Here is a lesson for you all. please learn from it, that my suffering will not be in vain.

When your other half, months before the date in question, asks if it's OK that he/she is out on a praticular day (leaving YOU to look after the kids) never EVER say yes without loking at the fixture list first. Prevaricate, procrastinate, evade, bluff, lie. Do whatever is necessary. Just get to that fixture list before you say yes.

Otherwise you'll end up like me. Stuck at home, trying to catch the web audio broadcast of The Arse V Sp*rs while two bored kids hassle you for their dinner and make your life miserable by making each other cry.

Fuck.

Bollocks.

Apologies in advance that I'll be leaving the blog update for the match to Copenhagen Chronicle's resident cretinous fool; Strongarm George.

Fuck. That is all.

I have given a description of myself : Tall, dashing, legs of a champion racehorse,ponytailed and a certain "je ne sais quoi" that makes me stand out in a crowd. From this vignette at 2.15 outside the Arsenal Shop at Finsbury Park I hear the whisper "psst Strongarm, wanna ticket !"

The legendary Nicosia Gooner is my saviour, ensuring that I don't return to Copenhagen without having witnessed the boys in red and white spank Sunderland. AND what of Nicosia ? The stories spread by the evil Chief Arrowhead of stored files.......quick to defend anyone wearing the red and white shirt...

Well we head straight for a chicken burger and copies of the Gooner and Highbury High. The chat on the way to the ground reveals that we share the same opinions on more or less everything AFC. The Clock End seat is close to the Sunderland fans, something I suspect the laid-back Nicosia enjoys!

I comment that Vieira will sit in front of the back 4 today and not push up.... Vieira,rather spitefully I feel, scores after 2 minutes....2-0 up after 5 minutes and the girl next to me applies the finishing lipstick touches to her mouth...not long afterwards Wiltord applies a finishing touch of his own and it's all over. Nicosia can't get the Liverpool score, but Miss Lipstick confirms that they are winning 2-0.....

The second half was spent exchanging pleasantries with the Sunderland fans....Highlights of the game:Pires getting a standing ovation as he came onto the pitch in a rehearsal for the player of the season trophy.....An exhilarated Edu grinning and almost blushing when the whole Clock End sang Edu to "Hey Jude"......the constant supply of sweets from Nicosia's entourage!

So another trip to London over, you can't beat the real thing... a sunny Highbury day and a chance to remember boyhood Clock End memories ; being let in free at the turnstiles with my old man and my trusty folding wooden stool !

The bar stool is no substitute, except when Headgear does one of his spectacular drunken tumbles off the afore-mentioned seating apparatus while peforming his extraordinary post goal "mount the stool and slap the wall" celebration.......hopefully he'll perform this act on many occasions in the last 6 to 8 games

StrongarmGeorge

After the Villa game I wrote a glowing and brilliantly written article in praise of Pires. The title was "Bob a lob good job" and was intended to be a double tribute to Bobby P and those flowerpot-headed heroes Bill and Ben.

The computer wisely seized up and prevented the www. publication of what would have been a lengthy tome based around words that rhyme with "Bob".

Anyway, a week later and I'm at Highbury, Arsenal Stadium THOF...call it what you like. Before I've had the chance to get irritated by the inane chatter of the two rotund regulars behind my old man's season ticket seat (I've nabbed my sister's) we are 2 goals up. 2 swift Dennis/Bob masterpieces.

Then just as the trivia chestnut; name 5 players whose name begins with the letter V who have played for England, is launched upon an unsuspecting and uninterested crowd, the unthinkable happens ...big prob Bob - sob......How the hell did it happen ?

the remainding 60 minutes is spent worrying , a brief YESSS to celebrate another Sol goal from a setpiece...a rousing reception for an impressive Edu. " He's out for the season" I mumbled to my old man.

So it proved.

Anyway before the game I saw Bobby Robson in the marble hall imparting wisdom to Bob Wilson...I waved and he returned a cheery one back ! Quite why I did it I don't know. Perhaps it was the memory of Italia 90...the New Order song still brings back the feelings.Highbury - It was great to walk up and down outside. To see the players' shirts hanging up through the windows...North Bank days always come flooding back, knotted scarves around the wrists...the only time I have knotted scarves around my wrists these days is....BUT I digress.....(!)

