Manchester United 2 Chelsea 0
Sunday 16th April 2017 16:00
I go away for five days and everything goes to sh*t. There is a collective wail coming from West London, enough noise coming from the ghetto off the Seven Sisters Road to make you think they’ve started burning their own town again, and you can hear of concerto of press plebs beating one out in quicktime across the nation.
Here beginneth the shortest write-up I will do this season. All fashioned from the middle of a muddy field on the Western Front using only alerts on my phone and little snippets of Five Live that popped in and out of range as we paid our respects to half a million odd casualties of WW1 in four days.
Antonio presumably spent all week working very hard on preparing for this game.
Then Courtois got injured.
Then Alonso started puking his guts up.
So basically, HWWNBN had got a leg up already. Because we’ve had to shuffle everything around at the last minute.
Looking at the team sheet, it doesn’t appear that he really gave a crap either way. This smacked of the Europa League being their best chance of Champions League football next season. Put a half decent side out, with one eye on Thursday, hope that you go 1-0 up and then cling on to your self respect with the last vestige of your fingernails. (Like Jeremy Corbyn)
Refwatch: Yay. Says I before kick off as we motored over the old German front line from 1918. Bobby Madley has been the only half decent ref around for weeks. Scratch that, because now the bellend might have actually interfered with the outcome of the title race by failing to spot a handball that was as obvious as Thierry Henry slapping Ireland out of contention for the World Cup finals in 2009.
As I was attempting to help a five year old spot shrapnel balls, (this weekend has seen me dubbed “Sweary Poppins,” which I might have put on a t-shirt) I was simultaneously ranting at an iPhone with no signal because why, oh why, would you not be finding space for Nathan Aké yesterday if one of your wing-backs is flagging with a virus? *Sigh*
Right about the time that they went two up, I found the end of a Lee Enfield rifle sticking out of the ground. If it had been the complete thing, I may have brought it back to London and clubbed Diego with it in an effort to revive him. Just once, as I can’t bring myself even to watch the highlights and I acknowledge that the multitude of social media posts imploring him to f*ck off to China might just be hysterical nappy sh*tting of the highest order. Still, if as a striker he could start scoring some goals right about now to help contain everyone’s blood pressure, I would be grateful. Failing that I will settle for him snapping Alli’s leg in half next weekend.
So: All hail Uncle Albert for keeping me in the loop yesterday.
We need to fortify our squad profusely in terms of the wingback roles, or in seeing who we have might be able to play there, people like Aké, because the second that one of Alonso or Moses drops out, we are not the same side. I heard on the radio as we doffed our caps to the Thiepval Memorial on the way home that HWWNBN was a genius yesterday. B*llocks. He made a play. Quite a negative one. Thanks to last minute events out of our control and a sh*t ref the chips fell his way. After we’ve slapped him about twice already this season. Let him have his little moment of glory raiding the overpriced mini bar in the hotel room he is forced to call home. I can’t say I agree with everything that Conte did, or didn’t do, but that is all that happened. Luck went his way and we did not do ourselves any favours. But then that doesn’t fit with the media rhetoric does it, the story they all want in press plebdom? Which is Sp*rs to overhaul us. Which frankly would less welcome than yet another instalment of the Fast and Furious franchise in my world.
Despite the fact that for many, the end appears to be nigh, I bet I can make you laugh instantly:
Frankly, I’m more concerned about the fact that they might have killed off DS Arnott in Line of Duty last night when I was out of the country. I’m off to find it on I-Player and provided that I am not too traumatised, to write a tribute to JT for the book version of this blog, which you can pre-order at:
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