Arsenal’s "Secret Santa" presents

I love Christmas and recently recorded the Goonersphere Christmas Special. Sadly my co-host and I were really pressed for time and were unable to book guests for the only time we were both available to record the Christmas Special.

Instead, we had a few silly exchanges and threw together a few Christmas themed sketches for our podcast.

One of the sketches was an Arsenal Secret Santa gift exchange in the form of a poem. I thought I would share it in written form as well. Enjoy!

Twas the night before Christmas, when at Highbury House,Arsenal were chasing the title with Mancs, Chavs & Scouse.The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,He said don’t call me chimney, please call me Per.

The Gunners were laughing and sharing some banter,Whilst opening presents from each Secret Santa.Bendtner in the corner making bracelets and crap,Mertesacker threatening to give Mesut a slap.

Santi was lively, all smiles and chatter,Our diminutive maestro, far cheaper than Mata.He opened his present amid laughs, cheers and hoots,Because someone had bought him retro platform boots.

Arteta unwrapped and gave out a yell,“Very funny you bastards but I have enough gel”.He put some on, 10 times more than directed,Solemnly nodded, his lego hair perfected.

The accurate Mesut opened his with a flick,“Vot is this” he said “Are you taking ze mick”.It’s a jar opener Mesut, you use it for twisting,It’s for helping you find more ways of assisting.

Jack picked up his, said “I can’t wait to open this”,“20 benson and hedges are you cunts taking the piss”.“If I had a knife, you know that I’d cut ya”,“‘cos you all know I prefer Lambert and Butler”.

Mathieu got business cards bearing his name,A reminder not to mess with the man called The Flame.He was to take them to matches and distribute plenty,They carried the warning to avoid number 20.

Laurent tore at the paper with flourish and passion,“What is zis rubbish, zis crime against fashion?”.It’s a new pair of shorts and you shouldn’t knock it,Especially when it’s made from 400 pockets.

Diaby came in, bandages swathed round his head,It was clear to the rest he had been to the med.He said, sorry lads, I couldn’t heal any faster,But it was hardly worth it for this crutch and this plaster.

Szczesny unwrapped a great gift of delight,A new set of bed linen, all dazzling and white.He said, thank you guys, this is a wonderful treat,you know there’s nothing I love, more than a clean sheet.

Giroud opened his present, said lads I’m confused,Why is my likeness all battered and bruised?It’s a mask for you Olly, to make you less pretty,You’re far too handsome, you make us look shitty.

Wenger came down and called for more rest,Said, sleep now lads, we want to be at our best.A wink of his eye and a nod of his head,Soon saw the Gunners climb into bed.

Ramsey called out, what about your present boss,Get me some points, I just don’t want a loss.Presents mean nothing, only one thing is vital,3 points in each game, an assault on the title.

Play as you can, keep it tight at the back,Keep winning games, you’re on the right track.He wished them all well as he turned out the light,“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”