No Time to Dye

A luxurious mega yacht, anchored in the majestic Mediterranean, just off the shore of Mallorca. From a distance the scene is typical. Two wealthy tanned middle aged men enjoying the opulent lifestyle that the majority of us have only seen in magazines and 1980’s porn films. Servants, dressed in crisp whites attend the needs of these two men, who, relaxing by the yacht’s own pool, drinks in hand, could be assumed to be at ease, not just with each other, but with the world at large and their place in it. But such an assumption would be most misleading. For despite the trappings of wealth and the array of buxom beauties preparing themselves below for this evening’s ‘entertainment’, these two men were rather disturbed. The first, Arsenal’s director of football, Edu, was tentatively attempting to placate the second, Arsenal manager Mikel Arteta who was upset and making little effort to disguise it.

MA: (voice rising with every word) How many times Edu? How many fucking times do I have to explain it to you? What you buy reflects on me. It makes me look bad when you buy inferior shite. Is that what you want? To make me look bad??

Edu: (humbly) No boss, honestly.

MA: I need quality purchases, I couldn’t have been any clearer.

Edu: Yes boss.

MA: (with biting disdain) Well then, what the fuck is this? (He holds up something between his thumb and index finger but it is difficult for the naked eye to perceive, let alone identify it).

Edu: (sullenly) It’s one of your hairs boss.

MA: And what colour is it?

Edu: (optimistically) Silver, boss?

MA: (furious) Silver my beautiful Spanish ass!! It’s grey you blind Brazilian fuckwit. And why is it grey?

Edu: (mumbling) Because I bought the wrong boot polish for your hair.

MA: (maliciously) Yes you did. I told you I would be swimming, I warned you the photographers would flock all around this (sweeps his two hands down his torso ala CR7 goal celebration). And what have you done? Forgotten to get the dark black, water resistant polish that I specifically asked you to buy, that’s what!

Edu: But boss, it’s just one hair, nobody would notice.

MA: (fuming) Just one hair! Just one hair!! That’s your problem right there. You don’t understand that any lowering of standards, no matter how miniscule can precipitate a collapse. Do you think I came 3rd in  Barcelona ‘b’ ‘s player of the season 2006 with that type of attitude?

Edu: (feebly) No boss, it’s just that… (As he is speaking Arteta sits up revealing a large circular black patch on the cushion where his head had been).

MA: Just what?

Edu: (struggles to control his rising panic) Just that, ehm, that, I could never hope to have your insight into such things.

MA: (softening) Of course you couldn’t, but don’t be too hard on yourself, many people underestimate the importance of image (as he speaks black streaks flow down his face like a teenage girl at the prom who has just discovered her date in the bathroom with the prom queen). When people look at me they see power…panache…success.

Edu: (mutters) They see Robert Smith from The Cure.

MA: What’s that?

Edu: (recomposing himself) The cure, boss. They see you as the cure to all Arsenal’s woes.

MA: Yes, the cure… like Sylvester Stallone in Cobra “Crime is the disease and I’m the cure”.

Edu: (aside) If you replace crime with attractive football I guess…

MA: (loudly) Now, down to business. How are we doing on the transfer front? Have you got me a new striker yet?

Edu: (Smiling and winking in a manner that was meant to appear cunning but actually gave his face the appearance of a man having a stroke) Yes boss. I’ve told all the papers we’re ‘bidding’ for Mbappe, Haaland and for good measure Vlahovic again.

MA: (Despairingly) No, no, no, you Brazilian buffoon! The ‘bid for a big name to keep the fans happy’ was January’s transfer policy! Since then we’ve managed to lose €110 million worth of strikers. We actually paid them to go! I NEED a new striker! CHRIST ALMIGHTY!!

Edu: (Confused. Picks up a pen and drinks coaster to write on) Wait, you actually want me to buy a striker?

MA: (infuriated) YES! JESUS!!

Edu: (nodding and scribbling on the coaster) Striker, Jesus, ok boss.

MA: And while you’re at it we’re going to have to give the fans something else to keep them onside, a marquee signing so to speak, a big name from Brazil perhaps.

Edu: (continuing to scribble and mutter to himself) Brazilian with big name, marquis something or other…check boss.

MA: And don’t forget to haggle. Remember what I taught you?

Edu: (proudly) Yes boss, get the price down. I’ve been practising boss. Fulham wanted to pay 12 million for Leno but I told them we won’t go a penny over 8.

MA: (Defiantly) Good man. We’ll show the begrudgers. Can’t run a business eh? Now, how are we fixed for tonight’s soirée?

Edu: Couldn’t be better boss, Tielemans’ agent Peter Smeets will be here at 7, Richard and Tim will be joining us at the same time. We’ll have drinks at 7, dinner at 8, girls at 9, contract sorted by 10!

MA: Perfect. And you’re sure you’ve laid the groundwork with Smeets? We don’t want to look foolish in front of those two spying lawyers!

Edu: (Smiling with pride) Sorted boss. I offered 30 million but he told me that spurs had offered 230 million.

MA: Conte! He’s fucked us again!

Edu: (Reassuringly) That’s what I thought boss. But Smeets told me that he doesn’t really like doing business with Levy and that he would fix it so we got Tielemans instead.

MA: (Delighted) That’s brilliant! How much?

Edu: (Equally thrilled) 80 million! And even better, we only have to give him a 5yr 200k a week contract.

MA: Fantastic. And what about Tielemans?

Edu: He’s getting 250k a week, seeing as he’ll actually be playing.

MA: I can’t wait to see those smug lawyers’ faces when they realise we’ve done it again!

Edu: (exhaling slowly with great satisfaction) We sure have!

