A few things take your attention away from the purpose of attending a Premier League football match. You quickly check the scores in the other games being played around the country in the hope that those around you are losing. You often flip to the back of your match day programme to confirm the name of the latest w**ker in the black, and where he comes from. Rotherham…

Some, grown adult men amongst them, turn their back on the game completely for a few moments to inform the visiting fans that they too are w**kers, and that he (it is usually a 'he') will take them all on outside after. All of them. Together. After. Especially the one he points out individually, who should come over here and say anything they've got to say face to face. Never mind the barrier, stewards and police between.

As he's doing so he's completely missed the latest inch perfect Fabregas pass, but he cares not. He has vented anger that needed venting, feels better for it, and will do the very same gesture to the next set of visiting fans the week after next.

Compared to the 'chap' who sits and stands just a row in front of me, even this is a worthwhile distraction. Abusing opposing fans in one form or another will always be an important part of a match day experience. It has its place.

Crosswords do not.

With 60 minutes past against West Ham recently, and with tackles flying in as a nil-nil bore intensified, this fan decided the important game in front of him was a distraction to that which was really playing on his mind, something he was finding all too hard to leave behind with half time. Something needed finishing. Something wasn't complete.

His f**kin crossword.

Sure, he'd got one across correct, or so he felt, with 'SWEEP UP' confidently inserted with his fancy pen. No Bic. But there were, like the trophy gaps in the perimeter around the upper tier, spaces to be filled. Spaces that would not be filled by watching the Arsenal. A team you claim to support, seemingly proving so to the extent of purchasing a season ticket.

This wasn't a time for them. The players in red and white were jolly fun to watch some of the time, like the last game at home to Shakhtar. That was fun. Goals, goals and goals. It was super. This was boring, your crossword was not. Each clue which lead you to a new answer was like a goal that was thus far missing on the lavish green lawn stretched out in front of you. You'd be gone by the time Song popped up with the winner.

He's done this before, and often enjoys Sudoku too. This is the first time I've used the platform of the Gooner and Twitter to highlight the problem of the modern football fan.

From Twitter, it seems Crossword Gooner is not alone in having other things on his mind at a time when most of us are only concerned with two things. Arsenal. Winning.

www.twitter.com/SianyMacalarny mentioned a bloke who sits behind her. A teacher who brings along his marking to night matches. (F)

www.twitter.com/kanepb88 was asked to stop singing at the home game against City last season because another fan "had a headache". Bless.

Crosswords. Homework. Headaches. No wonder it's so f**kin quiet.

In between 'Bubbles' and that disgusting chant, travelling Hammers gave us their regular rendition of "Just like the library", which is an ideal place for a crossword to be completed.

Being quiet at home is not an Arsenal only problem. This can verified by trips to Upton Park and Stamford Bridge, amongst others.

Perhaps Crossword is not exclusive to Arsenal either. The modern game has changed, and so have the people that go.

Which I am not to judge. Anybody who wants to go to and see the Arsenal should be allowed the opportunity that safe stadias, the elimination of hooliganism, and an increased capacity courtesy of Arsene's revolution, have brought.

If you have that privilege, appreciate it.

But if you can't leave the crosswords, books, or homework alone for ninety odd minutes, why bother coming? Arsenal is not for you. If you turn up ten minutes late, disappear another ten before half time and beat the rush with 80 on the clock, don't bother at all.