Mrs X said to me when I started this blog that I would never have the hope of keeping it going regularly, what with a full time job saving London from eating itself, plus planning our wedding and trying to keep my Mrs X Snr. from coming down every weekend. And it looks like she was right, bearing in mind how long it has taken since the last entry below, plus the fact the even the
But for God's sake, aren't Arsenal a bunch of poor winners. Moaning about kicking, pulling of hair, leaning on people's necks, Fabregas not getting a penalty, the list goes on, and on. However look at any press report and nothing is mentioned of it, not even by the employers of Stan "Bolton are rotten to the core" Collymore, the Mirror. They even took over the board on the BBC 606 to tell Bolton fans how awful our team are. All of this is not new to those of us who look back fondly on Martin Keown's own goal and Lehmann's jitters whenever he played at T'Reebok. We get it, Arsenal hardly had an answer to Bolton for a few years and usually blamed it on a physicalness that they didn't have an answer for even though that usually only came from one man and a man whose attributes their captain, one Mr T. Henry Esq., once opined that he would like to bring into his game. And their players are not as squeaky clean as their fans think they are; Rosicky on Sunday wasn't as bad as the time Flamini tried to take Ricky off at the knee at The Library but was still worthy of more than a yellow card.
I'll be there tomorrow night, trying to avoid the spittle that usually reigns down from our North London friends seated above us. I'd take a brolly, but even though I live in the smoke, I'm still northern.
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