I let a string of expletives go including calling Saliba a 'stupid French c*nt' and then threw a plastic beer cup across the kitchen.
Hardcore.
A mild sigh of disappointment at the loss of (another) clean sheet but the equaliser came far too early to do them any good. They were very poor, weren't troubling us at all.
"Plenty of strikers can score goals," he said, gesturing to the famous old stands casting shadows around us.
"But a lot have found it difficult wearing the number 9 shirt for The Arsenal."