Yes, ridiculously churlish.Originally Posted by Burney
The man has been in the job a few weeks. He has a whole squad, indeed a whole football club, to get operating in line with his plan.
If, at this point, we had lost 4 and drawn a couple, I wouldn't have been in the least surprised.
This bloke may turn out to be utter mince, but to suggest that he is doing anything other than remarkably well at this point is Cascarino-esque.
You’ve made Arsene cry.
Why do you hate him?
You will note that I have advised against judging him yet. I certainly do not hate him. Just because he lept into Arsene's chair while it was still warm and didn't have the decency to tell Gazidis to go fúck himself, as an honourable man would have done, doesn't mean that I hate the filthy chap.
If someone killed your (albeit nagging and past her prime) wife of 22 years and the next day dumped some random bint on your doorstep and said "Here, live with her. And have sex with her tonight. Come on, forget the last two decades, life goes on, just do it" .....would you be happy, even if she was a bit of a looker with three wafer cups under her knickers?
This bird I have to have sex with tonight who's been duped on my doorstep - she's alive, right?
Yes, and a touch younger, not a grey hair in sight, and has actually managed to win a European ****ing trophy. But it's not your soulmate and life partner, who is now dead.
What do you do?
I think a better analogy is that your mum and dad split up and with undue haste she takes up with a new fella who barely speaks English. He makes her happy, the household's running more smoothly and the rows have stopped, but still and all he's not your dad, is he? He's just some cvnt who's turned up and is knobbing your mum. Your dad, meanwhile, is in Totteridge, alone and staring out the window.
But in that scenario I could presumably still go and live with my dad (what with him living alone in an 8-bedroom detached house n'all) if I so wished.I think a better analogy is that your mum and dad split up and with undue haste she takes up with a new fella who barely speaks English. He makes her happy, the household's running more smoothly and the rows have stopped, but still and all he's not your dad, is he? He's just some cvnt who's turned up and is knobbing your mum. Your dad, meanwhile, is in Totteridge, alone and staring out the window.
I peer mournfully at my shrivelled, flaccid member, like a dessicated prawn hanging dead from a fence, and remember...
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