this is a photo of an alpha male, hyper-evolved specimen, probably the finest on record, wearing one of his massive (truly) collection of white t-shirts. This one was from the Tate Modern and is entitled ‘Coffee Splash’, a replica of an early work by the surrealist Marcello D’Souza D’Costa D’lightful and represents man’s inhumanity to man but with undertones of the inner struggle of the early socialists in his native Brasil to overcome the fascist brutality. Which you can see quite clearly.

It also represents man’s inherent inability to hold a fucking coffee cup with a fucking great hole in the fucking lid and avoid squeezing it when getting out of the fucking car when fully fucking laden with shopping bags.

All of which would normally cause upset and depression in my life. And more dusters for Mel.

And yet, and yet, and yet…

Sunday was a happy day. It was gorgeous. Sunny, calm, hot, lovely. Tennis was great. Lunch was even better. We walked across the Heath. We had ice creams. And as they melted, so did my early funk instilled by the tragic loss of Spurs on Saturday. It just vanished. As if by magic.

In this instance, claret & blue magic as seen at the Emirates in the early afternoon. And magical it was indeed. The very young, cobbled together West Ham team up against the embattled, highly-rated Arsenal superstars. So superstarish that Wenger didn’t feel the need to buy anyone this year but a goalie. A wonderful goalie though he unquestionably is. They had no need for strikers, even though Giroud proves again and again that he is not quite up to the mark. Though I suppose that depends where one sets ‘the mark’. If its pretty low, Olivier’s fine. Walcott was there too, but we’re still never sure where to play him so he may or may not have been another ineffectual striker. We won’t know for another few years, probably.

But the Hammers (who I don’t really like very much generally but was prepared to forgive in the short term) just soaked up the inevitable Arsenal possession and bombardment and scored a couple of fab goals. The first one was regarded as ‘Cech’s fault’ but really he was in a ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ situation when the free kick came across.

So once again I had to ask myself some pretty deep questions:

Am I really so pathetic and shallow that Arsenal losing a game is sufficient to make the weekend ‘a great one’?

Does their loss make up for Spurs lacklustre performance at Old Traf.?

Could I be that sad and sorry a poor excuse for ‘a man’?

Yep, it would appear so.

Happy Monday

A xxxx