Arsene Wenger's mob of tricky footballing urchins picked Liverpool pockets in North London last night, in what was far from a victimless crime.
Sources have confirmed the Gunners are now officially 'back in the title race' after the 1-0 theft, while Rafa's Reds are now setting a course for the Championship.
Of course it's not quite as bad as that for Stevie Gee and his one-man army, but Liverpool are becoming less relevant by the week.
At the Emirates they created plenty of chances, but it's just not possible for Stevie to get on the end of his own passes. If he could, Liverpool would never lose.
Rafa's P45 comes at quite a price, but the way things are going Liverpool could be offering him the Beatles' back catalogue, Cilla Black and Kenny Dalglish to leave by the end of the season.
Meanwhile, football's fickle finger of fate is today stroking the beard Arsene Wenger should always be sporting, after a night that saw his team victorous and rumours of his best player exiting stage left rubbished.
Me and the boys have decided Wenger is the Fagin of football. And here's why.
Not only does he search out the best young talent, groom it, and send it out to steal from the rich. But when he's not grooming, he's counting his - and the club's - money.
If Wenger is Fagin, then William Gallas is his artful dodger and Cesc Fabregas is Oliver. The bright-eyed, pitch-perfect star was alway destined for bigger things, but Wenger will do everything in his power to retain his services.
But where there's an Oliver, there's always a Nancy. And in this case Nancy could yet turn out to be Pep Guardiola, a man so infuriating good looking and talented he could pull off a shabby red dress and beat up Bill Sykes wearing it.
Barcelona denied reports that Fabregas already has a verbal agreement with the club yesterday. But they didn't deny he was going. Unless Fagin can deliver some serious silverware, it's surely only a matter of time.
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Nag's Head won 8-2 on Sunday, in a match that ended in a full-scale ruck after their left-back asked Cling-on if his mum had been with John Terry.
They call him Cling-on on account of the lumps on his forehand, which may or may not have been caused through years of headbutting people in nightclubs.
The outcome was rather predictable. And we're now looking for a new goalkeeper for the rest of the season.
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