Sunderland on Saturday and my sister wants her seat back...a problem that needs to be solved. I wonder if my sister's cruciate ligament would stand up to a a bit of brotherly bother ? The season continues with or without me, but without Bobby for sure. Now is the time for the character of this great club to shine through......

Strongarm in London

Journalists, eh? Doncha just love 'em? They're the day-care nurses in the home for the incurably exhausted cliché. When they can't think of anything else to write (most of the time) they just wheel another old knackered line out for a short tour in The Sun. And when it comes to Dennis Bergkamp they've got a family pack of worn out phrases. While the top of the list has to be the less than amusing once-was-a-pun on a fabled haunted ship and Bergkamp's refusal to step on an aeroplane, the one I'll be trying to take apart here is usually not objected to by Bergkamp fans.

So, Bergkamp the "Dutch Master". Well, whats wrong with it, other than being a little overused now?

Lets start with the argument in favour. Bergkamp, when on top of his game, produces football so marvellous it can be likened to great art. Seeing as he's Dutch, and the Dutch have a proud tradition of fine art we'll stick him in with the other Dutch artists, the Dutch Masters.

Well yes, fair enough really, we can see that his grand vision, his masterly touch and his eye for detail is worthy of Rembrandt, and we could easily liken that "did he really just do that, he can't have done, what did he do?" feeling of watching a Bergkamp goal to the subtle suggestiveness of van Gogh, king of the impressionists. But really, if we we're to compare Bergkamp to an artist there are plenty of better examples, more fitting parallels, beter metaphorical twins...

Firstly we could mention Pablo Picasso. Picasso the genius, who rewrote art history. That fits quite well. We can note here that many a defender has been left looking more than a little like the screaming horse head in Guernica. And certainly Picassos humour seems to be reflected in the way Dennis mocks his opponents. But Bergkamp's goals are beautiful in a way that many Picassos are not.

We might want to bring up Edvard Munch for comparison. His painting "The Scream" has terrorized defender written all over it. But Munch isn't as big as Bergkamp, Dennis is somewhat grander.

A certain parallel could also be found with the surrealist art of Salvador Dali. The sheer absurdity of some of the goals Dennis scores, the irreverence for concepts of what can, and what can't, be done with a football are surely comparable with the monstrously ridiculous "Lobster Telephone" or one of the melting landscapes? But Bergkamps vision is broader, more complete.

With an emphasis on vision, the "big picture", we have an obvious duty to assess Dennis alongside a Turner land/sea-scape. Both Bergkamp and Turner have the ability to paint on the biggest of canvasses, to overwhelm the senses and to make one gasp. But Bergkamp distances himself from Turner with his human dimension, the attention to the people within the artwork. The fans, the opposition, the teammates - they're all involved in the art, not just passive subjects.

Perhaps MC Escher's impossible illusions suit the Bergkamp impossible goals? But while Escher twists the perceptions Dennis boggles the mind within the laws of the physical universe.

Monet is too serene, Mondriaan too square,Matisse too flamboyant.

Da Vinci is closer than the above, his genius stretched in all directions, but was centered on the human. In the end though we have to rule him out, if only because his greatest dream was for man to fly.

To fully appreciate Bergkamp as an artist we need to look at the execution of his art, the real-time action, the dialogue, the dance the telling of the story..... Now the true comparison can be made, now we can see the artist who most closely embodies the essence of Dennis Bergkamp....

"Well then kids....dum de dum de dum...we'll just splash a little on here...dum de dum de dumm....do a little of this over here....dum de dum de dummmm....can ya guess what it is yet?....dum de dum de dum.....just add a couple of things here....dum de dum dum duummmm.....have you got it yet? No? Keep watching.....dum diddle dum diddle dooo....just add a last couple o' bits over here....and here we go....you've guessed it right? Thats right, it's a goal. Not a bad one either, If I say so myself. Whaddya reckon? Kept ya guessing right up until the end eh?"

