L'Arsene Wenger

L'Arsenal

L'Highbury

L'Ondon

Dear Mr. Wanger,

Testosterone Spirits

I hear from my friends at the Corporation that you are somewhat enraged by young Jeffers' red card at the Millennium last Sunday afternoon. That's your fifty up isn't it? Well done. Or should I say Zut Alors!?

Anyway, not to worry. I remember once being an angry young man, charged with raging hormones and full of the sort of testosterone that was always threatening to spill over prematurely. It got me into a number of sticky situations, I seem to recall, but I can imagine it would have been a whole lot worse if I'd been called Francis to boot. So he'll come right ... just give him a sock and a copy of Men Only before each match, and at half-time if necessary, and he'll be a doe-eyed puppy for you.

Anyway, in case you're interested, the boy Neville was asking for it all along, not that I condone such violence you understand. Indeed, some might say that he's been asking for it since he gormlessly gifted Romania with that fatal 89th minute penalty-winner at Euro2000.

Yours sincerely,

Montague Trout

Manager, Organcheese Academicals