It’s grim up north London

Off to Arsenal; avocado and kumquat a speciality.

After Wednesday night’s expedition to an old-fashioned northern stadium full of what marketing folk would call ‘heritage’ supporters, everything about what we get up to on Saturday will be the exact opposite.

Gloryhunting plasticity – check. Media obsession – double check. A sense of entitlement on a scale unparalleled anywhere on earth – more checks than a Burberry warehouse. And added to all this is a “Gosh isn’t footy fab!!!” attitude that other clubs at least try to hide but here it’s welcomed and encouraged. Yes, it’s our annual chance to see the Emirates and sneer. Then there’s that TV channel and, just like the Darkness a few years ago, nobody’s worked out yet whether it’s a piss-take or whether they’re being deadly serious. They’ve got supporters moaning about the handful who sing every now and again, so the ‘deadly serious’ option is probably favourite.

In an ideal world Arsenal would be relegated for inflicting all the above, plus Piers Morgan, onto us. Then again it wouldn’t have much effect. Last time Arsenal were in division two they didn’t bother beating the other teams, they just bribed them. Good old Arsenal.

They’ve got a load of players they spent a fortune on but what they haven’t got is the best keeper in the world and the best manager in the country. They did have both but somehow mislaid them, which is a bit daft. They’ve got a manager who is either worshipped or vilified depending on how they got on the week before. And Piers Morgan.

Lining up against them are the usual array of Astonian world-beaters, with the possible addition of our latest Dutch superstar. Every club in the shout for the Champions League has been going through a rough patch at some time and we’ve ended ours. Another win and another Woe Is Us session from a load of attention-seeking media darlings. And Piers Morgan.