Thats right, if Dennis Bergkamp were an artist he'd be none other than Rolf Harris. And Dabizas and other unlucky defenders would be the poor kids, bemused as to what on earth was going on until, too late, the finished work was framed and hung. Right at the end they stand there saying "Oh yeah, I can see it now, the trap, the flick, the switch-back, the chip, the volley, when you put them all together it all comes clear..." Though Dennis's artwork is far far grander than Rolf and his didgeridoo could ever manage it's the way he keeps you guessing, right up to the bitter end, that is truly his mark of genius.

Dr Headgear

Well, it's like this see...

I left it one the bus / the dog ate it / I really DID do it but blah blah blah...

No, time to come clean Dr Headgear. The Villa match I was ill with a very nasty lurgy ideed. I really didn't know that the whole body could shiver like that, it felt like even my lower intestine was shivering. On the plus side, four days without food has left me a little slimmer. Strongarm was specially commissioned to blog the Villa game, but as you can see, the lazy bugger hasn't bothered. Oh what on earth will our loyal readership (thats you Strongarm) think of this terrible treatment of them? Oh well.

Strongarm:I did, honest, I did. My computer then developed a mother of a crash which involved a new window opening every 3 secs until I pulled the plug. Some might say the computer pulled the plug on my poor effort. We won 2-1 and Bob lobbed the slob.The crux was that brilliant penalty save by Seaman...a Sampadorian arm flung skywards to deflect the ball to safety....

Then there was the guided tour round an empty stadium somewhere in Turin. Well if even Arsene Wenger says it was a "non-match" then I sure as hell cant be bothered to tell you all about it. Freddie was about the only good thing about it, that and Ashley Cole's rturn. A match where no-one else seemed to turn up. Our fate was out of our hands and Deportivo rolled over for leverkusen to tickle them on the tummy, so our result was unimportant. The way the game was (n't) played was entirely depressing though.

Normal service will now resume, both from the Copenhagn Chronicle and hopefully from Arsenal.

Dr Headgear.

Never ever...repeat NEVER EVER change anything after an Arsenal victory. This includes underwear, girlfriends, bedsheets.....any habits or routines.

Yesterday was the day the Doc foolishly decided to invite me to his place to watch the game. At first I hesitated; we've done alright so far. Why change anything?But change I did: No Arsenal shirt and in a new location. It was asking for trouble.

Doc could sense the vibes as I walked in armed with a six pack. We both perched on the edge of the sofa as the inevitable happened...had I turned down the offer,would we have won? Would that Bergkamp juggling have earned more acclaim? Would Henry's penalty have bulged the net?

The unsuperstitious among you will say we were beaten by a better team...but what rituals did you break yesterday? Perhaps you are equally to blame!

Dr Headgear says:
Strongarm, don't blame yourself. No point in doing other peoples work for them. Lets face it, whatever rituals anyone else broke it was all your fault, you alone must shoulder the blame.

A great match though, Deportivos passing and movement was beautiful. Unfortunately for us their marking and tactics were also pretty good. But it could all have been so different....

Well its out of our hands now, we have to hope for Deportivo to get a result against Leverkusen. Luckily for us they need at least a draw to guarantee topping the group, so there is still something for them to play for.

"Neighbours, everybody needs good neighbours" as the theme tune to an Australian soap goes...at the moment our neighbours aren't very good. Is this a time when "neighbours become good friends"......?

Sunday's sporting debacle on a pitch resembling a pig sty brought out the worst in Strongarm. Vengeful cackling, hoots of derision, guffaws of delight. The initial non-sendings off of "Deano" and "Sir Les" were followed up by a 4 goal thrashing, a coin throwing incident, camera panning of empty seats and general mediocrity. There's every excuse for big time piss taking.

But urine extraction on a large scale seems unnecessary these days. What is the point in inflicting more pain ? The performance of the Spurs side in the Worthington Cup Final and the Chelsea game must be more than any self respecting masochistic spud can take !

Brothers now is the time to show compassion for our inbred N.London cousins and offer a helping hand, a listening lughole and a virtuous voice in this, their hour of need. Gloat ye not in the valley of temptation, but be tolerant and understanding. Underneath those foul beer stained shirts they are, after all, human.

