Murder On The Mourinho Express

Lightning streaked across the transparent roof of the room and the thunder that was akin to sitting next to Zeus if he had flatulence broke the silence. The chandelier that had lit the whole room now lay dark and vacuous. The whole room was plunged into an inky blindness. Murmurs from the now slightly panicked guests who had been left on tenterhooks were being uttered. 

The lights flashed back on. Standing on top of the table was Jose Mourinho, donning a black cape and all black suit. Villainy suited him. At his feet lay a butlers uniform and a latex mask and grey wig. He was the butler.

"BWAHAHAHAHA!!! You fools! Like the pathetic creatures you are, you gather here and question your roles. You try to find weakness when there is no need. You have a club culture where you must place blame. It can never be just an off-day. It has to be Mertesackers pace, it must be a lack of a big holding midfielder, it has got to be a failing in the defence, the attack! HA!!!! You ignorant idiots! There is a reason why your beloved leader has failed to vanquish me. It's simply because I will not hold any scruples dearly! Wenger will not abandon his beautiful plan to get three points. He will try to show the world that playing football will win through. PAH!!! I would abandon my own children for three points! THAT IS THE DIFFERENCE! THAT IS WHY I AM A WINNER!!! THAT IS WHY I AM....."

Jose stopped in the midst of his boasting and preening. He wheeled around to find his nemesis Arsène, looming over him. Toe to toe. Like a ferret caught stealing eggs, he appeared to choke on thin air. Arsène menacingly stood statuesque and then, fully extended his arms, whilst placing his hands on Joses chest. His arms shot out like an ageing piston and Mourinho, arms flailing like a Portuguese windmill, careered backwards. His nefarious black cape whipped around his face - now agape in fright. 

Jose fell backwards, crashing into the plush carpet. Much to his chagrin, the cape was now in his mouth. He spat it out in fury.

"CURSES!!! You've not heard the end of this Arsenal!! I will have my REVEEEEEEENNNNGEEEE!!!!"

He continued to shout the word 'revenge' as he ran out of the room in wracking sobs. The front door of the house slamming closed could be heard in the cavernous dining room and they all watched by the window as Jose quickly jumped into his 1981 Austin Allegro and escaped the scene.

The guests and their host stood in silence, their mouths agape at the scene they had just witnessed. Mesut turned to face Wenger, he looked deeply into the wise eyes of his gaffer and spoke with a soft quiver in his voice "Boss, if ever I had known zat he is driving such a monstrosity I vud never have embraced him after ze match. Forgive me".

Wenger returned Mesut's gaze and nodded his acceptance. Silence fell over the room again as the rest of the guests tried to process what had just happened when a gaudy Nokia-esque jingle emanated from Steve Bould's pocket. The tinny arrangement of Right Said Fred's "I'm too sexy" echoed around the cavernous hall. Per Mertesacker contorted with discomfort as he watched the assistant manager gyrate and hip thrust his way through two verses in a convincing imitation of Richard Fairbrass.

As swiftly as his impromptu dance routine had started and stunned all in his presence he answered the phone with a curt and composed "Hello".

"Steve, it's Tony. I've just seen what happened" a familiar voice resonated down the ancient 3310.

"Tony, where are you? How do you know what is happening?" asked Steve.

"I have a camera in the chandelier, why is not important right now but you need to know that the threat of Jose Mourinho and his Chelsea cohorts still loom large over our landscape. We have spent more money recently and yet we are still falling short. We have apparently moved forward and yet our tactics haven't changed against him since the first game. Does the blame for the defeat actually lie with Wenger and his obsession with playing football the right way?" Tony chuntered without pausing for breath. 

Steve started to stammer an answer when Tony interrupted. "The answer is pretty much yes, Steve".

Tony continued to talk. "Do I blame him for holding those principles highly? That isn't for me to say whether his principles act as an obstacle or not. For every Chelsea game, there are many others where I beam with pride when we carve open another opponent thanks to our wonderful play which is famous throughout Europe."

"I agree" said Bould. "We come from an era where we knew how to see out games and strangle opponents but we can't forget that Arsène's philosophy extended our careers, reinvented our image and has brought great success. It has taken a while but we saw against Chelsea he is willing to adapt his approach but sadly it still wasn't enough. One thing is for sure though. The return leg will be gosh darn interesting. I must dash, Tone, I need to pick these splinters from my arsecheeks."

http://twitter.com/JokmanAFC Tell us what you think! If you agree, or have a different view, please leave a comment in the comments section or why not write a response or your own article on YouWrite?

Think you know Arsenal? Test your Arsenal knowledge on our trivia page and see if you can beat the top score.

Don't forget to like us on Facebook, add us to your G+ circle and follow us on Twitter.