Mr O.

Thorburn Second floor social hub 8 Wellington Square Lenton Nottingham NG7 1NG

17 January 2012 Dear Mr Thorburn, I anticipate that you are salivating at the prospect of reading this one thousand word Fifa apology. You must know this is written with no hard feelings for its the least I can do to recompense for my substandard previous attempts. For those reading who were not lucky enough to witness the momentous feat allow me to summarise the crucial match facts.

Arsenal

(played by yourself) 6

Manchester City

(played by myself) 1

As the above score illustrates I buckled under your force majeure. I am seldom humble in defeat but on this occasion permit me to begin with accreditation of the highest order. You are well aware that I have been a long-time admirer of your stalwart defence, ingenuity in the midfield and attacking flare in the final third. For me there is no shame to lose such an astute adversary. The game was played on a typically lackadaisical afternoon at WS headquarters, a cool breeze streaked in through the open door as Lentons most industrious chimney, Thomas Hutton, rolled up another smoke. I recall you slumping down the steep stairs, haggard from a taxing day of downloading entire album catalogues of artists that you dont really even like. Weary, you rested your frame on the coarse black sofa. It was then that you indifferently proposed a match should be played between us, arrogantly and somewhat unsuspectingly I obliged your request, blissfully unaware of the enduring punishment that beckoned. You may or may not be aware but when we acquainted on that afternoon, I was reeling from the effects of a sunrise start to my day in order to attempt last minute politics revision. This is not a factor that should be entirely overlooked however; it should not detract from such a ceremonious victory. The teams were selected by our own accord. I had decided to break the Chelsea mould and experiment, as cries of youre boring and youre shit by the Camel tarnished a string of good, albeit one dimensional, performances. You remained liberal as always with your team choice and chose to select a lower rated team, suggesting that you had been confident of the drubbing right from the off. My team sheet included some of footballs finest stars which serves to further amplify the glory of your victory. A star studied line up including the

likes of Samir Nasri, David Silva, Edin Dzeko, Sergio Aguero and Carlos Tevez but this provided insufficient resistance to Arsenals artistry in attack. Below we can see the price of each Arsenal player upon purchase (prince in Million): Szczsny (free), Sagna (6), Mertesacker (10), Vermaelen (10), Gibbs (free), Gervinho (10), Arteta (10), Song (10), Wilshere (free), Walcott (9.1) and Van Persie (2.75) This culminates to a total expenditure of 67.85 million for the first XI. This contrasts with the 87 million pounds spent on Citys strikers alone. We can derive three statements from this empirical observation; money doesnt pay, Arsene does know best and you, sir, make the most of your means. The game began in a subdued fashion with a deadlock sustained until the 30 minute mark with the game resting at score all. A menacing attacking run by Walcott taunted Clichy at left back, making him rue the day he waved goodbye to the Emirate faithful. Out of form Walcott managed a moment of brilliance, beating Clichy with a mesmerising step over which left the former Arsenal man for dead. Although in typical Arsenal fashion, no one was waiting for the in swinging cross, but the move provided a catalyst for the Gooners, instilling a newfound vigour that subsequently led to a war of attrition, eroding my resistance with each wave of attack, each more potent than the last. At half time I was depleted, 45 minutes later defeated. The score lay precariously places on the 90 minute mark at 5-1. Schadenfreude took over the lounge with all those present urging the goal into Harts net, praying for a last minute goal. A nervy sequence of passes in defence ensued but the ball was swiftly intercepted by your pressing midfield, persevering even in the 90th minute with the game already in the bag. A jink to the left, past one, spins another... still going, into the box cuts inside and shoots, time stand still as the ball trickles ever so close to the keepers outstretched hand. WHOOSH! The ball nestles into the back of the net, victory is attained and humiliation dispatched. The watching faithful cheer in elation, the promised thousand world apology has been secured and the send to address reads your name. Beyond this point I feel it would be a travesty to justice to attempt to describe the flurry of goals that followed. My lexicon is inept to adequately recount the splendour of your finish, after finish, after finish. Lest it be said that all those present were entreated to an exhibition of astounding quality. My Man of the Match would have to be Alex Song who played a pivotal role as the rock of Arsenals midfield but also unsparingly sprayed his creative juices all over the Etihad stadium. Song had a troubled childhood losing his

father but was raised by Cameroon footballing sensation Rigobert Song who influenced Songs early desire to play football. Im convinced that this challenging upbringing imbued grit, determination and perseverance in him which can be seen from the passion that he plays with. Szczsny also deserves a mention who was parsimonious in goal, not even giving an inch. In my meagre defence I should point out that I have been close to beating you by a five goal margin twice the in the last week which does not in any way make up for the aforementioned loss. In future I will ensure not to be so hasty to accept a battle from you. For now though please accept my sincerest acknowledgement of defeat, A thousand words and a thousand apologies, Sorry for wasting your time Your servile opponent, Mukarrum Iqbal