Here endeth the lesson.... Brother Strongarm.

PS Nothing will drive them more bananas, I guarantee !!!

Before this match Bobby Robson (who needs to learn how to lose) said he thought both teams wanted to go to Wembley. Luckily for the neutral spectators both teams clearly wanted to go to Cardiff instead, and set about playing some fast cup football. Our team looked a little strange though, with Pires, DB10 and Seaman rested for Tuesdays CL tie against Deportivo. In came Kanu, Edu and Wright to replace them. A little worrying, but the boss knows best and lets face it, with a win against the Spaniards seeing us through to a CL quarter final we all knew it would happen. Daft time for a kick-off as well. Teams playing in the CL are guaranteed 72 hrs rest before they play, the BBC were generous enough to give us 72 hrs and 20 odd minutes. How nice of them.

The match was on live on Danish TV - so my 4 year old son got to stay up and watch it with me. He's seen too many goal clip vids though, and the full 90 minutes is a bit much for him to concentrate through, especially with his little sis running round causing trouble. He's been to a couple of matches at Highbury as well, but that's something else, he really gets into that, the noise and the spectacle fascinate him.

The barcodes were all over us, with trademark long balls into the box and high crosses the norm. Steps and Campbell dealt with just about everything that was thrown at them, though the barcodes hit the bar and forced Dixon to clear off the line. Our passing was looking OK, though not the pure magic we've been getting used to recently. Edu was looking pretty good, and was obviously pretty pleased with his goal. Looked a bit nippy to be whipping his shirt off like that though, with our luck he'll get pneumonia from it. Wiltord ran his arse off, again, and it was his cross that Edu sidefooted in. Wiltord is really growing on me. I've never been one of his knockers, but his price tag has always left me feeling we should be getting a little more out of him. But the last couple of months have been phenomenal.

Strongarm interjects : "I had my 3 year old daughter togged up in her 1971 shirt. She was impressed that 10 players and daddy were "like me"....Kanu certainly was anyway!!! Edu scored and I scared the living daylights out of my kid. She jumped sky high, but recovered to shout " goal" and give Daddy a high 5."

The second half continued as the first had left off, Newcastle possession, and those high balls again. The Stepanovs slips, Shearer heads on and Robert blasts it past Wright. Oh well, it had looked like coming for a while. Pires and Bergkamp came on for Edu and Freddie (just back from injury and looking a little off the pace) but failed to make much of a difference - it looked like they were ready for some quick crisp pass and run moves while everybody else was completely shagged, especially Wiltord.

1-1 and we should be happier with the draw than Newcastle. Sure we get to cram another match into the fixture list, but this time we'll be at home. And it also means one of Thierry's three suspended matches will be the replay. The first was, obviously, this match. Thank god for that, 'cos Kanu really didn't look up to much. As someone on AWIMB pointed out: he's not a shit player, but he had a shit match. It was really shit.

After the game it's off out to Charlie's Bar to watch Strongarm drool over the barmaid again. I have a feeling he's going to develop an in depth knowledge of beer quite quickly. Especially beer he can get served to him by a raven haired blue eyed beauty like her...

Strongarm ejaculating (in the verbal sense...) " Raven-haired beauty ? I'm just keeping abreast of developments in the world of real ale....Just interested in the jugs of beer coming my way...etc etc etc...Football training suffered again the next day although I did manage some mazy runs..none of them with the ball however...only 3 weeks before the season starts and all my promises of a winter of hard training have disappeared down a barmaid's cleavage !!!"

Massive hangover the next morning, and just my luck, I've got to look after both the kids as the girlfriend is off out to her cousins birthday breakfast party. I ask you, what sort of evil sadist holds a birthday party at 9 am on a Sunday morning? It's so twisted it's not even funny. To make matters worse it was up in Helsingør (the setting for Hamlet, though entirely unremarkable in all other matters, try and imagine Shakespeare setting plays in, er, Dover, get the picture? ) which is about an hour away on the train. Well, at least I didn't have to go (I put my foot down on that one).

