducing house prices, stealing electronic equipment and brawling with one another in the road. It would have been horrible to see. There is now also a likelihood that we’ll get to play them with the ACN crew back, and possibly Cesc. Satisfactory all round – if matches must be postponed, you want them postponed when our best players are out anyway.

Nice Thursdays?

Has anybody noticed how quickly the name ‘Emirates’ has become totally acceptable? I remember all those doubters demanding that Arsenal fans gang up and insist on the rather more awkward Ashburton Grove. It probably has something to do with ‘Emirates’ not being an very recognisable brand name – more the name of a country. It would be worse were it ‘The Durex Ultra Arena’ or the ‘Mothercare Bowl’, or ‘White Hart Lane’. Emirates is neutral, and not unpleasant to the tongue. Ho hum.

You can ponder that to your heart’s content. Rather more pressing is Bolton’s visit tomorrow night, which will give us the chance of going 2^nd again, one point behind Chelsea. Not many would have given us that when we were overwhelmed by the ghastliness of Didier Drogba last month, and it’s great that we’re so competitive. No chicken counting yet, mind. He’s off to the ACN to ply his brand of muscular offensiveness over there for a bit. It’s a massive blow for them: twattishness is to the operation of that team like petrol to a large, dreadful car, and Didier is like a big fat girlie-haired tank full of the stuff. I’d be extremely surprised if they got through without dropping some points – all that matters is that we capitalise.

We’re not without our own absences – notably Alex Song, who provided a timely reminder of his excellence with a granite performance against West Ham, which should certainly have earned him man of the match had it not been for Ramsay’s  He provokes such confusing sensations, does Song. I spent so long mocking him at every opportunity through the medium of sarcastic praise that now he’s become a Talismanic Cog™ I’ve become all conflicted. He’ll be missed, and with Cesc’s injury proving troublesome there will be high expectations of Diaby and Ramsay. Ramsay I’m hopeful for, Diaby fingers crossed.

If the predicted sub-zero temperatures materialise then the Bolton fans will suddenly feel at home, like the zombies from 28 Days Later in the dark, and the Emirates will be transformed from a hospitable place with a handful of moronic Northerners terrified and cowering from the level of civilisation into an inhospitable Artic place filled with semi-naked moronic Northerners imbued with the confidence of the frostbitten mind. The midfield, in particular, will have to have their angry faces on, particularly if Arshavin’s dodginess is as bad as some fear – he and Big Tom are the only ones really cut out for the cold.

On the plus side, Bolton are unsettled and leak goals like Tiger Woods leaks credibility, and are at present staring longingly at the non-relegation part of the league like Alex Ferguson watching a video of himself when he was younger, before he was transformed into a barmy time-denier who spends his Sunday evenings wandering around complaining that the hilariously benevolent five minutes of injury time was not enough for his team of crack idiotic millionaires to score an equaliser against the Most Unpleasant Side In History.

Sorry for being so intermittent of late. Both Grabs and myself have been indulging our other scribbly personae – mine to forge a living, his to – well I’ve no idea really. But something. We’re back in force for the new year – Gingers For Limpar and others can rest easy.

Come on you reds.

It has been, friends, literally weeks since I (grabber) have posted. I am sorry for this. I had a conversation in the Duchess of Kent with a friend of my dad’s who said that he’d said there was someone in his office who said she read our blog. Since this was the first real-life fan I’d heard of, I was so amazed I nearly drowned in my leffe, and was so startled that I haven’t dared post since, for fear that my waffle might rebound into reality.

Quite a lot has happened since then. We beat Birmingham (yay), we drew with AZ Alkmaar(mmm), we drew with West Ham (grr) and we beat Spurs easily (hahaha). Van Persie’s been good. So has Cesc. Ho hum. We’re ahead of where we were last year. We’re Islington Shuffling less than is usual, except for typical culprit Abou Diaby. Actually on the subject of him – and regular readers will be aware of my strongly-felt prejudices in this area – did anybody see in the newspapers Abou Diaby ‘promising to curb his attacking instinct?’ What? Quoi? His ‘attacking instinct’ is totally irrelevant. It’s like Tom Vermaelen saying “I need to curb my urge to collect cashmere-lined antelope-leather driving gloves” – sure, I think we’d all sleep a bit easier at night, but it’s not going to affect his play one way or the other.

