The Arsenal AGM was held this Thursday just gone, and Arsene surprised even some of his fiercest critics by fielding all questions hurled at him. The normal format at the AGM is for attendees to submit questions, in advance, for Board members to answer. Except our potential future owner surly Silent Stan, he apparently just sat looking sullen and said bugger all. Nice!
Arsene had a rough ride last year at the AGM, and was expected to provide only ready-made answers this year, but not a bit of it. He is a knowledgeable, decent man and treats all questioners with candour and humour, sometimes to his own detriment.
For instance, earlier in the week, Arsene had admitted, at his regular press conference, that he had sometimes been economical with the truth. Wow, can’t you just hear the media and opposition fans sharpening their pens, or in this digital age, making sure Microsoft Word is set to automatically check their spelling and their grammar!
Arsene has recently admitted to telling little white lies, to questions asked by the press boys! Oh my goodness, that’s appalling, the “Meedja” would never, ever tell porkies. They are as pure as the driven snow, and that goes without saying. Yeah, right!
A News of the World reporter saw half a dozen kids standing in a circle with a dog on a string. Worried they intended to hurt the dog, he asked them what they were going to do with it. “Oh, he’s a stray and we all want to keep him, so we are going to have a competition, and the one who can tell the biggest lie, gets to keep him”. Horrified, the reporter said, “Don’t you know it’s wrong to lie. When I was your age I never told a lie.” There was a minute’s silence, until the youngest boy said, “Alright, give him the dog”.
Out of the mouths of the innocents ………..
Arsene said he always consulted with the player concerned, before telling the media the agreed story. So, do his fibs come into the usual category, with which we are all familiar? You know; “Don’t worry……. I’m sterile” or “Of course I love you” or “She means nothing to me”. Or are they something more serious?
So what could be more serious you ask? Well how about something like this.
Young Johnny was taken to school by his dad, who told his new teacher he was worried about his son’s lying and gambling. When he returned in the afternoon to pick Johnny up, he asked the teacher how things had gone. The teacher said, “I think I have broken his gambling habit”, “How did you do that?” asked the dad. “Johnny bet me £2 that I had a mole on my bum”, said the teacher, “so I pulled down my knickers and won the bet by showing him I did not. He then said he would never gamble again”. “Damn”, said the dad, “the lying sod bet me £50 this morning that he would see his teacher’s bum, before I picked him up from school today”.
Darn it, I think I just mislead you, but was it important? No, I don’t think any harm was done. And that’s the point. If a lie is spoken to deceive for gain, or to harm someone, that is serious, but I doubt that any fib perpetrated by Arsene falls into this category. He clearly said what he did to protect the player, and not for any wicked purpose.
So what would I classify as “wicked”? That, of course, is very subjective, as one person’s wicked is another person’s funny. What do you think of the following?
A bus filled with politicians was taking a remote country road, on its way to the next political venue, when the driver became distracted and crashed the bus into a ditch, turning it over.
A farmer rushed over to the scene and because of the remote location, decided to bury all the bodies.
The next day the police showed up and questioned the farmer. “So you decided to bury all the politicians? Were they all dead?”. “Well” said the farmer “some of them said they weren’t, but you know how politicians lie!”
If you have stayed with me up to here, you are probably aware by now, I don’t have much time for the stupid feeding frenzy, encouraged by certain journalists, whenever Arsene Wenger opens his mouth.
So I leave you with this thought;
Sport of choice; for Fleet Street maintenance workers. Basketball
Sport of choice; for Fleet Street Office Cleaners. Rugby
Sport of choice; for Fleet Street Secretaries and Office Workers. Volley Ball
Sport of choice; for Fleet Street Receptionists. Cricket
Sport of choice; for People who hate Arsene. Golf
Sport of choice; for Fleet Street Journalists. Table Tennis
The moral of this is that Journalists play with the smallest balls.
Written by Red Arse