Question: What have Mo Farah and Arsenal FC in common? Answer: Neither “do” silverware. And until someone beats “Our Mo” – not to be confused with the late Mo Mowlam, as once described by Phoney Glare – neither is likely to. The closest our players will get to a medal this season is when, inevitably, deservedly, our celebrity fan is next match-day guest of honour.

And it’s no consolation that the interminable summer transfer window hasn’t resulted in the usual loss of at least one star player. Individually and collectively they are simply not quite good enough. Whereas others have strengthened (Citeh, Spurs and Chelsea) or tried but failed with realistic bids (ManU), we’ve lost a plethora of squad players and journeymen, some of whom would come in rather handy right now.

With Vermaelen and Monreal injured, Sagna, our first-choice right-back, doubled as cover in two positions. Himself now injured, along with Gibbs, and Koscielny suspended for the umpteenth time, it’s not so much a case of “Houston, we have a problem”, as “Denver, we have several problems”. And they are mainly of our own making. Suddenly, yet not altogether surprisingly – we’ve been here before, after all – season-long loans for Djourou and Miquel seem a tad premature. Come back Andre Santos, all is forgiven!

The worst aspect of our season-opening fiasco has, predictably, completely eluded most so-called observers. Sagna was injured, or, rather, injured himself, right on 90 minutes. During his two minutes’ on-field treatment, what did Arsenal’s back-up “team” do? Sweet Football Association, that’s what. As play resumed, two goals and two players down, one of the brighter sparks obviously had a cunning plan: why don’t we use our third substitute to assist our remaining eight outfield players? Brilliant. Podolski was readied and, at the next interuption, entered the fray.

If you believe that such manifest incompetence is a one-off, think again. The back page of the programme lists Number 27, Gervinho. Remember that twelve months ago Arsenal Player was having trouble spelling correctly the surname of our eventual Player of the Season, Santi Cazorla (or is it Carzola, or even Carzorla?). The lack of professionalism at our club runs from top to bottom. I can no longer defend the current regime. I will not attempt to defend the indefensible.

(Ed’s note – on the theme of incompetence at Arsenal, the back page of the Villa programme has the flags of the countries the players represent internationally next to their names. It appears to these eyes as if Nacho Monreal is now French, Abou Diaby is Russian, and Carl Jenkinson is Irish. At times, you wonder if this is all some new Ricky Gervais script…)