At Bloody Long Last

I was rewatching the Wolves-Arsenal game the other night, and damn, it seemed liked light years ago. Just think. What has happened since then?

First, RVP first was ruled out for the rest of the season, then maybe less, then, thankfully, 4-6 weeks, and now he's getting placenta massaged into his ankle.

Second, Kieran Gibbs had a broken metatarsal, then maybe not, and now, he could even be back for the Chelski game.

Third, we very nearly came close to Irish armageddon, as Damien Duff cried, Keane went ballistic, the Irish FA lost it, and Thierry Henry gets crucified. All in all, not unusual madness from the British media, footballing observers and the lot. For what I think is probably the best read, just head on to the Arseblogger.

That stupid handball fiasco basically tells you what happens when you deprive grown men of proper football for too long. They go mad. They kill their wives, burn their their homes, then they start lynching "cheats". For pete's sake...

Thank god then for football tomorrow. (But before that, let me just make a point about how absolutely unbelievably unconscionably crap France are. I mean, for a team of so much individual talent, to be able to mould them into a team of absolute nothingness, must involve some mighty talent. And for that, there can be no other than Raymond Domenech. What the French are still doing with him, nobody knows. Or maybe someone does).

So tomorrow then. First, Theo's back. Denilson too. We might see Eduardo start, while the Arsh gets a few minutes off to cry a few more tears into his pillow. Russia. Losing out to Slovenia. Ah. The wonders of World Cup qualifying. Wonder if the Russians are going to start ranting about seeding. I mean, what the shit is about this seeding nonsense anyway, say the Irish.

It's going to be a nice little OD of footie tomorrow to get over the long long long international break. Pool - Citeh in the early kick-off, then we play, Chelski too, and the Man U. I can already feel my arse merging into the sofa as I type.

Let's get this little task of Sunderland out of the way then. With Kenwyne Jones out, and Craig Gordon too, I hope things are really that little bit easier.

Ciao. Till then.