The Shadow of the Arse

History became legend,

Legend became myth

And for two and a half thousand years, the War Chest passed beyond all knowledge.

The Mouth of Suaron

It began with the signing of the new contract. Three clauses were written for the Kop, delusional, simplest and loudest of all beings. Seven for House Henry, small-minded craftsmen of Scousedor in all her ruin. And nine, nine clauses were written for the Agents, who above all else desire power. For within these clauses was bound the strength and will to govern the Dark Lord Suaron.

But they were all of them deceived, for another clause was made. Deep in the mines of Scousedor, in the fires of Mount Seventhplace, the Dark Lord Suaron forged a release clause, and into this paragraph he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate the Premier League.

One by one, the utter fools of Scousedor fell to the power of the clause, but there were some who resisted. A last alliance of lawyers and management marched against Lord Suaron and on the very threshold of their trophy room, they fought to save face with the rest of Middle-Earth. Victory was near, but the power of the clause could not be undone. It was in this moment, when anyone who could perform simple addition gave in to what was written, that Brentan Rockswallower took up his father’s microphone.

Lord Suaron, despite our attempts to free him, was defeated. Wengemir offered a final price to Scousedor, a price that would destroy the clause forever, but the hearts of men are easily corrupted. The clause, however, was patient. It betrayed Brentan, to his doom, and was picked up by the unlikeliest of creatures. A hobbit, Dicky Lawbuckle, stumbled upon Suaron’s clause. For the time has come when Hobbits will shape the course of our history. 

Foreheads in the Dark

Now we come to the creature Gollum. Gollum Yao Kouassi, that is. I am afraid that his forehead has consumed him. It gave him unnatural long life in an Arsenal shirt. His precious final ball rests elsewhere. It abandoned Gollum. But let us not forget Smegoal. Two beings fighting over one forehead. Gollum Yao Kouassi fought in the rolling hills of Bradford, while Smegoal appeared with the occasional goal or assist. Whatever fate awaits them, we can only hope that they do not find their precious in battle against us. 

An Ancient Enemy

They’re taking our transfers to Isengard! Even as I remain loyal to Lord Wengemir, I am disappointed in our efforts to knight new heroes under our banners. Our business is as baffling as a tale from Tomas Bombadil. In recent days I have even gone so far as to suspect a dragon looming over our coffers. Nevertheless, the gift of time remains, and all we have to decide is who to buy with the time that is given to us.

What makes this quest particularly challenging is the shadow of sour deals gone past. We need look no further than masters Mata and Higuain to rediscover this bitter taste. Still, a true knight to bolster our ranks would cleanse our pallets and sweeten our pursuit of other targets. Let us hope that our business might remain unnoticed and our passage swift.

Our Fellowship was broken this summer as we parted ways with seasoned knights and squires alike, but we will not abandon our squad to torment and dropped points. Not while we have our strength.

For the time being, we travel light. Let’s hunt some Spuds.

Helm’s Arse

Where now the pace and power?
Where are the goals that were flowing?

Where now Henry and Bergkamp, invincible and all-knowing?
Where is the Arsenal topping the table, and the red fire glowing?

They have passed like rain on the pitch, like wind through the tunnel;
The deals have gone down in wells of oil, behind FFP and into shadow.

Who shall gather the smoke of the deadwood burning,
Or behold the flowing years of Arsenal returning?

Here our journey begins under siege and strife. There will be no joyous passage through the friendly fields of the Shire to mark our Fellowship’s departure. Only the enemy at our gates, hungry to being their own campaign with a sweet victory over our thin company.

By all that you hold dear, lend your voice to what remains of this squad. The enemy is upon us, aye, and we will ride out to meet them! Indeed we stand together in a puzzling whirlwind of whispers and rumors, unsure of what lies ahead down the dark, swift stream of modern football. And yet we will ride out to meet them, our banners flowing forth upon our keep at Edoras. For glory, and the red and white dawn!

Look for my coming on the 3^rd of September. At dawn, look to the Emirates.

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