What Diaby needs to curb, put simply, is his shit instinct; the force in his soul which causes him to flatter to deceive season after season. I’ve seen little this season to disprove my previous thought about the man, which is that just before Eboue had his brain wiped, Men In Black-style, of his knowledge of What Arsene Did Last Summer, he whispered to Abou Diaby What Arsene Did Last Summer, meaning that the continuous tradition of players who have known What Arsene Did Last Summer remains unbroken. If readers are bored before the match, why not consider who was the first ever player to know what Arsene Did Last Summer – Remi Garde? Is it possible that we had players who knew What Arsene Did Last Summer even before Arsene joined the club? If this were the case I would nominate John Jensen and pineapple-headed attacking midfield legend Chris Kiwomya.

But that’s just my theory.

In other news myself and some chums attended a screening of “The Gooner Review” the other day, in aid of charity. I went because the film had been well-reviewed on other sites, and also because I like Arsenal. I hate to put the boot in, but rarely have I been so pleased that my money is going to charity. The film was, bluntly, terrible. I feel bad writing this – not nice to put fellow Gooners down, but this is a commercial venture and it’s not up to scratch. Its aim was to present an honest fans’ appraisal of last season, dealing with the lows as well as the highs. This is a noble aim, and for the first ten minutes the charity screening was hilarious – Paul Kaye, who appears as the presenter in the film, introduced it live to the cinema and got the crowd singing some excellent long-forgotten chants – anyone remember “You’re Sylvain… you probably think this song is about you…”

The film then lurched into a “top 10” rundown of moments from our season, as described by a variety of luminaries. There was not a single bit of football shown – we were told that the licensers had refused permission without reason shortly before the screening. But without any football the ‘talking heads’ had to be even stronger, and they were weak beforehand. The ubiquitous Nick Hornby and Amy Lawrence were wheeled out to not say very much, and were joined by a bizarre menagerie of random blokes (guitarists from local bands? ‘Arsenal fan’) and deeply minor celebrities (the percussionist from ‘M People’, anyone?). This would have been fine, had they anything interesting to say, but in the main they didn’t, instead spouting inane clichés about Arsenal’s youth policy, the effect of Arshavin etc. It was like being in a pub full of slightly old boring drunk men after an Arsenal match, when you yourself are completely sober, and have somewhere else to be. The production was clunky, and the video seemed to have been edited who had little experience making, or indeed watching, films. Again I can’t emphasise how guilty I feel about this, but without the football, and some quality insight, I can’t understand why you would part with your hard-earned lucre in a recession to do it. Sorry, Gooner review. I truly wish you better luck next season – it’s a great idea, but this version wasn’t up to it.

Right. Off to the Emirates now. I am taking a friend who trades derivatives at RBS. Can you think of a worse job title this year?

Come on you reds.

So. Another FREE VIDEO on Arsenal.com of the lads in training. We’ve seen this before. And we dealt with it. Not many blogs saw the importance of that footage, but we did, and we shared it with you.

That video was all about an uplifting guitar score which ultimately drove our gigantic Togonian from the club. It offered clues as to the real reason behind his heinous attack on Van Persie’s face. And it instilled, in all of us, a new optimism.

So what to make of this afternoon’s effort?

Well, there has certainly been a seismic shift. Gone and forgotten is the kind of formulaic guitar nonsense that did for Adebayor. But that hasn’t meant a return to Ade’s favoured Togonian hip-hop about shopping. Anything Togonian is clearly musica non grata when it comes to the Colney playlist.

Instead, the players have started training to a bizarre, grungy, grimy sort of electro. Still pretty teenage, and so a good reflection of the fact that most of our bench look like they were born under a Labour government, but funkier, slicker and less objectionable than the sort of puff Arsene made the players jog about to earlier in the season.

