Superman IV: The quest for the Beast

Today’s guest writer gives us an alternative perspective on the game against Portsmouth, as David James gives us his thoughts.

The first thing I noticed when I got on the pitch at Ashburton Grove was that Cesc had a new haircut. Nice simple crop. Not as nice as that mullet he used to have. As I was saying to Lois Lane back at the Chronicle offices just the other day, those Arsenal boys are just not being bold enough in their styling. Their performance lack body and the team don’t always gel or even mousse.

I met the boys off the coach at the stadium after arriving late at an emergency back in Metropolis – some ex-Arsenal players had escaped from the old people’s home and were causing havoc. I had to get them back behind bars before they caused themselves some harm, or before the gaffer Harry Redknapp signed them up – he can’t resist an old gooner – Winterburn, Wright, Adams, Campbell, Kanu, Hartson – its as close as he’ll get to managing them.

The game went well. I used my powers to help the team to a two goal lead, by blinding the Arsenal defence with the shine from my hair at the crucial moment. Then things began to change when Abedayor came on with some Kryptonite polish on his boots. Two nil up went to two two, and we would have lost as well had I not flashed a picture of a topless pole dancer at van Persie just as he took his shot.

After the game I used my x-ray vision to tell if Pedro Mendes had any shower gel left in his bottle, he did, but he still didn’t take a shower the dirty stinky man.

Anyway, here’s to peace, justice and the American way. And up the Pompey, or up wherever I might be playing in January when the new Chairman’s cheques all clear.

See you in the Bergkamp Gallery (“Let’s hope fucking not!” – theboyloizou).

Clark Kent  David James

Wigan must be crushed like flies

Hi to all you guys from the Bergkamp Gallery here. It is mad Jens Lehmann here giving you my view from behind.

It will not be enough, meine freunde, for us to beat Wigan this evening. No we must roll our mighty team bus into the centre of Wigan. We must not look to wave to any Wiganny infidels to either the left or right of our bus. We must occupy our dressing room and use our superior Arsenal minds to plan and calculate a way to crush Wigan into submission. Their defeat will be a victory for history, for tradition and for the Arsenal.

We must be hungrier than Frank Lampard. More powerful than the Beast sprinting towards a plateful of offal. And more clinincal in execution than one of Abramovich’s “business managers” in Russia. And then the uberArsenal will rise from the ashen waste lands of Wigan with the smell of victory fresh in our nostrils.

Gekommen auf Sie Rottöne. Gekommen auf Sie Rottöne. Gekommen auf Sie Rottöne

See you in the Bergkamp Gallery. Auf Wiedersehen!

Mad Jens

Ashley Cole…Twat or arsehole…you decide.

Today’s guest writer, Cesc Fabregas, talks about Chelsea, Ashley and Wiganny…

Hola residentes de la galería de Bergkamp. Its Cesc here with my thoughts on the week so far.

It is a relief to qualify for the knockout stages of the Champions League. The draw in Porto was not a good game, but it was enough. The real quality teams come in the knockout stages and its good coming up to Christmas with something to look forward to apart from all those great presents (please let me get an iPod oh please please).

The best thing about qualification though is all those evening kick offs and going to bed late and Dad can’t say anything like he did when he caught me playing Pro-Evolution at TEN O’CLOCK..on a school, I mean training night too. Odio, del dios I mis padres!

The Chelsea game was a better one than the Porto one. Although I did have to see that nasty boy Ashley again. He’s not my friend anymore. He’s a cheater and said horrid things behind my back and then told everyone in a book that no-one wants to read (Tee hee, you are so funny Jens. You ARE my friend!!!). He says he doesn’t know anything about me but that’s not true because he came round my house and he played with my Scalectrix and I let him use my special James Bond Aston Martin. I even let him take my puppies for a walk – ooh I miss those puppies after what naughty Julio did. But he did say sorry and bought me some sweets, so thats OK!

Anyway I didn’t throw any pizza, because Mum says that that’s a waste of food especially when there are starving children in the world, and I would have to go straight to my room. But I don’t like anchovies. Yuk they are fish and smelly and I just threw them off my pizza. Ashley always said he liked the smell of fish.

Next we have Wigan on wednesday. Another evening kick off and a late night for me (YES!! – see Dad I can stay up late and still get Mr Wenger’s tactical homework in on time, I told you). If we play like we did against Chelsea we can win. I feel much safer in midfield with Hleb and Gilberto beside me, playing with Julio makes me sad for my poor puppies

Anyway, that’s all from me ‘cos my Dad is coming upstairs and he doesn’t like me spending too long on the computer ‘cos its bad for my eyes.

Adiós y véale en el gellery de Bergkamp!