The Wenger family of Strasbourg, France admitted this week to bracing themselves in advance for the annual marathon of ‘golden memories’ from their famous grandad.
“Robert fucking Pires,” little Francois Wenger, 8 and a half, says rolling his eyes. “The man looks like an extra in pirates of the fucking Caribbean. ”
“Have I ever told you the time we went an entire season without losing a game?” Arsene, rolling a Werther’s original around his dentures will say. “Leave right now’ was top of the hit parade by the classic crooner Will Young and people were flocking in droves to watch The Bourne Supremacy in glorious Technicolor ”
“I wore an onion on my belt, as was the style of the time. United were still an attacking team back then of course, and the premier league was mainly just a gaggle of gents who used to play for A.C. Milan in the 90s.”
“We drew 12 games that year. The perfect amount. And even though we lost crucial cup ties to Man Utd, Middlesbrough, Chelsea, Inter and Dynamo Kiev, and were dumped out of every cup, it still counts.”
“Aye they were grand days. You could go to the pictures on four and six and still have enough for a tram ride home to bring a jar of pickled plums to your sweetheart.”
“Yes grandad. ”
“Football’s just not the same these days,” Wenger will mutter, falling asleep in an armchair in front of Parque Jurrasique on the TV, “It’s all false nines and three man midfields. These Guardiola teams they try and walk it into the net.”