As for the training itself, cause for concern, I think. Of course, no-one will admit to a crumb of complacency as we anticipate the visit of Alkmaar tomorrow. But you have to say that a preparation which mostly involves a circle of players giggling in bibs as Emmanuel Eboue does keep-uppies with his backside does suggest a certain laxity may have crept in.

Kieran Gibbs looked baffled about all this, and must have been wondering what Fabio Capello would think if he saw the footage of Eboue and Song doing some kind of synchronised walking. Bad news for any World Cup dream to be associated with such behaviour.

And Boro Primorac looked absolutely furious throughout. And he appeared to be in charge of the whole sorry charade.

Certainly, Wenger wasn’t supervising anyone – he was off in a lonely corner of the pitch all by himself, engaged in a weird Sisyphean passing contest with the metal fence, something I’m sure we’ve all done, but which gets really annoying after a while when you realise that the fence absorbs most of the impact of the ball and it never really comes back to you as you want it to.

BREAKING NEWS: Beneath a picture of Abou Diaby rubbing his face with his shoulder, Arsene has compared his lanky but unpopular enforcer with a magnet.

This, he says, is why he is so attracted to the opposition goal (mostly made of air) and why he frequently appears to have no idea what’s going on, and why he’s never in the right place. All the other players have sat-nav. Diaby still uses a retro compass and a map Gilles Grimandi lent him a while back, but he’s magnetic, or the goal is, and so he’s permanently scrambled.

No idea what to do. Not the foggiest. Definitely not defend.

Arsene has explained that whereas most of us have even less idea of Diaby’s position on the pitch than the man himself, this is merely an interim period before he establishes himself as a fully fledged attacking midfielder. Or as a thoroughbred defensive midfielder. Or something.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Oh, what to make of it all? There was a time when I looked out for the Man Utd and Tottenham results and wanted them both to lose. It didn’t really matter who they were playing, except when they played each other when I generally hoped for a draw, injuries to key players and some long-term suspensions.

Yesterday Ashley Cole scored against Spurs. What was I meant to do?

It was the most emotionally confusing moment since a couple of hours earlier I found myself cheering Michael Owen’s winner for Man Utd. Then I saw the United fans celebrating and I stopped. Then I saw Mark Hughes’ face and I started all over again.

And what’s a Gooner to do when confronted with the spectacle of Craig Bellamy punching a United fan in the face? Whose side are we meant to be on?

Truly, Arsenal are a club surrounded by a wilderness of cunts.

Spurs and United are clubs with a long and despicable tradition of being cunts, whereas Ashley Cole may be the worst bloke alive, but he is only one bloke, not an entirely evil institution with a proven history of cuntishness – and City have only recently become complete cunts, though that doesn’t look like changing soon.

So yesterday was confusing. And there’ll be more like this to come with so many hateful clubs and individuals now in the mix, and that’s not even counting former footballer David Bentley.

My advice is to focus on the player/team that comes off worst, and to revel in their misery.

So don’t think about Cashley, think about Daniel Levy. Don’t think about United winning the Champs League, just remember John Terry making a tit of himself with the most important kick of his career.

In other news, Thomas Vermaelen’s goalscoring, fist-pumping, brave headering start in an Arsenal shirt has forced us to revise our previous comparisons – we now insist that Nemanja Vidic be referred to as ‘A Poor Man’s Thomas Vermaelen’ .

It has also strengthened the impression that new signings are always better than what we already have, not just because they’re new and shiny, but also because they’re better.

This impression only adds to the clamour for more spending, but we’d do well to remember that some signings are absolutely pants, and that Wenger’s recent purchasing of two players (for whom Man City would now almost certainly be prepared to pay £60-70m) for just £25m combined makes him a complete genius.

Signing players this good isn’t at all easy. And seeing as we’ve got very little cash, it’s just a good thing we’ve got the right man spending it.

Talking of Le Gaffer not being a mug, here’s a Gaffer mug. It is, as you might say, up for grabs now  (ahem) as part of our glamorous tryst with our friends at Philosophy Football.

To get your mits on Arsene’s mug simply answer the following question: how many domestic doubles have Arsenal won with Arsene in charge? Please email your answer with name and address to admin@philosophyfootball.com with ‘UpForGrabsNow Competition’ in the subject title. Entries close on the 30^th September.

