Good morning darlings. Today, I firstly need to tell you I pulled a hamstring, one, so I can make a quip about redzoning myself, two, so I can tell you that I went to the gym and exercised.
I know what you’re thinking, ‘Pedro pushed it to the next level’, yes people, yes I did.
TIM SHEERWOOD SACKED VERY FUNNY MOST AMUSING
So what am I doing this morning? Well, I landed an invite to go and watch the Arsenal press conference, followed by 15minutes worth of training.
I was like, errr, is it the right thing for me to be doing? Am I selling out?
Then I was like, no. Fuck it. Getting so close to Boro Priromac I can touch him? Every 29 year olds dream. Am I right? Hell yeah I’m right.
It’ll be quite interesting to hear how a real press conference goes. What is actually said, what’s missed in tonality, how Arsene is behaving… Sadly though, no questions for me. I’d only ask something about Lukas and that seal, so it’s probably a good thing.
I get to watch 15 minutes of training as well. So many instagrams coming your way, and a fresh batch for the headline pictures.
So, in short, this won’t be much of a post today.
SAMIR NASRI IS NOT GOING TO THE WORLD CUP SO SAD MANY TEARS
What is exciting is I’ve secured some pretty exciting writers to contribute this summer. I have talent from ESPN, Private Eye, The New York Times… I’m also going to tap some people up from the FT and The Guardian. I’m pushing the boat out this summer, last thing you want to be reading for three months is me banging on about injuries and goats. We’re also going to look at podcasting. Alex who writes here is a bit of an AKB, and he’s mildly amusing at times, so could make for a good listen. If it’s crap, then you’ll tell us and we’ll stop.
I also want to start getting some content from people. The youth at work communicate in GIFs, if you have Arsenal funnies, send them in and we can LOL (laugh out loud you old person).
Do you sense I’m fearing the summer?
Why would I be, when I can write about the Daily Mail covering our pursuit of a 15 year old Belgian kid from Anderlecht who honestly looks like he’s barely started puberty. Now, that’s not to say I like my 15 year olds mature, it’s merely to point out that we’re scouting a child and it’s making the news.
WAYNE ROONEY OVERLOOKED FOR UNITED CAPTAINCY BECAUSE HE IS ENGLISH HA OH HA YES EXPENSIVE PLAYER
Where’s Young Guns when you need him?
Word has crept out the Sagna is about to leave the Arsenal party. He’ll say his goodbyes at the Arsenal celebration (or commiseration) banquet the club are throwing on Sunday. I’d imagine a few of them will be saying their goodbyes. Fabianski, Vermaelen… Podolski if anyone will pay him £100k a week.
… but still, saying goodbye on a medal is the way to do it. That, and taking a giant crap on the Chairmans Bentley. That’s how I’m going out when the time comes. Cheerio, and good luck with that.
Right, I think that’s about as immature as it gets. If you work for a broadsheet, drop me a line, Le Grove has some probono work. Someone needs to up this shit show.
Today’s FA Cup Memory comes courtesey of Jem Packer, regular contributor to Private Eye (fancy).
‘She Wore A Black And White Ribbon’
1979, the sun is shining, the streets of Islington are awash with Arsenal scarves and banners and I am about to watch my first ever FA cup final on TV. In black. And white. Forget about discos and outlandish fashions, my 1970’s childhood was largely played out in monochrome. Sunday closing, winter of discontent, barely an Arsenal game on TV – it was all, well just a bit drab.
But on the 12th of May everything changed. As excitement grew for the upcoming match (Arsenal rosette on chest – check, jammy dodgers and iced gems on tap – check, pudding bowl haircut and national health specs – check) something extraordinary happened. My father, who had ‘popped out to buy a paper’, arrived at the door, flustered and excited, struggling with a large cardboard box. The weight was such we assumed he was carrying car engine parts or roof tiles.
But when he lugged it into the sitting room we dared to dream…
As he opened the box there it was – our first colour television! A Sony Trinitron no less, as deep as is was wide. I will never forget the Wembley turf as it crackled into Technicolor view, an unearthly magical green. Then the strips – that Arsenal yellow a blur of golden sulphur, a colour etched into my psyche forever.
We all know how the game unfolded – and like many my lifelong love affair with Arsenal was cemented in those dying minutes. But looking back, as Alan Sunderland celebrated his winning goal, there is one thing I don’t thank that new TV for – the sight of all those bubble perms, moustaches and Gary Bailey’s mullet in full colour…