Once again I’m seated high up at the Clock End Tower pondering how the campaign of the mighty kingdom of Arsenalia might pan out.
The Mancunian Mercenaries under Pellegrini the Inca prince with Chilean roots, rule over Britannia as I write. The Scousers control parts of the vassal states in the North West but still owe the Mancunian Mercenaries allegiance like every other province in Britannia.
They have to.
Unable to control the cravings of the cannibalistic beast cum kraken from Uruguay, the kingdom of Catalonia of the Spaniards offered to take the heathen beast off their hands; indeed for token. However, this left them a tad vulnerable hence, their submission to the will of the Mancunians, at least, for now.
The whole of the provinces of Britannia strengthened their armies as the campaign approached and many braced themselves for the inevitable – men would be lost, prisoners would be taken, coffers plundered and, worst of all, their fair maidens ravished by wolves in John Terry and Ryan Gigg-esque clothing. What man would want that?!
And so they strengthened their ranks.
Duke Wenger: My knights buzz-eth with new strength! At last, Arsenalia can take what is rightfully hers – the continent of Britannia. And then, only then can I step down as Duke of Ashburtonshire. Only then shall I lie in mine grave peacefully, knowing that all of Britannia liveth in peace.
Lord Artets: I thank thee and his royal highness for conferring me the title of General of the Ranks, I shall not fail thee; I shall not fail the noblemen and women of Arsenalia.
Duke Wenger: I know-eth that thou shalt keep thy words unto me and these great peoples, now go! Go ready your men as we go down South of London to face the Creepies of Crystal Palace…
How art thou fallen from heaven, O Louis Van ‘Gall’, son of the Frisian Prince! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!
For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into Britannia, I will exalt my throne above the stars of England: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north:
I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the Duke of Ashburtonshire – Wenger.
Yet thou shalt be brought down to hell, to the sides of the pit, by the lowly Swine of Swansea
Then they that see thee shall narrowly look upon thee, and consider thee, saying, ”Is this the man that made the earth to tremble, that did shake kingdoms of Frasia?
Slowly, ever so slowly the Frisian royal LVG came round, he had been badly wounded in the heat of battle against the Swine of Swansea...
LV ‘Gall’: Where…where…where am I?
Henchman Roo: Chief, thou art in an infirmary in Old Traffordshire.
LV Gall: What…w…what happened? Infirmary? Why?…Uuuurgh! I taste gall in me mouth… *wretches*
Henchman Roo: *Snorts* Aye, ye tastes yerself innit?
Henchman Mata: Oh shatap Roo, the man is in pain.
Henchman Roo: We’re all in pain dammit! I want my Moisty Moyes back! *sob*
And the Duke and his knights triumphed over the Creepies of Crystal Palace in a bloodied battle in which the Arsenalian army lost one hundred men however, they cut down the Creepies by two hundred more as their leader Pulis the Irritable had long gone and left them in the lurch.
Lord Ramsey: Haha! We purse-th the Creepies past the Thames for sure! They know-eth better now not to come snooping.
Lord Sanchez: Maravilloso victoria para nosotros! (Wonderful victory for us!)
Lord Chambers: Chuffed to bits that I carry-eth the Arsenalian crest, real honour for me Sir Lord Ramsey! Real honour.
Lord Ramsey: Call me Rambo lad, Rambo would do just fine.
Lord Arteta: Sssh…. what is that I hear?
Lord Koscielny: What’s that?
Lord Chamberlain: huh? what…?
*Esquire Akpom runs in*
Esquire Akpom: My Duke! My Duke! The King Chips, his royal crispiness says we sail to Besiktas on the ‘morrow.
All the Knights: Ssssshhhh…
Duke Wenger: Quick! Let’s go up the hill to see afar.
*They all climb atop the Gillespie hill not far from the plains of Finsbury*
Lord Artets: Oh no! It’s coming from the Kingdom of the Chavs, the fishmongers led by The ‘insert whatever you like here‘ One.
Lord Wilshere: So it’s true after all…
Lord Debuchy: Que? What?
Lord Wilshere: The ‘___’ One has employed the services of the captain of the Uruk-hai
Lord Ramsey & Lord Chamberlain: Noooo! Not Uruk de Costa?!!
Lord Wilshere: Yes…it is he.
Duke Wenger looks afar towards Chelsea in the horizon
Duke Wenger: It begins.