Henry Norris is the football correspondent of the Bugle newspaper and an ardent Arsenal supporter to boot. He has had somewhat of a sabatical but he is back in business. Each week he’ll join us here at arsenalinsider.com to bring you his forthright views on all things AFC…please be advised, it is not for the faint-hearted!
Where do I begin? Abject apologies for my absence. All I’ll say is that is the very last time I combine absinthe, hubbly-bubbly pipes and a light aircraft to Marrakech. Add to that the questionable morals of a private dancer named Jasmine, the misgivings of her hotelier husband and £6,500 sterling.
No matter.
I secured my return to Blighty in time to make a visitation to the home of football where God’s Own were playing a team whose name I am forbidden by law to mention and who reside not a stone’s throw from the pleasant environs of Islington.
But what a stone’s throw it is in terms of culture, colour and class.
And thus the class that our esteemed leader and our players exuded proved more than enough to see off this invasion of imbeciles and sent them packing from whence they came with a bloody good hiding.
Not even the manager of this team, a certain Barry Redknapp (off to manage England apparently…adios, then, Barry), could have envisaged such a bloody beating, given that using some dark force or other he had steered this worthless carbuncle of a club to a position in the league standings higher than the Royal Arsenal (which is actually illegal).
What caught my eye in particular was the staggering swagger with which we played out the ill-matched encounter. Did you see how the red boys lulled the lilly-livered opposition into such a false sense of security by handing them not one but two goals by way of a sporting gesture? Brilliant, M. Wenger.
It occurs to me that now all that remains is for the Arsenal to overhaul the points tally of the aforementioned aberration and take our rightful place at Europe’s top table.
While taking the sea air, news reaches me here at Norris Castle on the coast that her Majesty’s Arsenal are to travel to China in the summer months. Something about a money-spinning match-up with Manchester City (who be they?) for a friendly 90 minutes of huff and puff.
Piffle.
The real reason that M. Wenger and the boys are to visit Beijing is to allow President Hu Jintao, who holds the position of General Secretary of the Communist Party of China, the chance to see once more his boyhood idols.
Hu Jintao is an old pal of mine and he was a regular on the Clock End back in the day when his folks owned the Lotus House Takeaway on Blackstock Road.
Of course, a card such as your author is very well travelled indeed and China holds no new ground for me. I was lucky enough to tour with a group of Gunners supporters back in 1955 and we played a number of matches against locals, none of whom had the foggiest how to play Association Football.
Much to our eternal delight.
In three games we amassed 234 goals and conceded one. And that was when former Essex cricketer Stan Dup managed to score an own goal while lighting his pipe. Nice bit of shag. Splendid.
I always thought it would be a spiffing idea for another north London team to travel to China. Orient v Orient anyone?
Ahh, Tiffin has arrived.
Pip, pip for now…
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