Let's hope this isn't the only cup with Arsene written all over it this season

Two and a half minutes of my life that might as well never have happened were those I just spent watching our squad for tonight gently jogging about, to a climactic electric guitar backing soundtrack, as if the vision of our whipper-snappers ambling around London Colney in distinctly pedestrian fashion wasn’t blood-curdling enough for Arsenal TV Online’s free video.

No, there’s an advert for a Bruce Willis movie before it, so if we just show Eboue scratching his balls and the sound of passing traffic everyone will (completely unjustifiably) think our video’s crap.

Or maybe this is one of Arsene’s special training methods. Do we always train to electric guitar, I wonder?

Maybe that’s why Ade’s so angry with everyone at the club – he used to put on hardcore Togonian rap about shopping, but then Denilson said it gave him a mild headache. Van Persie put on some bland electric guitar music instead, and eight weeks later, Ade got his revenge by stamping on his face.

Just as plausible as the other explanations I’ve heard for Ade’s thuggery if you ask me, including his own garbled mutterings about the various people who do or don’t love him.

Tonight we face a Standard Liege side shorn of their highly rated skipper Steve “Definitely” Defour, but we may well have to face the Belgian Butcher Axel Witsel, who will be well rested as he’s in the middle of an eight match ban for chopping another player’s leg in half. Highly rated player, Witsel, and it’ll be interesting to see how he fares against us.

In turn, we will, predictably, be without most of our players, but look certain to see Vito Mannone start in goal. Fabianski must be kicking himself. Except if he did he might injure himself some more and squander still further this rare opportunity to stake his claim ahead of our marvellously hirsute Spanish English Neutral (Swiss?) Waiter Goalkeeper.

There are those who have already written off Mannone on the strength of very little, really. They’d rather see Wojciech Szczesny have a go, if only in the vain hope that David Pleat may have to attempt to pronounce his name in a live broadcast.

Personally, I’m more concerned with letting SuperJack have a run-out. It’d also be lovely to see Sanchez Watt make his bow at Europe’s top table. Blessed with the finest name to emerge from Arsenal’s academy since Quincy Owusu-Abeye (his full name is actually Herschel Sanchez Watt), Sanchez has long been a firm favourite here on UpForGrabsNow. He’s got pace, skill and a rare hairstyle/great name combination that promises much.

That said, we’ll probably go with Mannone, The Back Four, Song, Fabregas, Diaby, Rosicky, Bendtner and Eduardo.I’d be tempted to put Rosicky in central midfield instead of Diaby and put Wilshere on the left, but I’d say it’s more likely that Diaby will start on the wing with Eboue roving around the midfield like a maniac.

Always interested to hear your thoughts.

One man full of thoughts today was Arsene Wenger, who has had his say on everything from Eduardo to player quotas to Vermaelen and Adebawhore.

Most impressive was his quip about Mark Hughes, which I enjoyed mainly because Hughes is exactly the kind of guy the English media love to paint as an honest, straight-talking, decent-family-values guy, when in fact he’s a nonsensical git whose teams have always been a bunch of thugs - until he could afford to buy players of Adebawhore’s calibre. And as soon as he did that he started stamping on the limbs and faces of former team-mates.

But Hughes won’t last long at City. And let’s hope the mental Togonian doesn’t either.

FREE AT LAST: With his caging quashed, the 'Boruc One' is set to be unleashed on Europe's penalty boxes once again

With all the doom-mongering and transfer-related whingeing that’s been going on, only the very perceptive will have emerged from this summer having retained the memory of Arsenal actually owning any players whatsoever. And some good ones, too.

Grabber has done a fine job of swarthily surveying our array of attacking players like the seasoned trooper that he is. Now it’s my turn, with the case for the defence.

Manuel Almunia: combines a career as a top-flight goalkeeper with a part-time role as a German-baiting waiter. Also combines being Spanish with being English, and not getting picked for Spain with not getting picked for England. An Arsene favourite. For years completely unfancied by all, sundry, and everyone else as a bench-warming, cross-flapping enigma, you’ve got to admire the pluck of the man Mad Jens once complained had “only started playing football aged 30″.  Hope he stays fit.

