Interesting times in which we live. Arsenal supremo Aunty Wenger is bleating again which in itself is not unusual, but this time about the fact that Adebayor has a caveat in his loan deal whereby he may not play against Manchester City.
Aunty tries to pass this quite standard arrangement off as some sinister tactic that has sent the Premiership into a maelstrom by citing that he allowed both Pennant and Bendtner to play against Arsenal when he loaned them out.
He really is an absolute child. He’s like some mentalist in a restaurant who orders the steak, then spends the rest of his meal not only bemoaning the fact he didn’t order the lobster but it was a conspiracy by the waiter to deprive him because he didn’t recommend the lobster when he ordered.
The timing of the nutty Professor’s comments is interesting. We went third after a consistent run of form that leaves Tottingham 3 points clear of the Woolwich Wanderers who have suffered from an abysmal away showing and been more than reliant upon Van Pervert. You don’t need to be anymore than a pop psychologist to realize that what Aunty is doing here. Pervert hasn’t hit a vein of form like this in a dog’s age. And outside of the Dutchman he has a squad that can collapse without warning against anyone.
Do you think Manchester City guilty of rigging the deck by buying gifted players and then deciding where they are loaned? If you do, then all I can tell you is, ‘That’s Show Business.’ Why does loaning a player suddenly lessen your control over someone who’s wages your are still paying? And why should a club act in a stealthy manner in all aspects of it’s management?
This is like playing Monopoly and saying it’s not fair that your opponent has loads of houses and hotels up. As long as they weren’t palmed while you were nipping to the lav, it’s called playing the game.
It’s tempting to count chicks that haven’t hatched, but Spurs are playing some slick football and bizarrely we don’t have any huge question marks hovering over our first squad players. We flogged them off in the summer.
The divide between us and them is closing at a rate of knots. And come the end of the season we should look forward to Aunty handing that vile little oik Wilshire a Blankety Blank cheque book and pen to pay his wager with.