Normal service...

Get back to prison you horrible, scouse scumbag

Did you think (hope) I'd gone for good? No such luck. Since the early hours of Saturday morning I've been suffering with a nasty dose of flu. Not the much-fabled man-flu, but genuine, knock the strength out of you, keep you in bed for days, proper flu. I spent Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday (and a good part of yesterday) in bed, pretty much unable to move. Plenty of people have "flu" every year, but rarely is it the kind of flu that should genuinely qualify as such - that is actually fairly rare, I believe - particularly among younger people. As a result of this ailment I have missed work (missed it in the sense that I haven't been there, rather than missed it in the sense that I would rather be there) since Saturday night and, as you will have noticed, I've missed blogging every day (and I definitely did want to blog).

I won't review the Man City game as it seems a lifetime ago to me. Thanks to the wonders of multi-room I was able to watch the game through my sick-induced haze, though it's fair to say I wasn't celebrating any of the goals in the usual fashion, not to say the win. Almost as soon as the match was over I closed my eyes and went to sleep for about twenty minutes, something I could never normally do after any game, or any result. As far as the game itself went I didn't think it was a great performance, though Nasri and Chamakh were outstanding. Fabregas won man-of-the-match on Sky - is he the new Bryan Robson (small gag for the older generation there)? All that mattered was the result on Sunday, and a 3-0 win at Eastlands was very welcome.

I'll keep the rest of this brief as staring at a computer screen is giving me a headache again.

Last night saw another convincing away win, this time in the League Cup. I was surprised at two of the starting eleven - Eastmond and Vela, preferred to Lansbury and Emmanuel-Thomas, really disappointed me. Lansbury, in particular, must be feeling a little disillusioned today, especially as Eastmond was a genuine weak-link in the Arsenal chain last night. Hopefully Vela's "performance" will be one of his final chances in the first-team, with Big Jay moving ahead of him - he did more in his nine minutes of action than Vela did in seventy.

Aside from that I thought the boys played pretty well, with Koscielny shining at the back, and Theo showing why he could make a great strike partner for Chamakh (a bit like Alan Smith and Ian Wright, perhaps). Four more goals away from home was a fair reflection of Arsenal's general dominance, though Sczeszny enhanced his reputation still further, meaning that there is some genuine competition for the goalkeeper spot right now. All in all it was a super win and, judging by the fact that Fabregas was an unexpected sub, Wenger seems to have finally got the message about needing to win something (anything).

I can't leave last night's game though without mentioning Joey Barton (henceforth to be known, according to the Sky commentators, as "the reformed character Joey Barton"). What scum this man is. Once again Andre Marriner failed to do his job properly, as Barton should now be serving a suspension on Saturday for his assaults on Eastmond and Fabregas. The foul on Craig Eastmond was sickening, but typical of the cowardly scouse bastard. So, too, the challenge on Cesc. That he was only booked for one of them (the second one) shows the referee to be an incompetent cretin. You never see Barton picking on anyone bigger than himself - can you see him daring to kick someone like Chris Samba? I'd love to see someone like Vieira go out in a blaze of glory by showing Barton what it's like to get REALLY hurt in the tackle. Nobody would shed any tears. The man belongs in prison, so let's hope he finds his way back there soon.

I'll preview the West Ham game tomorrow evening, after I get home from my first day back at work. Hopefully normal service is resuming - it's no fun being ill, even if it stops you from working.