The afternoon is spent taking kiddo out to see Brøndby (no, I'm not a fan, a mate of mine takes his kid and they like to go together). While you can get a ticket for 80kr (about 6 or 7 quid) you might not want to bother. They're top of the league by 6 points or so but the 3 times I've been they've been utter shite. This was the first match I saw them score in. They were playing a mid table team (Viborg for those into Danish footie) who scored first, gave away a penalty and got a red card after 23 mins and they still only ended up with a draw. The jeering off the pitch was vicious at half time. People were leaving in droves ten minutes from the end - not altogether surprising when your team are 2-1 down to a team that's been playing with 10 men since halfway through the first half, though I never leave early myself. Might miss a last minute equaliser. They did. I have to say, I felt really sorry for the Viborg players, they'd worked bloody hard. Five of them collapsed like they'd been shot when the ball went in. Unfortunately I know the feeling all too well (from the fans perspective, you won't catch me running around chasing a pigs bladder, it's daft and not the sort of thing grown men ought to be doing).

Well anyway, take my word for it, Brøndby were shit. I doubt I'll be invited to go along next time, I seem to be a jinx. Knew it had to be my fault somehow...

I was slightly warmed by the result from Shit Fart Lane. No, not the 4-0 thrashing by Chelzio, we all expected that, but by the news that they didn't manage to sell out the stadium for an FA Cup quarter final against London rivals. Big club my Arse. Where's the famous fan-base now then? Well recently they've been trying to convince us that TV viewing figures give a good account of the size of the club, so maybe they were all at home watching it on the box? So just for the straw clutching scum: Newcastle V Arsenal quarter final had more viewers than the Worthless final. So there. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. Oh yes, your seasons over in March again. You've got your T*ttenham back.

Strongarm here....there's just no rest for the incontinent of heart. A nervy Derby game followed by the interminably long wait for the Heathrow airport debacle and another trip to the pub with Headgear's thuggish mates coming up on Saturday.Hopefully they'll have the balsa wood chairs and the plastic tankards out for the occasion!

Henry banned for three games ? Well bless my soul what a surprise. My initial moral indignation turned to an ambivalent "fuck 'em" type gallic shrug and an inner belief that big things are forming ( No Headgear - Not a toilet pun)

So more clenching and unclenching of the metaphorical buttocks in store...this has been a fantastic season. Let's hope it leaves us feeling flushed with success..........

So three points from Derby in a tense game, with Fegusmoan pulling his Darth Vader mind tricks out of the bag to get Derby stoked for the game. Nice one Sir Taggart, we took three points anyyway.

Well the match wasn't televised outside Holland, so being the loyal cyber-Gooner that I am I settled down to listen to the webcast and chat with the Gooners from AWIMB.

Quick roll-call of the chatroom revelaed all the usual suspects. The mad Yanks were there; "GO! GO! GUNNERS!" as were the buggers listening to the radio (who get the match with no time-lag and say things like "FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" to get you crapping your pants for a minute or so until you hear that it was just a throw-in). We even had a visit from a rather confused young Dutchman, who seemed to think that as Sp*rs are renowned as a "Jewish" team we'd all be sympathetic to his caps-lock fixated nazi outbursts. He didn't seem interested to hear that our most influential board members and many of our fans are also of the faith. Oh well, it takes all sorts, though some of those sorts should be taken away and locked up in a very dark and damp place.

Strongarm was also present, of course. The tension proved too much for him, and further to last weeks revelation of his Weakbladder we now also know he has a Loosesphincter. Halfway through the match he innformed us that he "couldn't unclench his buttocks". Sligtly more information than we really needed, as was the "unclenching now: oh dear" post after the game.

Truth be told the game was a bit too much for most of us. After the supreme football and comfortable wins of the last three games (Fulham, Leverkusen and the Barcodes) we were all hoping for a good old fashioned steamrollering of a low in the table team. But it just wasn't to be, despite dominating possession and creating chances we couldn't find the net. (Great cliche that, just turn on your computer, double click the Explorer icon and hope you've got a modem...). Their keeper was playing a blinder (why do keepers always do that against us - I have a theory, but as it involves football tactics I won't share it here - can't be having with football talk on a rambling bullshit blog, can we?). TH and Wiltord were both missing chances, as were everyone else from the crackling sound of the webcast.

