As Arsenal supporters, no matter how long we endured the infamous barren run, we always had a weapon primed for severe cases of Banteritis. Under rigorous negative focus, the majestic steed we rode into battle atop was always our flowing play. We could unlock a packed defence with our masterful artisans. We had passes up our sleeves that would flummox even the most astute defender. 

Wengerball. It has been our most prized asset for some time. Even during seasons past when our squad was being pillaged by the tyrannical might of Manchester and the Orcs from Fulham-way, the way we set up on the pitch drew admiring glances not only from begrudging journalists - but from the footballing elite.

For anyone who has been unfortunate enough to have had the @GoonerspherePod unleashed upon their unwitting eardrums and grey matter - you will no doubt be aware of the amount of times I lose my composure and become apoplectic. 

In this battleground we call modern life there is a plethora of incendiary items that are designed for the sole purpose of teasing that unappetizing vein that pops out on your forehead when you are vexed. Things that many people are unaffected by but when mitigating circumstances are obstructing you from a smooth passage through work and home - they can morph even the Saintliest into a frothing, seething ball of rage.