Lukasz Fabianski: A blonde girl in a pub once told me that Fabianski is the best looking Arsenal player since Flamini. Be that as it may, his carefully slicked down fringe didn’t do much to quieten the howls of agony when he inexplicably charged past the onrushing Drogba at Wembley in the spring. Still, we all make mistakes, and he’s made some decent saves. Only 24, and improving. But hope Manuel stays fit.

Gael Clichy: A big season for Gael as he tries to dislodge Evra from the France team. Evra looks permanently furious and fights with passing groundsman at the drop of a rake. Clichy is extraordinarily fast, but developed a nasty tendency to fall over at crucial periods, such as in injury time against the hated foe. Hopefully this will be stamped out and he will finally learn to shoot. A top player who should be looking to last the season this year.

Bacary Sagna: Arguably the best player in the world. Sure, you’d have to argue that one pretty well, but if we had eleven Bacary Sagnas… well, I’d stick four in defence and the rest would have to compete with the others for places. One could probably play in midfield somewhere. And we might get away with playing a couple in the Ladies team. A magnificent defender, a soldier, and a gentleman.

Thomas Vermaelen: If you can’t sign Nemanja Vidic, why not sign someone who looks a bit like him? Steely of eye, iron of jaw and proud of forehead, Vermaelen has all the physical attributes to prove the doubters wrong about Wenger’s ability to buy defenders. Plus, he’s captained Ajax already and at 24 should have valuable experience and some great years ahead of him. I think he will prove to be a very shrewd buy.

William Gallas: Still here. After all the huffing and sulking, Wenger did the unthinkable and got rid of plucky Kolo instead, which leaves a lot of responsibility with Gallas. Unfairly maligned for his generally solid performances in my opinion, Gallas’ experience will be hugely important. He should realise that it’s his last season at the top, nail his colours to the mast and play a blinder. Could still be a world-beating stopper for us if his head is right and he can gel with Vermaelen.

Johan Djourou: Cited by Wenger as one of the many (three) tall players in our squad, this could be a breakthrough year for the young swiss, who has clearly muscled himself well ahead of Senderos in the picking order. Must steer clear of injury, but a first team spot is certainly not beyond him this season.

Emmanuel Eboue: So good, we profiled him twice. Arguably the best player in the world. Mad, bad, and often dangerous to pass to. Let’s hope that when he does get on he plays in defence, that he continues to cut inside so thrillingly (and entirely unpredictably) and that he wins a penalty at Old Trafford with a dive so egregious that it shocks the world. Reportedly wanted by Barcelona as a replacement for the tediously magnificent Dani Alves, and who can blame them?

Back 4 Extras: Arsene Knows. More than anything he seems to know how to find lithe quicksilver young left full-backs. Kieran Gibbs will have to fight it out with Armand Traore to be Clichy’s back up this year, though both players could surely also be useful on the wing if pressed into action. Mikael Silvestre continues to cement his place as a firm fans favourite, which is why we all hope he’s used sparingly.

Alex Song: Turned himself into a bit of a lynch-pin by the end of last season, though that was partly because we didn’t have any other players left. A good start could see him kick on to become a major force, though you still wonder if Wenger doesn’t see him as a defender. The face of Arsenal’s cosmetics range, there is still time to make yourself smell like Song. Prone to dozing off against correctly-termed lesser teams, our soft underbelly is likely to completely collapse without him, unless we get another defensive midfielder soonish.

Denilson: Famously “not as good as Kaka”, as the woman behind me repeatedly insists on pointing out, Denilson is a very promising talent, who must be looking to really impose himself on the team this year. Blessedly injury-averse, the ever-present young square-pass merchant isn’t going to convince everyone, but he’s convinced Mr Wenger, who will want him, like Song, to add a bit of grit and consistency to his game. Also like Song, likely to be the scapegoat for any poor results.