Then, sometime in the middle of the 2nd ½ Bergkamp feeds Pires and GOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLL! is pronounced by the radio listeners. All of us listening to the webcast can't work out who scored as we're too deep into cyber-Gooner internet chatroom love-in orgy orgasm mode.

Three points, that'll do nicely, SAY WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE, WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE!

At least for a day. The Sp'rs did what Sp'rs do best, crumble to dust during a football match, which wouldn't be any bad thing but for the fact they were playing ManUre at Old Trafford and ANYONE taking points from them is a good thing right now. Still we have a game in hand.

So perhaps I should mention Wednesdays other news - the unremitting stitch-up of Arsenal by refs / the media / the FA. Bowing to Sir Fungusbottom's well timed but underhand pressure they banned TH14 for shouting at the ref (Graham P*ll - a nasty "little hitler" (© Ian Wright) who has admitted sending players off harshly to gain a reputation) after he completely screwed up the Newcastle home match in December. Well bloody done. He didn't touch him and didn't swear. Ginola got a 2 match ban for slapping a linesman, Carragher 3 for throwing a coin innto the crowd and Roy Keane absolutely nothing for assulting THREE West Ham players in the course of a single match.

So thats a classic "mind game" from old red-cheeks is it? I call it shamefull behaviour - but you can read someone else saying moe or less the same thing (but far far better) here: From The Terrace article

Well everyone's out to get us and ManUre are running scared. Time to stick together and pull as a team. Traditionally this is where we've done our best. All we need now is a two point deduction for kicking seven shades of shit out of ManUre at Old Trafford and we're virtualy guaranteed the title.

Over and out: Dr Headgear

The sharp eyed amongst you (thats you Strongarm - no-one else reads this) may have noticed a few changes. Basically I've added a script that opens & closes entries. Saves on page space. Nice eh?

Five to four I get into the chatroom, get the match broadcast from Arsenal.com and am just settling down to listen to the latest Big Match in our season of Big Matches. The kids are happily playing in the living room, it's all systems go. Except it isn't. The chat room is empty, and the broadcast is repeating the midweek Bayer game.

My own fault for not paying attention. The 6:30 (Danish time) kick-off is a bit of a bastard - coinciding with the hour long bedtime fight with the kids. So 7:15 I get into the chatroom, get the broadcast, 2-0 up and apparently Dennis has scored something that caused spontaneous ejaculation in football fans the world over.

Quick decision: RUN TO THE PUB AT ½ TIME!

The Southern Cross is heaving, I'd forgotten how crowded it gets on weekends. Barcodes are singing lots of unintelligible songs, Gooners are laughing at them, I get a pint and manage to find a seat next to James, an Oirish Gooner. Can't see Strongarm, but thats because he's behind me, which had I known would have caused me some nervous tension. He's a shifty character and it's best to keep him in sight.

Strongarm : Shifty indeed! My plan of hiding behind the imposing figure of Irish James, fails as Headgear spots me.The amiable banter and jovial atmosphere between the two sets of fans seems to mysteriously alter from that moment on...Headgear describes the incident perfectly

The Arse seem to be quietly closing the match down. I get to see Oleg force a save with a shot that would do credit to DB10 himself. Stepanovs is blocking everything - including a fantastic last ditch tackle that would surely hav been a goal, and is met with loud choruses of "IGORS, IGORS". I'm really pleased for him, his Arsenal debut (boxing day 2000, 6-1 V Leicester - Igors came close to scoring, Ljungberg put it in when it came back from the woodwork) was my sons Highbury debut and we sot of adopted him for a while.

Well everything is going well for a while when suddenly one of those idiotic bar-fights started. The Barcode - Gooner tension had been all too much for some of the more inebriated. What was most idiotic about it was all the people trying to calm everything down. It was a huge melee of people holding other people back, shouting at people to calm down, telling people to sit down (whilst standing up) etc. etc. etc. I don't think a single punch was thrown, though there was a fair amount of falling over and beer getting spilled. At the height of it all someone was offering a barstool as a weapon - happily no-one took it. It was like the infamous "Scousers" sketch, just with far more participants.

