The Pain, Boss, The Pain

So, once again Sam and his boys have got the points. I'm so nonplussed by the whole thing I don't know how I feel and how to react.

The big man in one tiny corner of me says hold your hands up and praise Bolton for another job well done. It may not be pretty but if you were managing them that's exactly how you would get them to play. You have to have a grudging respect for them, although I'm still wondering why the other big sides don't have the same degree of difficulty with them.

The angry, frustrated, me wants to know why so many players just didn't give their all. Flamini and Freddie appear to be the focal points at which most disparaging comments are being aimed. Eboue and Adebayor need to look at their contributions in my opinion. I'll forgive Kolo an off-day, it's been a very long time since his last.

The long-suffering Gooner in me is trying to remain calm. Around the middle of the last five decades we have slipped into various stages of disrepair. I think we have dined on caviar for so long we don't realise we currently have a mixed platter before us that is still being refined by monsieur le chef.

Most of all though it just plain damn hurts that we clearly will not contest the one prize that says after thirty-eight matches you are the cream of the crop. It's like a kick in the solar plexus that won't go away. We can beat Manchester United at Old Trafford but we cannot cope with dear old Bolton. Where is that bottle, I'm off to oblivion for a day or two!