It was a couple of seasons ago that Alex Ferguson first noticed the phenomenon that apart from a couple of teams, ie. ‘the usual suspects’, that there was no-one around, in the domestic league, to give Man Utd a proper run-out. And now it’s happening to Arsenal. After the jellies of Derby we now had the en masse Laurel and Hardy’s of Southampton. If the Saints keep playing like this I guarantee that in two seasons time they’ll be plying their trade in the bottom half of the second division. I’ve rarely seen a side so inept; they couldn’t kick, they couldn’t pass, they couldn’t attack or defend. Breathing and twitching was about their limit. And I believe your average mollusc can do that too. It’s amazing that they managed to dress themselves Saturday morning. Of course, the consequences of this was that Arsenal looked like gods. Ljungberg hit the post as did Wiltord and Henry getting the rebound from his compatriot missed the sitter of the season; the equivalent of throwing a stone at the sea and missing the wet bit completely.

Someone with more stats than sense pointed out that this was the first time since the Pleistocene era that Arsenal fielded a side without one of the famous five: Adams, Bould, Keown, Dixon or Winterburn. But it made little difference as the opposition were as lightweight as an Archer alibi. Sol Campbell returned and fitted into a decent partnership with Upson, Richard Wright, though, not put to the sword, still managed to make Seaman look like an old bloke with a dodgy shoulder and an even dodgier barnet. Pires, Vieira, Van Bronckhorst and Ljungberg had more room than a tramp shitting in a tube train and the boys at the front, Henry and Wiltord, had the time and space to perform all the sideshow tricks that now passes for forward play at ‘Team Arsenal.’ Still, mustn’t grumble.

The first goal came from Henry dispossessing a striped muppet somewhere in the middle, arrowing a pass that Wiltord helped onto Pires who hit it low and hard across the face of the goal. Arsenal then could have tipped the score into double figures but had to be content with a deflected Henry shot late in the second half. One bit of sublime Henry trickery, a back heel nearly found a rampaging Bergkamp, who ended up in the back of the net instead of the ball.

I hate to sound ungrateful and thirteen out of fifteen points away is a truly superb record, but the opposition just isn’t there. Let’s see how they fare against Greeks bearing grit. Later.

Well here we are top of the league (for the moment), freely scoring, looking like a fantastic team if you believe the edited highlights and if you read all the strangely eschewed press coverage, then you’ll know that this is the best Arsenal squad since the last one. So why is it so painful to actually watch? It could be the complete lack of anything resembling a defence. Without Adams there is no spine, just a couple of jellied, boneless limbs flapping about. Upson looks shit scared, which is probably a legacy of playing alongside the deeply scary Kevin Campbell - Keown is now definitely entering his twilight years (he even shook hands with Mark Hughes at the end- shaking throats would have been better) and Gilles Grimandi looked about as useful as belly button fluff against a determined gaggle of nippy midgets wearing the blue and white of Blackburn. It’s probably a good job Campbell didn’t play, the score could have been stratospheric. Van Bronckhorst proved that there’s no substitute for a proper left back in the absence of Cole; how we miss Silvinho and Winterburn now. On the right Lauren went forward, but rarely came back. And on the bench, just for the sheer comfort factor, was that solid DIY flat pack of a player, Oleg Luzhny. The options were more limited than a discussion with Tony Blair. Vieira, Ray Parlour and Pires were the over stretched midfield, ably abetted by Grimandi who did a terrific impersonation of the concept of ‘invisiblity’. Henry strolled around up front like a surly lost French child on a school outing, leaving only a rejuvenated Dennis Bergkamp to test the Blackburn resolve with a stunning series of bendy shots, floating balls and well struck raspers. Only the Blackburn keeper, Friedel, stopped the game from being a one man Bergy show.

Despite what we all said on Tuesday, Wiltord’s arrival off the bench made a lot of difference. For once his body strength carried him through the opposing defence rather than allowing him to demonstrate the inevitability of the laws of gravity on little stocky blokes who turn slower than an old lady with a gammy hip. It was his persistence that set up the third goal for Henry. Arsenal’s first goal, the pick of the bunch, saw a lovely diagonal run from Pires take him across the area and a superb bit of vision as he picked his spot out a crowd of blue and white that appeared to be numbered in the hundreds. The second goal was a point blank Bergkamp lash that spun out of Friedel’s hands and virtually screwed itself into the ground.

Typical of the Big Bloke who maintains the cosmic wheel and the karmic balance of a our dusty corner of the universe, Man United got beat at home by Bolton of all people. Next week they’ll go back to beating the tar out of people whilst we’ll be struggling with basic rules of physics and football at the Stadium of light. We know this all sounds like mindless moaning, but believe us, all is not well. It’s difficult to see where the next bit of excitement is coming from. The lack of on pitch mobility and urgency coupled with the lacklustre team spirit and the increasingly myopic repetitions and peccadilloes of Wenger make these tedious days indeed.