Following such a depressing week, with the Gunners spineless FA Cup capitulation and our almost inevitable Champions League demise, the doctor couldn’t possibly have ordered a better tonic than three points, a clean sheet and a man-of-the-match display from young Alex Iwobi at Goodison.

Judging by the irritatingly incessant whining of the WOB (Wenger Out Brigade), despite the fact that we’re currently looking down on every other club in the country, there are far too many Gooners who simply can’t comprehend that the vast majority of fans spend their entire lifetimes waiting, mostly in vain, for their teams to win something.

An afternoon which started with a huge social-media hoax about The Gobby One getting the boot ended with the Scousers stealing our thunder by sacking Brendan Rodgers. In between, we’ve witnessed the sort of complete performance from the Gunners against Manchester United that we’ve been waiting for, ever since Fergie sought refuge in his pipe and slippers.

There was much delight among travelling Gooners at being geographically blessed with the dream ticket promotion of Watford, Bournemouth and Norwich.

Thankfully, unlike the farcical officiating at the Etihad, the ref at St James’ Park on Saturday didn’t thoroughly spoil the spectacle for the watching millions, by sending the wrong player off in the opening seconds.

If the weekend’s opening salvoes served one purpose, it was to remind us that we’re slaves to such a fickle, footballing mistress.

It’s mere coincidence for us Gooners to be basking in the glow of our first trophy in nine long years, as the silver anniversary of that magical Mickey Thomas moment rolls around.

Just what on earth was going through the minds of all those Gooners who booed long and loud at the final whistle in Arsenal’s scoreless draw with Manchester United at the Emirates on Wednesday night?

A crisp sunny day for a drive out of the Big Smoke, the lilting Welsh accents of the genial locals, a clean sheet, three goals and a return trip back across the Severn Bridge, plumped up by a seven-point cushion.

Excuses out of the way first. One of these days we might get to go to Old Trafford without some sort of squad-decimating drama depriving us of essential players.

A big thank you to the Irons since dropping two points at the Hawthorns didn’t seem quite so disappointing as it might have done if Spurs drubbed West Ham.

Arsenal’s spending but Stan Kroenke says he’s in for the long haul

SAMIR NASRI finally completed his move from Arsenal to Manchester City last night and took a parting swipe at Gunners fans.

THERE are still plenty of Gooners clinging on like grim death to the hope that the greatest manager our glorious club has ever known, might yet prove he’s not become entirely blind to reality.

CONSIDERING the scenes of an increasingly tormented Arsène Wenger writhing in anguish on the touchline these past few weeks, I’m sure if he was a four-legged filly someone would’ve had the kindness to put him out of his misery.

OKAY, hands up. Never mind the never-ending saga of Manny Eboué’s infuriating naivety, I take full responsibility for the injury-time fiasco at the Emirates on Sunday.

HOPEFULLY by the time you read this missive, I’ll be breakfasting on Las Ramblas, basking in the warm glow, after the Gunners have made a complete mockery of all those who believed we didn’t have a hope in hell of surviving beyond our outing to Camp Nou.

WE bumped into Frank McLintock outside our turnstile at Wembley on Sunday and I was hoping this might be a good omen. I jokingly suggested to our double winning skipper that “I wouldn’t mind having you in the middle of the park this afternoon”.

WITH the two legs against Pep Guardiola’s Barca, a side that’s widely perceived as the paradigm of the beautiful game, sandwiched between games against Leyton Orient, Stoke and Sunderland — not to mention the trifling matter of a trip to Wembley — I guess us Gooners are set to witness the entire wonderful panoply of the footballing spectrum over the coming weeks.

IF there’s one thing that never fails to amaze me, it’s football fans’ eternal propensity to rebound from the very depths of heart-rending disillusionment.

AS Fergie might have said, and as Arsenal as well as Ireland now know to their cost: ye cannae win anything with Hanssons.

IT’S a sorry state of affairs when one’s aspirations are limited to a desire to see the local rivals prospects of silverware run their course for yet another campaign.

PRESTON was a great trip. We travelled up on Friday night and made a weekend of it — rejecting the “allure” of nearby Blackpool, we stayed just outside Preston and encountered a town and its people excited at having Chelsea coming to visit.

ANOTHER free Saturday. I could get used to this. I’m never sure what to make of the FA Cup once we’re out of it, which is strange as we’ve certainly had enough practice under Rafa.

IN LIGHT of our relatively poor recent form and the ridiculous rash of injuries, I reckon that much like myself, most Gooners will be pleasantly surprised to be sitting down to our turkey with only a two-point deficit on Man Utd and six behind the league leaders, with a game in hand on both.

I am no fan of early KOs — and I only have a short stroll around to the ground. It seems that very few Blackburn fans bothered to make a crack-of-dawn schlep down from the north-west, but for all those Gooners travelling from far and wide, who might’ve been forced to forsake their Sunday lie-ins, their efforts were well rewarded, with a veritable smorgasbord of a footballing Sunday brunch.

THERE is nothing more exhila-rating than an injury time winner — the explosion of emotion and joy — especially when you have all but given up hope.

SIX yellow cards in a game which didn’t include a single malicious tackle; United back on terms from the award of a penalty at the Stretford End, after Shava’s far more blatant penalty shout had been ignored; then our much-maligned manager suffering the ultimate ignominy of being sent to the stands, for the last few seconds, after harmlessly venting his frustration on a water bottle. All in all, a fairly typical, fruitless afternoon at Old Trafford.

THE PHRASE “the sublime to the ridiculous” could have been penned for Chelsea FC. Whether it be Osgood to Mayes, Mourinho to Grant or last Wednesday’s spectacular performance up at Anfield to the extraordinary finish to Saturday’s game against Bolton.

A FUNCTIONAL display against Coventry saw us book a place in the semi-finals of the Cup against Arsenal or Hull. More than likely Arsenal, as Hull's star has plummeted since they beat the Gooners at the Emirates.

The Examiner’s football correspondent Liam Mackey likes a good argument when he hears it, and he’s got strong views of his own.