Aaron Ramsey: Tidy, skilful and a future mainstay. Looked overawed at points last year, but should know his way around by now. Not one to hang about and clearly convinced of his ability (just in a Welsh, rather than Danish way, if you get me) Aaron is likely to see a lot of gametime, especially if no other central midfielders arrive. Did I mention that some Arsenal fans want to see a defensive midfielder brought in?

Prognosis: The patient is a bit off-colour for this time of year, and looks thin around the middle. Would benefit from a muscular injection in defensive midfield and centre-half. What an original conclusion.

Thank God the season’s here. There’s been far too much Arsene-bashing from the press and some fans, and futile, circular, transfer-related harping. A win on Saturday would be the best way to forget all about it.

In any team, but especially one as raw as Arsenal’s current crop, the sale of two of your most experienced players represents a risk. Selling them to the team tipped by many as your closest challenger is a gamble so big and fat you could put lend it some goalie gloves and call it Paddy Kenny. 

At first glance, Manchester City’s strategy would seem to be a winner. If you’re going to spend big, better still to weaken your key rivals by signing their stronger players. It makes sense.  They got our vice-captain and longest serving player, and our main striker. Which sounds pretty devastating.

But Mr Wenger is definitely up to something

Famed for his ability to sell off damaged goods at the right time, some are suggesting that Arsenal are getting more money for Toure and Adebayor than they’re worth; that like many others to leave N5 they will soon discover that Arsenal made them look like rather better players than they actually are; and that both players are in decline in any case.

Let’s hope so. Our massive financial disadvantage is only going to get bigger if we lose out on Champions League football next spring, an eventuality which would in all probability prove pivotal to the modern history of the football club.

My instinct is that Mr Wenger has got this right.

Toure was a stop-gap who grew into a lynch-pin, treasured by all at the club, but rarely considered a truly top-class defender. The last of the Invincibles, he will be missed by many, but more for his character and heart than his ability.

He was always one of those players whose eventual market value was difficult to predict, and the £16 million figure mentioned seems like good money for a player who was unhappy enough to request a move in January.

Which leaves Gallas, Vermaelen, Djourou, Senderos, Song and Silvestre, and, to be honest, a lot of Gooners praying for another centre half.

At the arse-end of last season, Mr Wenger regularly lamented our lack of height in defence, which points towards a certain 6′5” Norwegian Cottager.

Hangeland for Toure? Sounds like the right kind of roulette to me.

Much in the tradition of my contributions, this week I refuse to degrade myself to the level of other commentators by seeing how long I can make hilarious leaving puns about Emmanuel Adebayor: ‘AdeBYEBYEor’, ‘Adebay-OFF’. ADEBAYOFF HAHA YEAH SEE! I shall instead ask you more intelligent readers a different question:

Why are Manchester City assembling the laziest team in the history of football?

It must be difficult having unlimited money. Forced to labour under the impression that winning things will somehow now be very easy, and happen irrespective of having an aggressive Welsh wanker managing your club, as an owner or chairman you are forced to set yourself little games to amuse yourself. Different people do different things. Roman Abramovich got around this problem by firing one of the world’s best managers, hugely respected by his team, and replacing him with an unqualified Uncle Festa lookalike, and then a succession of other unsuitable foreigners after he proved to be surprisingly good. Manchester City’s chairman is approaching the issue differently, instead choosing to purchase a wide and exciting range of the world’s laziest footballers. Clearly he was inspired by the sight of Craig Bellamy and Robinho sitting in a chair for training (or something), and decided that if he bought a whole team like that it would make the Premiership a bit more interesting.

This is the only way to explain the otherwise ludicrous amount of money he has spent luring the gangly, bone-idle Togolese cash hole up to Eastlands. As an Arsenal fan I cheer, but as a fan of football I weep tears of hysterical laughter mingled with great sadness. Never in the field of human football has so much been paid by so few for so little. Oh well. Hopefully he can continue to score against Spurs, and we can continue to laugh at them. Other than that there is little hope, given that his previous record suggests he operates a system whereby the number of goals he scores per season is inversely proportional to his salary.  £40,000 – 30 goals. £80,000 – 15 goals. £150,000 – seven goals if they’re lucky.

More fool them I say.