With friends like these…

June 2023.

Mikel Arteta’s fourth season as Arsenal manager has concluded and the traditional end of season celebration is underway in a plush, undisclosed, London Hotel. The team, management, auxiliary staff and board members are being treated to a meal worthy of league champi.. runners up. Although attempts to mingle the group together have been made there is one obvious exception. On a raised alcove, in the corner of the spacious dining room, slightly more shaded than the rest, as if the lighting itself could sense the mood, sat Arsenal’s brains trust, manager Mikel Arteta, DOF Edu, assistant manager Steve Round, goalkeeping coach Inaki Cana, CEO Vinai Venkatesham and chairman Josh Kroenke. Another seat was provided but remained conspicuously empty.

Underneath the table, furnished with his own bowl and plate was Arsenal’s newest signing, Win the dog. Although each member had taken turns to inject a sense of celebration into the evening, a dull, painful sense of loss permeated the air.

JK: Aw come on guys! This is meant to be a party. I haven’t seen anything this tragic since Gervinho’s haircut!

SR: Yeah, c’mon lads we need to snap out of it, get a few drinks in (signals for the waiter to approach). Sorry mate, can you bring us a round of lagers please?

Waiter: Certainly sir, pints? Glasses?

SR: Bottle for me.

VV: And me.

MA: Me too.

SR: (interrupts to speed up the process) We’re all bottle jobs here mate, thanks. (Continues on unaware of his innuendo). Season’s over now, it’s time to unwind and enjoy ourselves.

Edu: And hallelujah to that! I’m so tired travelling the world staying in these soulless luxury hotels, I just need a break from it all, you know? Treat myself to a relaxing holiday…nice hotel…somewhere foreign. (Lifts his drink) So come on guys, let’s live a little.

MA: (Shakes his head guiltily) It’s my fault lads.

SR: You mean your failure to rotate?

Edu: The glaring inadequacies of the Winter transfer window?

VV: Your selection brainfarts?

JK: The Saliba contract debacle?

IC: The inevitable and painful decline of our top players at the season’s climax…again.

MA: (Shocked into anger) NO YOU JUDAS PRICKS! I was talking about tonight! My mood! I’m struggling to get into a festive spirit.

All: (looking at each other sheepishly) Oh right…of course boss…sorry boss…no offence boss.

Edu: (attempts to repair the damage) C’mon boss, eat your dinner, you like steak. I sourced it myself.

MA: I do like a bit of steak, it has to be said. Where did you get it?

Edu: Man City were here last night, preparing for the cup final, they had this left over, said we could have it (this news is greeted with general murmurs of approval by all)

MA: A coup indeed Edu, well done. (picks up his glass and takes a sip) And the wine, excellent, is this your doing too?

Edu: I wish I could take the credit boss but in truth it was a gift from Chelsea, they sent us a few cases as a gesture of goodwill between our clubs.

IC: (Sniffing and sipping from his glass) It’s a delightful vintage indeed, aged very well.

JK: (confused) And aged is a good thing?

Edu: Oh yes!

MA: But only if it’s from Chelsea.

JK: Only from Chelsea?

MA: Yes only Chelsea.

JK: But isn’t that who we signed Willian from? That guy left in a bit of huff didn’t he?

MA: A simple misunderstanding, long since cleared up. When I signed him I told him he’d be replacing Mkhitaryan and that he’d be winning the champions league in 3 years time. Poor old Willian thought I was talking about him when of course I was merely predicting Mkhitaryan’s forthcoming appearance in this year’s final.

SR: (looking adoring at Arteta) A prophet in his own lifetime.

(Just then a tall figure approached the table, slowly, moving with the quiet dignity of a man who knows that his past is a medal worn confidently on his chest, it earns him respect, it gives his words gravitas)

JK: Arsene my man, not like you to be late when there’s a free meal to be had! Come, sit down, there’s a chair here for you.

AW: My apologies gentlemen, (turns to stare directly at Arteta) there seems to have been some sort of mix up. I was given directions to a different hotel.

JK: Aw shucks, well not to worry, you’re here now and we’re going to make a damn fine night of it, Pop’s treat. I trust you all got settled into your rooms ok, only the best Pops said.

SR: You’re too generous Josh (chuckles to himself) they gave me the honeymoon suite.

Edu: (high fives Steve Round) Nice one, but get this, I’m in the room above you! The penthouse suite! (looks at Arteta) What about you boss? Where are you?

MA: (Speaking to Edu but never breaking eye contact with Wenger) I am in the highest room in the hotel, the presidential suite. (At this all those seated at the table whistle lowly in appreciation) And where have they put you Arsene?

