Henry Norris is the football correspondent of the Bugle newspaper and an ardent Arsenal supporter to boot. 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!
A nation’s glee
Sound the harpsichord. Ring the bells. Add campanology to lessons at schools all over the land. Smash yourself over the head with an old tray from the kitchen. It’s time to celebrate heartily and surely it can only be a matter of time before the Government mark this special occasion by declaring a new Bank Holiday.
The Football Gods sent Chelsea packing with a thunderbolt from the heavens last night as Inter Milan did a job on the King’s Road Kremlinites. This horrid bunch of overpaid fat-cats and their jackboot supporters (what is the collective noun for a group of Chelsea fans? An ‘ignoramus’.) got what was coming to them in glorious fashion.
And the beautiful irony of Maureen orchestrating their exit couldn’t be written even in the fantasy world of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. It should serve as a reminder to the Stamford Bridge Czar Roman Abramovich that you can’t buy history. Now the task is for the Royal Arsenal to claim the Premier League crown for the good of the game.
When I pointed out to my busty secretary Senga as my Schadenfreude bubbled up nicely that we had won 13 top flight titles and the Pensioners had only won three, she put me straight. “Henry, please,” said the curvaceous minx. “13-1 if we rightfully discount the two titles procured with Russian mafia oil money.” Her words not mine.
Still, it’s not all doom and gloom for followers of this Satanic collective: The Formosa Chinese restaurant over the road from Fulham Broadway tube station serves excellent nosh at a fair price.
I wasn’t one of those Royal Arsenal supporters who childishly gloated when Phil Brown was relieved of his duties as Hull City manager. Despite his differences with God’s Own, I refused to laugh heartily when the news broke that whatever no-mark it is who runs the Hump-erside club had called time on Brown’s reign.
I just couldn’t bring myself to whoop with delight, splendidly rejoice or, indeed, raise a glass to celebrate his dismissal. That just isn’t sport, old boy. Listen, a chap is out of work — no-one should ever shoot one’s geggy off at that sad fact.
Much — ha, ha, Browny, do one down to the tanning salon and top up your nuclear glow!
Having laughed so much that I was legally obliged to apply for a Laughing Extension Order from my local council I have now calmed down and, having thought about it, I happen to think Brown will get a job in football sooner rather than later. I can actually see him at Arsenal one day: I was speaking to the programme sellers and they are in desperate need of more bods to flog ’em at the Emirates! Boom, boom.
Helder, King of Holland
Finally, a word about our former player Glen Helder. As an island race we are quite insular and it may have escaped your notice that the Dutch Royal family have fast-tracked the tricky flanker through the regal ranks and he now finds himself as the King of Holland.
It’s a controversial move as there was talk of a more suitable former Gunner sitting on the throne with Marc Overmars and, of course, Dennis Bergkamp in the frame. But Helder it is and good luck to him for his reign. Incidentally, I was browsing my local 99p shop on Monday morning (killing time while Senga had her nails done) and was stunned to see they still had Glen Helder tax disc holders! Bought one for my Clock End cohort Christoff in the hope it will persuade him to drive to Blackburn.
As told to Carl Eldridge
Next week: Keep an eye out for an exclusive interview with Andy The Viking Fordham in which he reveals his plans to open a chip shop in Avenell Road.