Gallas, Adebayor and Other Stories to Ruin Your Dinner
Hand on heart, I’ll be glad when a red line is drawn under this feckin’ transfer window and we can all get on with our lives. It’s the hope that kills me; the thought of waking up every morning with want to find gold in the headlines only to discover it’s rolled up balls of horse shit painted in Airfix bronze. Adebayor today, Ashley Young before that. The names being bandied about may as well be Panini stickers pulled from the depths of a Sugar Puffs box- for all the accuracy they might pertain. No-one knows what’s going on- least of all those In The Know. I’d rather, whatever does happen with the eventual signing we do make- supposing we actually make it, of course– it’s done completely out of the blue and to the surprise of everyone. At the stroke of midnight on August 31st an unknown male is escorted into the stadium with a bag over his head, festooned with a large white question mark- at the last second the bag is removed to the gasp of an expectant looking crowd. Who is it? It’s, it’s…
It’s Pascal Chimbonda.
It’d save a lot of fannying about.
Back in the real world, there is, at least, a more tangible sense of hubbub about our first League undertaking with Citeh at the weekend. The new season cometh. I’m convinced I speak for a good few of you out there by saying it’s been a long time coming. The hangover from a vapid World Cup and the last couple of months of discussing sponsors, kits, phantom signings, meaningless friendlies, can all be banished to the catacombs of distant memory once the curtain heads northward on Saturday afternoon. It’s got me all of a flutter. But more of that later.
I’ll leave you, rather hypocritically considering the opening gambit of this post, with the latest bit of gossip which has done the rounds today. William Gallas. Plenty of miles on the clock and a mental fragility of a ‘Nam veteran, it’s been suggested that ‘Arry is keen on taking the Gallic monolith on a season-long deal. Throw his name in with Bellamy and it would appear we’re trying to assemble the most unlikeable squad in history. Next on the list? Idi Amin.
*sigh* Roll on the weekend.
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