Eddie, Eddie, Eddie… Goal, Goal, Goal!

A hat-trick. He wears 14 on the back. He’s no Thierry Henry. But our greatest goal scorer of all time would have been proud of the third. His second goal had Ian Wright’s name all over it. The first had some Bergkampesque jiggery pokery. Maybe even a smidgen of Cliff Bastin who loved to sneak in from the wing. 

It was an easy win. No need to go through the gears.

Such was the lack of sweat expended, the kit washer person could have headed home at 60 minutes. No need for a quick shot of Lynx Africa before heading out for the night. Not one bum was squeaked on the North Bank.  

Susie Dent of Countdown fame mourns the death of certain words from the English language. There’s an easy word to describe Arsenal’s performance against Sheffield United. But Sheffield United were full of ruth. There would be many gruntled fans leaving the Emirates, well appointed by the performance.

On the wrong end of the Seven Sister’s road, the Middlesex Muppets are suffering from hypoxia. They are not used to such heights. They know in their hearts their position is temporary. Rarely does their season’s DVD continue past Halloween.

No Jesus. No Odegaard. No problem. Victoria Concordia Crescit. Victory through harmony. A V-12 engine ticking over.

Declan Rice is the management system deciding where the fuel is needed for the next attack. A good engine translates the violence of thousands of explosions a minute into smooth power. He 

I thought signing him was going to be worth 10 points this season. He’s the Concordia with the power of four Olympus Rolls Royce engines cruising effortlessly at twice the speed of sound.

Eddie Nketiah could have been described as ruthless yesterday, but he’s a better man than that. Could have had his fourth. An armband on his sleeve after Saka’s departure on 70 minutes belied his youth.

He was clinical. Yet, handing the ball to Fabio Vieira showed he was full of ruth. Victoria Concordia Crescit. Share the love.

Believe.