Everyone who expresses an opinion raves about Lost in Translation, a turgid offering, set in a Tokyo hotel, "starring" Bill Murray. A fortnight ago, small talk over pre-match paella and several bottles of rioja at Camp Nou were also lost in translation. A certain Old Etonian - let's call him Mr Foot-in-Mouth to spare his further blushes - tried to ingratiate himself with his Catalan hosts by using conversational Spanish.

Mr Foot-in-Mouth: "We have a certain player who hails from Espanyol (emphasis). My manager says he's the (emphasis) numero uno! You aren't planning anything ghastly, are you, like taking him from us this summer?"

Catalan response (sniggering): "Have no fears, Signor Foot-in-Mouth. We have no desire to relieve you of your priceless (emphasis) numero uno!"

Priceless, of course, usually refers to an item so valuable it can never be sold. From a Spaniard, its meaning could be lost in translation; that the entity is actually deemed worthless. Some Shakespearian comedies rely on less but Sunday’s Comedy of Errors was no laughing matter.

And so we segue from one hapless flapper to another. Fabianski turned 25 yesterday but he was the one handing out the presents. Some children tease and torment their younger siblings by bouncing a ball on their heads, re-catching it and then awaiting a reaction. In the penultimate minute of normal time, Fabianski tried this little trick on the strapping Titus Bramble, who gleefully equalised. Two minutes after this study in the art of goalkeeping came a study in the art of defending. Three Arsenal defenders plied their trade in a perfect straight line; trouble was, they were stretched up the pitch, not across it, as I believe is the convention. In beating one, Charles N'Zogbia beat all. Game over. Season over.

And so we segue from one Polish goalkeeper birthday boy on our books to another. Szczesny turned 20 on Sunday. Everyone who expresses an opinion raves about him, myself included after his (and my) recent visit to The New Den. Saddo that I am, I'm planning a trip to Griffin Park this evening for the visit of Tranmere just to see Brentford's numero 53. I'd love to see him between our sticks next season but experience suggests Arsene will travel from A (for Almunia) to D (Szczesny) via B (Fabianski) and C (Mannone), so I'm not holding my breath.

Tuesday 6th April 2010 may be a significant date for the Premier League in general and Arsenal in particular. I suspect it will forever be associated with our 4-1 humiliation at Barca but, even more importantly for Arsenal fans, it heralded the new UK fiscal year and the introduction of a new, higher top-rate income tax bracket of 50% (from 40%). That represents a 17% fall in the disposable income of Premier League footballers, including Cesc. He can go home, pay tax at a far lower rate and on an even bigger gross salary, making him substantially better off. He can win trophies that his talent deserves and reduce significantly the possibility of a career-threatening injury. For Arsene to effectively liken Spain's La Liga - with only two teams - to the SPL (home to Scottish giants Rangers and Celtic) smacks of desperation to keep his numero uno and talisman. Before the Champions League QF first leg, Arsene said that the tie was 50:50. He now says any personal contract extension beyond 2011 will depend on his assessment of his squad's "capacity". These two statements are wildly inconsistent - Poles apart, in fact - but actions speak louder than words. If he does not re-sign (note the hyphen), it will speak volumes for what he truly believes our prospects to be (or not to be, as Shakespeare might have said).

Enjoy the World Cup. See you in August.