Once every two home games I go to Ashburton Grove with my dad to watch the greatest club ever play football. The area where I sit is great and everyone around us are true supporters who don’t leave ten minutes before the end. This is brilliant and I love every minute of it.

There is one small catch though. Occasionally my sister and I are both available for a match and so my sister sits with my dad and I sit with my grandpa. My grandpa is great company and he has really good seats, right on the halfway line - but this comes with a price. I have to endure the “fans”. Grumpy, Guardian readers who think that Wenger’s alright, but they could do a lot better. They would sell Diaby (too slow), Almunia (isn’t Cech), Walcott (not a wonder kid at 18, so obviously won’t be any good ever), Adebayor (can’t score, 19 goals just a fluke) and sack Wenger (what has he ever done for us? Needs to by more binge-drinking, fat, underachieving English players).

This really makes me angry as they pay a lot of money just to have a go at our own players. These men are obviously ex-professional football players who won many trophies in Europe, as they know a lot about what the players should do with the ball. “Get stuck in!” “What a stupid foul!” “Shooooot!” “Why is he even in the team?” “He could never score from there!”

With all that energy these “fans” must sing a lot, right? Nope. When I chanted the new Adebayor song, they stared at me with a mixture of horror and disgust. I didn’t sing for the rest of the game as I had a bad feeling that I would be strangled with a broadsheet.

But none of this anger compares to the rage I feel when they talk about their favourite football club, Manchester United. “Flamini couldn’t get into the Manchester United squad. In fact, most of our team couldn’t with the exception of Fabregas, though Carrick is English…” is one of the lectures I received from a balding man sitting next to me.

So Gooner readers, let us unite against these men and make Ashburton a fortress…