Myth no. 3: The title race

I would love to have seen a camera view on Sir Alex Ferguson as the ever-oafish Emmanuel Eboué senselessly bundled Lucas over, with Dirk Kuyt burying that resultant penalty. Why? Because Fergie will have been absolutely cracking up and choking over his own chewing gum as Kuyt's 100th minute equaliser has banished our title hopes once and for all. And that, mere seconds after we had thought we'd got away with murder, with a penalty of our own courtesy of Robin van Persie looking to have secured an unlikely victory.

But no.

They had just had their treble hopes dashed in the Cup by "noisy neighbours" Man City, but the wily old Scot need not worry about our lot when it comes to the league. Baseless, toothless, clueless.

And as if it wasn't enough already being the token laughing stock of a team up and down the country having fluffed chance after chance to get ourselves into contention with some pathetic showings, Arsène Wenger has even gone another step forward in that respect. Having taken it upon himself to declare the visitors' equaliser as "not a penalty" in an equally incredible performance from the press box, Wenger had clearly not thought this through.

Not a penalty? Give me a break.

And no I am not willing to entertain the simply poxy excuse that Andre Marriner cost us the win with an extra couple of minutes either. It is quite clear that Wenger forgot that we also scored in that elongated period of injury time, following Jamie Carragher's unfortunate injury. Added on following van Persie's celebrations and so on (albeit the fact that Fergie was watching does make it rather ironic), I would much rather focus on the idiotic defending that led to this calamity of all calamities: ranging from giving the ball away cheaply, being unable to keep a clear head and see a game through where we had been crap, to sub Alex Song faffing around in attempting to tackle Liverpool sub Jonjo Shelvey leading to the free kick. To of course, our favourite useless commodity in Eboué, who thought it best to just shove Lucas in the back despite him going absolutely nowhere.

To have Wenger come out with that tripe after the match, as well as offering a lukewarm attempt at suggesting that the players are "jaded", having not played for a whole week and conveniently out of every other competition, is just too much. Way, way too much to take. Too much yet it doesn't rub off anymore, gaffer, it really does not.

The manager is so keen to point out every iota of supposed misfortune every single game, without ever suggesting to have looked at himself and at his squad of bottlers for just ONE minute. Had he done so as soon as the wheels had visibly started coming off the train at Wembley back in late February, he might just have realised that no one is unlucky every single week, and that one cock-up after the next is a matter of some systemic failure. It has become a paranoia, almost. Paranoia on Wenger's behalf, and one that has fully transmitted itself infectiously, in fact, malignantly, to that spiritless squad, his "best ever", apparently (another piece of absolute nonsense).

A poor Premier League season at the top in which we had the ultimate chance time and again to have our say and to rise from the malignant failure that Wenger and his bosses have lumped us all with ever since the costly move to the Emirates (on more than one account), has instead shown us time and again that this is a failing policy akin of a failed state conning its people. You remember the move to Ashburton Grove; that move which was meant to provide us with enough cash to compete with the world's biggest, another lie, by the way. But that's for another day.

And you moan about the penalty and the injury time, boss? Rather than doing that, cursing and cussing about the referee, the weather, leaving your lucky socks in the wash at home and what have you, I would much rather you admitted that this whole idea of being good enough to challenge for honours is far, far away, if not totally out of your, and this squad's reach.

The side has become as predictable as it has become boring, where almost any team with a half-negative mindset and a set of physically strong figures down the middle know what it takes to grab at least a point out of the gift shop that is the Emirates Stadium. We couldn't defend in the past, and now we cannot even attack either, meaning that a slide down the table to third is the much likelier outcome than what is in hindsight, an unrealistic, non-existent shot at the Premier League title.

We have all been duped, and the worrying thing is, the very first victim is Arsène Wenger himself, the very creator of this most terrific con.

I'll say it again: baseless, toothless, clueless. End of.

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