AW: (Smiling like he is the only man in the world intelligent enough to get the joke) I am in the room above you.

MA: (irritated) Impossible! I am on the top floor.

AW: (the smile broadening) And I am on the next level.

MA: (growing increasingly frustrated) And what is the next level?

AW: (innocently) The next level is the next level.

(Arteta, at this point unable to control his anger, opens his mouth to roar his opposition only to swallow a rather large and unchewed piece of steak. He grabs his throat, struggling to breathe as his face turns a peculiar crimson shade. All this time the other members of the group continue to eat and chat. The waiter, appalled at the scene runs over to help)

Waiter: (Pointing at Arteta) Gentlemen…your friend…shall I call a doctor?

JK: (extending a placating arm to the waiter) No need to worry my man, we got this.

Edu: (calmly) This is a regular occurrence

SR: Especially at this time of year.

VV: Watch. Mikel… (All eyes turn to Arteta who has been writhing on the ground gasping for air). Mikel…the season’s over. (Suddenly Arteta sits up and spits out the offending piece of meat.)

MA: Well thank fuck for that.

JK: By the way Mikel, gotta ask you, what’s the deal with the mutt? What it’s name?

MA: (genuine warmth in his voice) You mean Win? Well I just thought it would give the lads a boost to have a friendly animal around the ground. Relieve the pressure a bit you know? I’ve  always been a dog lover myself. (Cuts a small piece of steak and lowers his hand under the table, smiling as he feels the warm tongue licking his hand, the comforting sensation of a head resting on his lap)
Its my view that… (his speech is halted mid sentence as he sees a contented Win perched on Arsene’s lap, his former manager stroking the dog with the refined grace of a Bond villain. Becoming alarmed at the weight pressed on his lap Arteta slowly lifts the tablecloth to see Steve Round looking up at him.) Jesus Christ!
(Arteta pushes back his chair) Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.

AW: I’ll accompany you if you don’t mind.

MA: (with ill grace) Of course not, after you.

AW: (Smiling) Naturally…

(the two men quickly find themselves alone in the bathroom and metaphorical masks are dropped hastily)

MA: (snarling) Just what is your game?

AW: (defensively) I don’t understand…

MA: (Furiously) You bloody understand all too well. You came into my office two months ago to ‘advise’ me, told me to give holding more game time, start Vieira in the middle of the park, drop Trossard and freeze out ESR. We were top of the league! I did what you said and we fucked it!! Massively!! And you haven’t been seen since!

AW: (soothingly) Mikel, my friend. You must look at the bigger picture. What is it you want most? To win the premiership no?

MA: You know it is.

AW: And to do this, to match the financial juggernaut that is Manchester City, you will need money no?

MA: (anger starting to fade) Of course.

AW: (Smoothly) Well then, you must show the moneymen that investment is needed. Let them see the disadvantages that are crippling you. Highlight our vulnerabilities so to speak.

MA: (Starting to believe) So we threw the title to City in order to secure further financial investment?

AW: (Paternally) Yes my boy!
MA: (Proud at his understanding) And with this new investment I’ll be able to build a team that is good enough to…

AW: (Finishing his sentence) …to beat City to the title, yes.

MA: (tears in his eyes) Arsene, it’s genius. (Bowing his head) I’m sorry I ever doubted you.
AW: Nonsense my boy, you have had a difficult time of late. I have been there you know, trying to take down Fergie’s empire. If you ever need my advice you need only ask.

MA: (shyly, looking around the bathroom to confirm they are alone) Well actually, there is one thing you could help me with…

AW: Of course, anything.

MA: (almost whispering) How did you handle it? You know… the failure. I go to bed at night and try to sleep but all I can see is Ramsdale passing to the wrong team or Partey flicking the ball into an opponents path. I’m haunted, exhausted, shattered. Can you help me? Please!

AW: (puts his arms around Arteta consolingly) It’s all right my boy, it’s all right. I can help.

MA: (Overcome with gratitude) I knew I could rely on you. Tell me, how did you do it? How did you survive the terrors of a title collapse??

AW: (With one arm around Arteta’s shoulders and the other pointing up at some unseen inspiration Wenger utters the next few words as his listener stood trance like) In the season’s where our challenge collapsed I took comfort in…

MA: (Desperately) In??

AW: In the three titles that I won… (slaps a stunned Arteta on the back and walks out of the bathroom whistling happily to himself).

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[Satire] is a collection of brilliance from one of our readers Almuniasaynomore, who can be seen lurking in comments often. 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.

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