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Jenny’s Journals

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I would say one of my most detested games to attend is when we play them Chavs. That team is able to stir and evoke emotions in me that I would rather remain hidden. I dislike EVERYTHING about that club. But I was up for it today (when am I never). Got down the Twelve Pins a bit earlier than normal. Got into a slight disagreement with the security outside. It was one of those “Bitch Please moments”. All’s well that ends well.

After my slight flaring of the nostrils, frowning and scowling episode me and my geriatric mates, only joking, Heather, Paul and cute little Dan. Behind us we heard, oh there’s the mosque. You knew that had to be the Chavs behind you. Being a dusky maiden (long story), not always sure I want them behind me. At least I was not trying to get on a train, I suppose!!! They soon came passed us (as my lot don’t exactly rush to get to the stadium, 5 or 6 geezers, I mean the “hey look at me type”. You know noisy, shorts and polo shirts and what should be, I think they consider a bit of a West London swagger. My first thought was fucking hell, how old are you, walking down the middle of the road giving it large. Fucking laughable really.

The atmosphere was buzzing but I really was not expecting what happened next. Cheeky Alexis after 11 minutes, Theo after 14 minutes and Özil after 40 minutes. Too much excitement for me, thank goodness for half-time to calm my nerves.

We put 3 past those West London c&*ts, would have like to see if those geezers had any swagger left. Oh my days, was I going to enjoy myself tonight and so I did - got home at 1.05am, happy days.

I was still buzzing when the Champions League game came around against Basle, but which Arsenal would turn up now. 1-0 after 8 minutes, lovely. Credit where credit due Theo has been playing very well. Maybe he needed real competition for places and the hurt of being left out of the Euros meant that he can no longer afford to be a one trick pony. Look at the Arsenal going in for the kill, really turning on the style. There’s more holes in the Basle defence then you find in a chunk of Emmental. Walcottttttt 2-0, this boy (sorry man) means business. Not even 30 minutes played, despite all our pressing that is how the game finished. We need to remember we should be going for top of the group and nothing less.

Away to Burnley – never been to their ground before so thought why not. However Buddha Gooner was like “Why Burnley” to which I replied “Why not Burnley”. The ever extremely punctual Buddha Gooner was outside my house rearing to go, even though I had to go back in about 4 times. She unnerves me with her speaking clock punctuality.

After a bit of a kerfuffle and the right coach turns up we departed the Emirates some 30 minutes late.

There were two young lads on the coach that I had never seen before, in fact they did not even seem like they would even be interested in football. They had that stereotypical look of gamers. Then I noticed they were a couple, my next thought was please don’t anyone say anything or making any snide comments because I am so ready for you. My maternal instincts were in overdrive. I was like go on I dare you, any of you make a single comment and you will regret. Not a peep from anyone, don’t even know why I was even worried in the first place.

What a shit drive up there, so much blooming traffic, did not even have enough time to find a local pub before kick-off. Turf Moor does have an outdoor drinking area. It was the pits, it looked like some had just popped to the cash and carry and bought some cases of lager and bitter and piled them up. Not an effin fridge in sight. Warm bloody lager, I mean is that a northern thing or something.

Inside the ground with a cold pint we met some old boys, namely the delightful Bobby and Geoff from the Yorkshire Gooners, proper lovely grandad material. I said to the Buddha after they went we are always getting into some lovely chats with people to which she replied that because we are “Dusky Maidens”. I do like that name for us, I am so used to people calling me worse. I think it is just be they get confused by my direct approach but yet winning smile or that I can be a complete gobshite if the mood takes me.

My friend text me to say she had just seen me on the telly, I said please tell me I was not doing anything stupid, she confirmed I was not. Phew, I had just been giving the Burnley fans the two-finger salute as they felt at bit aggrieved at our late goal. I felt they should be blaming their manager who tried to suck the life out of a game of football. Been a long time though since I left a ground singing 1-0 to the Arsenal.

To prepare us for our long journey back one of the local residents decided to repeatedly re-enact the goal in his front garden. Hilarious.

To be honest this international break better not have messed with our momentum. After going through the embarrassment of Big Fat Sam. I mean all that Sam did was basically showed us what we already knew and geriatric Ken tells me so often, is that he is a flat cap wearing, whippet racing, gravy loving, bitter drinking, pigeon racing, greedy northern bastard! The booing of the England captain, must have fallen asleep during that the game was so dull. The media full of Rooney this and Rooney that. BORE OFF!!

Anyway we have Swansea next at home, who have in the past been that proverbial banana skin, plus they have a new American manager. Hope those boys come back from the international break with that same intensity and hunger.

Until next time #upthearse


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First Goal Scorer V Liverpool