What’s that you say? Bosh? Bosh? Yes. Bosh. The season has returned and so, emphatically, have the Arsenal. There isn’t much to say about a game in which the only negative was their consolation goal, but I’m here now so I might as well say something.
Firstly a warning. I watched the game in one of the most unpleasant places in Europe, the ‘Sports Café’ on Haymarket, in which you pay £4 for a pint and the privilege of sitting on a pool table surrounded by £200,000 worth of televisions and a large amount of potential violence. But even the grossness of this didn’t make a big difference. I just wanted to get the message out so others don’t follow me. Don’t go. They’re a pack of cunnis.
How to do this? Perhaps goal by goal. Yes.
So the first was a Denilson screamer. I had been bemoaning the little Brazilian, and wondering why he was in the side, and then he only goes and smashes it in from outside the box, with a shot that curved away from Timmy Cunt Tourette’s in a completely unsaveable fashion. For the same reason I will be cheering Didier Drogba at every opportunity this season. 1-0 to the Arsenal, as they say.
The second was lovely to see, because it was the sort of goal that other teams have always scored, but which has always eluded us. Much in the same way that Arshavin appeared not to have been taught the Islington Shuffle, neither did Vermaelen appear to have been taught the ‘no headers’ rule. Instead Robin whipped in a perfect ball, dipping to the back post, and the Non-Cunty Vidic Lookalike From Belgium jumped and banged it in. Great. 2-0. The N-CVLFB looked really solid, admittedly against the hapless Fellaini, but even hopeless novelty-affro strikers need a bit of marking. He also looked comfortable with Gallas. Promising.
The third was similar – perhaps inspired by the others, Cesc and Gallas teamed up for another cross-header-goal routine, which must have led the whole team to wonder why they hadn’t thought of it before, so much easier is it than Islington Shuffling it into the back of the net. It’s worth mentioning that their task, in both cases, was aided somewhat by the almost eerie absence of any defenders trying to impede them in their task. This won’t be the case against all teams. Funny that we lose our tall striker and immediately score two headed goals. Andepaymor?
3-0 half-time, and presumably a ‘tres bien’ from the boss. We might have sat back and enjoyed it, but you always thought we might get another one, and if the headers were Arsenal innovations, the fourth was distinctly old-school. On the break, van Persie surged down the left, crossed it through the defender’s legs to the onrushing Cesc, who in turn powered it between Timmy Cunt Tourette’s’. 4-0 to the Arsenal, sang the Sports Café, or at least they would have done had it not been for the sense of potential violence in the air.
The fifth was even easier, with Manuel the Spanish Waiter Goalkeeper finding Cesc, who wandered through the midfield as if it were a National Trust meadow before, finding he was near the Everton goal spanking it in along the ground. Once again the defence should be commended for parting like the Red Sea at his approach – despite carrying the ball for about 30 yards Cesc didn’t evade a single challenge.
5-0, and you thought there might be some mercy. None of it. Arshavin, keen to get in on the action himself, performed some fantastically deft footwork in a crowded box and squeezed one that just came off the post, whereupon one of our Crozilian strikers was on hand to tap it in. Good for him, though I was sorry not to see Andrei score. I suspect he will at some point.
Right at the end we did some cack defending and Saha passed it in, but it was the 93rd minute or something so you can’t get too worried about it.
All in all, though, a great statement of intent, and one of sufficient calibre that I am going to go down today and count the instances of the phrase ‘statement of intent’ in the newspapers. Oh yes. Welcome back to the Arsenal. We’ve missed you.
I think this could be a fun season.
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