The hip thing to do in recent times at any mention of the romance of the FA Cup is to scoff, but is anyone else uplifted that for all the talk about a fitting Wembley send-off for Stevie G, the termination of that possibility has simultaneously opened up the prospect of a fairytale story for a Shay G?

Highbury is hardly leafy suburbia and perhaps there’s an inevitable bias with me being a Gooner.

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.

IN LIGHT of the way the Gunners’ campaign has petered out in such a pitiful fashion these past few weeks, I don’t think there are too many Arsenal fans who truly believe that the three points secured against Blackpool on Sunday have put us back in the title picture.

NOT that we needed any reminding (following our traumatic implosion on Tyneside) but football’s a fickle old mistress.

MAKE no mistake about it, if, by parking their tractors on the goal-line, Ipswich managed to triumph last night, there’ll be more than a few amongst the Gooner faithful who’ll be extremely miffed about missing out on a Carling Cup final.

DON’T get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against bad losers, as it’s the distaste for defeat that makes determined winners. Still I wanted Arsene Wenger to shake Mark Hughes’ hand last Wednesday night and prove himself to be the bigger man, instead of demonstrating the same lack of stature that some would have us believe is a crucial weakness in this Arsenal squad.

ARSENE WENGER’S place in English football history is assured for so many reasons.