Title Winners! Crystal Ball Foresees Arsenal Future....

I've had many exploits in my short time on this earth. Many of which cannot be aired via the world wide web - not least without the proper certification. These proclivities have simultaneously darkened my soul and shamed my former reputation. These nefarious tales will no doubt be released when my hamwich-fuelled body is cold to the touch and residing in a plot known only to Government scientists.

This isn't the time to recollect on these moral-rendering acts and despicable times though. One of these moments in my past though shines out with its relevance however.  This glimmering shard in time will now be recounted to you, you lucky people. So find ample refreshment around the campfire in my mind, ignore the gibbons adorned with negligee and start toasting your mellows of marshness. It's story-time.

In my travels alongside the native tribes of Papua New Guinea, whilst trying to persuade the Chief of the aforementioned clan that the meat on my bones was as far removed from succulent as you could hope to imagine - I struck up a bond with the caste's shaman. 

This man - with a spectacular necklace borne from bones originating from the smallest rodent to what resembled a human femur - was of an unassuming frame but an aura of respect emanated from him. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Once rudimentary pleasantries were exchanged (apparently tickling the scrote of a Clan's Shaman is considered the customary. They sure did laugh though.) we soon formed a rapport. He taught me how to involve myself with conversation and soon - after each days trekking and setting up camp - we sat each night and he would share great stories of his work and thoughts. These tales pushed the boundaries of my thoughts on the way the world works. I reserved judgment on these musings as they seemed so outlandish at the time. One night though - after many weeks of his tutelage and yarns - we were toasting our usual fare of lemur balls on the campfire when he revealed to me his predictions on the future. Not only this though, it was the future of my first love and its many competitors. It was all about Arsenal.

Arsenal's Future

The Shaman - who I will refer to as Bill - described to me in great detail about Arsenal's endeavours over the next twenty or so years. We will experience great success domestically and also on the European stage, finally claiming our inaugral European Cup, with Theo and Mesut taking centre stage. The League title will be won on numerous occasions - but only after struggles from the oil-rich. There was no replacement for Wenger - we simply waited until his body could no more demand the rigours of the job and we detached his brain and placed it in a tank full of saline solution. 

Bill

Usmanov will lose his patience with waiting for a place on the board and withdraw his shares to fund building a club to replace us. Bill's vision only went so far as to say this ramshackle outfit that Alisher was bankrolling still resided in the EvoStik Southern League 3 but did however put Spurs out of the Cup. 

Chelsea's Future

In the short term, Chelsea would prosper. Bill went on to say that under Jose and his pragmatic approach - they would continue to mix with the elite. After Jose leaves to further his vision of a 100ft effigy of himself gilded with the finest jewels and gold and place it atop the Burj Khalifa - Chelsea would slump a little. Roman Abramovich - feeling the pinch after season upon season of covering debt and spending splurges - chooses to cut back and appoints Barry Chuckle as Manager. This sees the Blues from Kings Road slump a little. Despite Chuckle's heavy spending on stars such as the Krankies to fill the void left in midfield - they find themselves out of European competition.

Chelsea's new midfield 

This is the final straw for Abramovich who ends up selling the club and heading off to enjoy his roubles. Without Roman covering the continual losses made by heavy wage costs and a small stadium - Chelsea end up selling all of their 1st team to cover costs. The youth team perform admirably but the end of his vision shows the club inviting John Terry to be Manager and paying him in Free Passes for enjoying the players' wives......

Spurs' Future

The path for Spurs appears bleak according to Bill. Continual lack of Vitamin D thanks to constant years in Arsenal's shadow renders them unable to expose themselves to direct sunlight and play only in evening kick-offs - which coincides perfectly with their exploits in the Europa League. Due to their insistence for late kick-offs they receive less money from the TV rights and end up having to make stringent cuts to the budget. Levy - now unable to feed his passion for smashing Faberge Eggs upon his manhood - ends up making repeated managerial changes. The revolving door at White Hart Lane swings round from month to month and eventually the poisoned chalice of the spurs hotseat becomes so noxious that Levy is forced to man it himself. This is the final nail in the coffin for the beleaguered club and they suffer the ignominy of relegation. Levy refuses to sell up and piss off despite the rabble of loyal fans demonstrating by chucking bags of shit at him. The last vision Bill received regarding our neighbours was a sponsorship from Vagisil and a win in the F.A Vase Final Vs Altrincham.

Angry Spurs fans meet Levy outside of WHL

Other nuggets of wisdom offered up willingly by Bill?  He did state that United would hover and flirt with the lower reaches of the Premiership for some time and only until they upped their contract offer with the Referees Union would they taste European nights at Old Trafford once more. The Premier League itself would amalgamate with La Liga and the Bundesliga and a golden age of European football would begin - with the varnished corpse of Sepp Blatter at the helm. 

At the end of Bill's recanting, he grew weak. It would seem peering past the veil of time ridded him of whatever vitality the old man once possessed. Before he passed into eternal slumber however - he passed unto me the secret for such a wonderful talent. As I practiced the craft on my travels - I went under the stage name 'Mystic Meg' and dressed in drag - it enabled me to fund a lavish lifestyle blighted by copious meth binges and debauched acts involving bestiality and money-hungry ladies of the night. This eventually weakened my ability to look into the visage of the future but sporadically I will see in my minds eye something I can share with you. Last night was one of those occasions. 

Fans will lose their sh!t over the slightest issue. 

My gift has been shared - no need to thank me. I must now rest as my gift is also a curse. 

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