So I missed yet more of the match, some of us tried to keep watching, but there's always the outside possibility of getting accidentaly glassed, so best not to take your eyes off the "action".

After the match James manages to distract me while they show DB10 in Sublime motion, so I miss the goal again. James - you are a grade A bastard.

Strongarm doesn't know Charlie's Bar (tucked away on Pilestræde, behind Illums) so I take him down there with me for a decent pint. Somewhat shockingly, Strongarm reveals an incredible lack of knowledge on the subject of beer. This confirms my suspicions that he is, in fact, a shandy drinker. An education ensues...

Strongarm : I had promised to come home immediately after the game...the heady atmosphere and the incredible game saw me following Headgear to sample some ale.I considered bluffing my way through and coming across as a real ale aficionado. Unusually for me, I decided to come clean and shock the Doc with my appalling ignorance.

We start with a pint of Spitfire - a nice Kentish ale, characteristically hoppy, though not overly bitter, very well balanced. Then it's London Pride - I always think of it as an Arsenal pint, and like Arsenal it's a class apart. Then, SHOCK HORROR, Strongarm confesses to not having drunk wheatbeer, so a nice crisp pint of Prinzregent Luitold. Strongarm is impressed and blabbers almost incoherently about what a fantastic beer it is. Gary (a Happy Hammer, but nobody's perfect) winds me up by going on and on about all the great beer he was drinking last week in Germany. Bastard.

The loudest woman in the world leaves the bar, deafening me on the way out, and the hubub feels like tranquility. A group of large men with big chins (they'd put Jimmy Hill too shame, they really would) amuses us for a while. They seem to be Ozzy Osborne fans. For some reason we are talking about golf (a crap sport) instead of curling (a fantastic sport) I make a terrible and badly pronounced Dansih pun involving putters and breasts and receive strange looks from a woman that will go home and sleep with one of the large chinned men.

Strongarm:I'm enjoying myself immensely and the fact that the barmaid is probably the most beautiful woman I have ever seen certainly helps...Headgear seems to have forgotten this (although the drool stains on his Arsenal shirt will bear testimony; stains that bore an uncanny resemblance to those sported by none less than PV4 himself!)...it was not the alcohol she was a stunner. Disturbing though was the presence of a glass adjacent to the toilet that seemed to be magically filling up upon each trip to drain the snake.

Good company. Good night out.

I offer to continue Strongarms ale education, but Weakbladder has had enough. I round off with a Westmaller Dubbel - Belgian beer brewed by trappist monks. We make off into the night, hoping insanely that Derby could scrape a draw from ManUre (they did - in fact they were cheated of an injury time winner) and round up a fantastic Gooner week.

IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS! IGORS!

Postcript: I don't know how but I managed to avoid a hangover on Sunday morning. Result!

Strongarm: I tiptoed in only to find my girlfriend and her mate swirling around to the disco sounds of the 70's with the stereo pumping. Apparently the neighbours had been round to complain.In my inebriated state I thought it appropriate to open our front door and bawl "wan*er" up the stairs...mmmm, trouble ahead methinks. Unlike Headgear I suffered the next day...football training was a fiasco...I had quite a few Dabizas moments!!!

Well here it is - I've sorted some styling, fiddled the background, mucked it about quite a lot and this is what it looks like. A vast improvement on the available template, but in need of a little more work. So the big question - will I ever write any content for it? Who knows. I'ts fun to fiddle with but can I really be arsed to scribble down my inane ramblings and publish them here? What this site needs is an assistent editor. Someone who already spends too much time on the net, who can ramble with the best of them but has a reasonable grasp of the English language, someone based in Copenhagen, somone who has The Gunners close to his heart... Who could it be? Any offers Strongarm George?

So this is blogging eh? What a wonderful world we live in. If I can get this together I'm going to keep a Copenhagen Arsenal blog going. It's a vibrant thriving community, Copenhagen Gooners, and it's here the laffs and exploits will be chronicled.