Way to go, Arsenal. You somehow managed to thrash Manchester City 5-1 and look like a bunch of clueless, delusional dorks doing it.
They say revenge is a dish best served cold, but nothing screams ‘we’re more insecure than Robert Sanchez’s spot in Chelsea’s first team’ like theming your goal celebrations around Erling Haaland.
First up, Gabriel screamed in the giant Norse terminator’s face after Arsenal’s opener like a petulant nine-year-old who’d finally beaten his brother on FIFA.
Then Myles Lewis-Skelly recreated Haaland’s ‘meditation’ pose after netting Arsenal’s fourth, exuding the sort of unearned self-satisfaction that would make even James Corden cringe.
Sure, they were acts of vengeance after Haaland s***housed them in September, but they were also pettier than a Donald Trump Twitter tantrum, and proved that they’re both about as thin-skinned as a soggy sausage roll.
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Remember when Haaland told them to “stay humble”? Well this is exactly what he was talking about, and the fact they haven’t clocked that is about as tragic as that North London Forever anthem of theirs.
Trash Rash
When Marcus Rashford said he wanted “a new challenge”, I doubt sitting on the bench behind Jacob Ramsey was what he had in mind.
But then again, that’s what he deserves after spending January sulking like a kid who’d been locked out of his dad’s iPad. This from the man who constantly tells us how resilient he is, but after one little setback he gives up faster than Reece James’ calf muscles.
What annoys me most is that despite this being a blatant case of toys getting thrown out of the pram, Rashford’s still the media’s little darling. After all, who doesn’t love a softly-spoken perma-victim? Look where it got Prince Harry!
(Image: Getty Images)
Oh, spare me this “the papers hate him” garbage – he’s thrown the same tantrum that Cristiano Ronaldo threw in 2022, yet he’s received a fraction of the negative press.
That’s especially bonkers considering that, unlike his equally-entitled former team-mate, Rashford has been about as invisible as the contents of Tottenham’s trophy cabinet over the past 18 months.
For me, Manchester United should just wash their hands of the pillock. His insecure egotism is as problematic as Harry Maguire holidaying in Greece.
You’d Saud off there if you could
I can’t stand all this moral posturing about moves to the Saudi Pro League. Sure, the quality in the division’s about as high as Peter Dinklage’s shins, but who cares when you’re being paid half the GDP of Luxembourg to play there?
Jhon Duran, who joined Al-Nassr from Aston Villa last week, isn’t a soulless sell-out because he swapped dreary Birmingham for tax-free millions and probably a pet tiger. He’s sensible. In fact, he’d have been crazier than the lovechild of Diego Costa and Gennaro Gattuso to say no.
Hell, if the Saudis offered me a million quid a month to jog about in 40 degree heat and compliment Ronaldo’s terrible free-kicks I’d be on the next flight out there – and so would you!