TERRACE TALK: Arsenal - Woeful lack of firepower costing us dearly

The omens were hardly auspicious en route to West Brom on Saturday when the blokes in the back of the car with me admitted their only other away day this season was the dismal defeat at the Bridge.

Perhaps I was no less at fault, having dug out my longjohns for the first time this season, in the face of such a bitterly cold snap.

Following a fortnight in which the world’s worst horrors have been brought to our doorstep, making everyone terrifyingly aware of our vulnerability, I was positively desperate for the blissful distraction of the resumption of Premier League hostilities.

Such was the level of anticipation at being able to lose myself on the terraces for 90 minutes that somewhat inevitably, our afternoon ended up an infuriating anti-climax.

I should’ve seen the disappointing writing on the wall, when my little jig of joy, hearing on my radio that the Hornets had equalised as I walked up to the Hawthorns, was cut short when Man Utd went top of the table (briefly), by bagging a last gasp winner before I’d even reached the turnstiles.

The new reality of the world’s heightened state of dread was evident in the way previously cursory body searches have now become far more rigorous; and yet no less futile, since every regular matchday goer can attest that nothing will stop the most determined nutter from doing their worst.

Mind you, what I would have given to the Gooner who’d smuggled in a selection of rockets on Saturday.

After seeing the Baggies gift us a set-piece goal, only for the Gunners to promptly switch off and concede two in quick succession, I will leave it to your imagination how these might’ve been best employed (right “up the Arsenal”!).

As one would expect with Pullis at the helm, West Brom are typically well-organised behind the ball. Yet with the home side being so woefully short of firepower on current form, it seems absolutely everyone, bar our manager, appreciated quite how important it was for a team with genuine title ambitions to come away with all three points on Saturday.

After being left out of the starting line-up in favour of a second full-back out on our left flank, judging by the way Joel Campbell fluffed his lines when he eventually entered the fray, where once Arsène inspired “unbelievable belief”, he has instead taken to fostering “indubitable doubt”!

Worse still, any sentient being worth his salt would have no need of a technical data spreadsheet to deduce that Alexis has lost his mojo.

It’s blindingly obvious from the stands that even if our Chilean dynamo is still covering the same mileage, he’s no longer doing so with a smile on his face.

When Santi’s standing foot slipped from under him, along with our last chance of a face-saving point, this pretty much summed up our miserable afternoon.

Prior to this, the partisan pundit on the local Black Country radio suggested it was as if ref Clattenburg was playing for the home team. Yet truth be told, we’ve enjoyed such flattering good fortune on the road in recent times, in spite of our indifferent form, that our luck was bound to run out.

Making a slippery escape from the gridlocked car park seemed to be the only result of the day, prior to the resurrection at the Etihad.

While Brendan’s ragbag Scousers returned from the break seemingly miraculously transformed by Klopp into a side that’s “just like watching Brazil”, City and the Gunners both appear blighted by the lugubrious global mood.

Still there was some solace in seeing the amiable Tinkerman savouring his entertaining Foxes’ moment in the spotlight, instead of a far too smug LVG.

The big question is whether we’ve seen every Gooners’ worst fear realised when Coquelin limped off.

But, in the event of such a catastrophe, our myopic manager must be just about the only person on the planet who couldn’t see this coming!