See You Under The Lights

First up – apologies for another collapse this afternoon. I’m not talking about the incident in Asda where it dawned on me that ‘picking up a few bits’ was a poor idea after a morning of perfecting the ultimate Absolute Cranberry.

I understand that the person responsible for HH being offline again was dragged by their ear to a place that everyone else in the static home office could readily view them and severely pistol whipped with a Luger. A fitting repercussion on a day that would’ve been the Fuhrer’s birthday.

So to the football.

Arsenal drift from one fiasco to another. After the humiliating business of their learned manager not understanding how additional time works, we got fresh meat today courtesy of Fibreglass claiming his comments in the Spanish press were ‘misinterpreted’.

‘Lost In Translation’ was a cracking film, but like much of the guff that emanates from the Emptycrates this is just more whinging, whining and the usual cobblers that befits a club that lives in its own cuckoo land of reasoning.

I think we’ll smash them. I don’t just want this to happen but genuinely believe it will be the outcome.

The strategy for this contest ought be a simple one. The French are at their best when they have the ball and the space with which to ping it about amongst their better midfielders. The way to nullify this is by retaining possession of course but also by attacking.

Our wing-back’s contributions worry me. A&E does occasionally great if predictable work. Charlie is bloody slow. Modders will have the space and Dances with scones ought make himself pivotal. Flick that round thing past, over and generally beyond their midfield, Their defense is eminently unlockable, unmemorable.

Prediction? Let’s just do what we do best. Fly by the seat of our undergarments and …do ’em.