MA: But now my fellow mud walking midfielder I must go. I cannot allow my enemies to catch even a glimpse of potential weakness (He holds up the grey hair to demonstrate his point while subconsciously running his other hand through his hair. Arteta is unaware as he separates hand from head of the black, oily mess his hand has become).

Edu: (desperately trying to keep Arteta’s attention away from his follicular quagmire) Soon we’ll have our squad ready and maybe then you and I can have a rest, (picks up his drink and using the cocktail stick skewers an olive which he begins to chew), God knows we could do with a holiday.

MA: Yes my friend, (using both arms outstretched, gestures at their idyllic surroundings) I could use a break from this cutthroat world of football management. But this is the price we must pay for immortality, no? Now, I must return to my villa to prepare for tonight’s meeting. I will take the jet ski. (begins descending a ladder at the ship’s side). I will see you at 7.

Edu: (waving) At 7 boss. (On hearing the roar of the jet ski engine he presumes he is alone and stretches sloth like on the lounge chair, drink in hand. His silence, and unfortunately his glass, is shattered by a most unexpected voice)

AW: Arise my faithful servant, I have need of your services.

(Edu’s entire body convulses in an instinctive need to immediately fling himself before his master and fumble subserviently with his zipper. Lacking one, the scene of Edu on his knees pulling the top of his speedos in and out, was somewhat unbecoming to say the least, but Wenger was clearly preoccupied with other issues).

AW: (Walking to the ship’s rail, beckoning Edu to join him with the slightest flick of his index finger). He is returning to shore?

Edu: Yes, my Lord.

(They both stare at the jet ski slowly disappearing towards land, a long black trail outlining the route it had taken).

AW: Damned jetskis, polluting the oceans with their oil.

Edu: (Somewhat guiltily) That’s not oil my Lord.

AW: (Haughtily) It matters not! My time is short. We must plan before the others arrive at 7.

Edu: (surprised) How… how did you know they would be here at 7?

AW: (amused) After all these years and still you would doubt me…I was here beside you all along.

Edu: (shocked) I would never doubt you my Lord, but how? We…I…never saw you!

AW: (Imperiously) Of course you didn’t. I was playing a charity beach soccer match. I had just nutmegged Zidane to score my hat trick when I spotted the impostor making his way on his jet ski towards the yacht. I decided to follow him. I waited till Jurgen Klinsmann scored and then, pretending to celebrate with him, I grabbed on to his legs as he dived into the water. By the time he had stopped skimming we were almost at the yacht. So I quietly climbed on board while that Spanish plodder was tying up the jetski on the other side. You had gone to greet him which gave me all the time I needed to hide.

Edu: But hide where master? There is nowhere to conceal yourself.

AW: (With the arrogance of those who can) Maybe that is true for mere mortals. But I knew with my perfectly bronzed body that if I lay down horizontally at the rail I would be indistinguishable from an oar.

Edu: (in disbelief). But what about your hair?

AW: I had thought of that. While in the water I grabbed some dolphin faeces and used it to dye my hair the perfect shade of sanded wood. I removed my trunks and hid my manhood between my closed legs in a move I learned from ‘Silence of the Lambs’. And as you can see I have had a little ‘Brazilian’ of my own.
(Edu’s mouth drops open as for the first time he realises that Arsene Wenger is absolutely naked standing before him).

Edu: My Lord, it is pure genius.

AW: But of course. I lay there watching and listening. Now you must listen to me. This impostor’s time must come to an end. He is destroying my beloved club with his anti-football. He is making Robespierre’s rule in France look like a cultural revival.

Edu: Before my time boss. Was he manager of the ’82 team?

AW: Quiet you fool!! This transfer window will be his end, I will make sure of it. When Tim Lewis suggests this evening that Bissouma would be an excellent acquisition given his quality and his price, you must not agree, do you hear me?

Edu: Yes master.

AW: You are to tell that Spanish omelette that Bissouma is an independent thinker. That should seal his fate.

Edu: Bit harsh on the travelling community though isn’t it?

AW: (Sighs and repeats himself, emphasising the h) Thinker you numbskull, I said thinker. Now, it is my belief that funds will not be as freely available as he might think so it is essential that you do not raise too much in sales. What are the outgoings looking like?

Edu: (ashamedly) My Lord, Auba, Lacazette, Kolasinac, Chambers are gone for free. (A sob enters his voice) But I’m afraid I have already raised 2 million from the sale of Mavropanos and 9 from the sale of Guendouzi. I might have to accept money for Bellerin, Leno and Maitland-Niles, but I’m pretty sure I can keep them in single figures. Torreira and Nelson also want to leave. We had a raffle for Runnarson but the winner returned him yesterday and demanded his pound back. (collapses to his knees in shame) Forgive me my Lord, I have failed you.

AW: (Smiling, he moves towards Edu consolingly, however the combination of his nudity and Edu’s head position leads to a very uncomfortable few seconds for the latter). Edu, my faithful lackey. There is nothing to apologise for. You have wiped more value off the entire Arsenal squad than the Wall Street crash did from the American Stock Exchange in 1929. Your genius will not go unrewarded.

Now go and prepare for your guests. I will contact you again soon but for now I have a meeting with a Mr Saliba that I do not intend to miss…

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[Satire] is a collection of brilliance from one of our readers Almuniasaynomore, who can be seen lurking in comments often. If you are a gooner by heart, is saddened by the current state of Arsenal Football Club, this section tries to have a laugh at expense of some.

If you feel offended, remember, they’re just jokes. We’re all gonna die soon and there’s no football in hell or heaven, so remember that.

Feedbacks are welcome in the comments!