So the coward and the fraud sent a team out with "Please, please don't hurt us!", stamped on their foreheads? A yellow-bellied selection, a pre-game admission from a manager that knows he has fuck all with which to combat serious teams going about their serious business. Wenger's little fantasy land in which he's the emperor and there's enough money sloshing around and enough fawning pundits and still braindead cultist type fans to cover for his bollock nakedness.
What will his royal excuses be today? To add to his impressive catalogue of excuses that stretch back over a decade? How utterly ridiculous does it have to become before somebody at this club discovers they have balls and points at this prancing, stark naked, deluded fart and tells him to fuck off?
Für eure Sicherheit