Our incessant demands for gratification imply some sort of divine right to receive a return on our exorbitant investment in a seat at the Arsenal, by way of regular silverware.
In the first half against Norwich, Iwobi was the sole attacking player to show willingness, while the lethargy elsewhere suggested that the majority couldn’t care less about the ignominious threat of Thursday night football in the Europa League.
After witnessing Simeone’s heart-on-his-sleeve antics on the touchline for Atletico in midweek, it occurred to me that our players wouldn’t dare fob the fans off with such a lazy display if they were facing the wrath of a rabid Diego in the dressing room.
Not that our staid club would risk adverse PR and its impact upon commercial revenue streams by employing such a hot-headed manager.
Nor is Wenger likely to want to walk away from another season’s worth of his £8m salary.
Even in the unlikely event the smattering of disgruntled punters registered with Stan Kroenke, he’s not exactly going to be on the phone to his broker this morning to divest himself of his majority interest.
After Arsene incensed Gooners on Friday by deeming our home crowd culpable for our poor form, at least our arrogant manager had the good sense to apologise for his team’s failure this season, after we’d scraped over the line on Saturday.
But then this concession came after hearing the chorus of “only one Arsene Wenger” that rang out simultaneously to the few hundred flyers appearing 12 minutes into the match (and in some cases, was sung by those holding them up!).
These knee-jerk protests at our place and at Goodison, largely inspired by publicity-seeking egotists, are a reaction to the semblance that the customary excuses no longer wash, so long as bargain buys such as Kanté and Alli are tearing it up for the likes of Leicester and Tottenham.
Nevertheless, although there’s as much good fortune as savoir-faire in unearthing the catalyst responsible for the chemistry involved in the sort of camaraderie that every club craves, it’s the Gunners’ perennial failure to address our long-standing grievances that has us looking like we’re throwing our toys out of our pram.
At least it does to those who view the bane of encountering the glamorous likes of Bayern and Barca every season as the limit of their ambitions.
We need to bring our boots, instead of flip-flops, if we’re to beat City next weekend and prolong the fantasy of leapfrogging Spurs.
Where once I’d hoped Alexis would inspire his teammates with his appetite, sadly even our Chilean dynamo appears to be coming down with a dose of Arsenal apathy.
It’s invariably the apparent lack of motivation at this crucial stage in the season that is the starkest possible evidence of the costly lack of insecurity that exists throughout our club.
With Wenger reigning supreme, the board reaping their dividends, and with a carrot-and-stick-wielding guv’nor neither on the bench nor the pitch, everyone at our club trundles along, safe in the knowledge there’s absolutely no threat of sanction.
While I appreciate that some feel obliged to find some means to vent their frustrations, such overt displays of disunity are to the detriment of the cause, when steadfast support in pursuit of the three points should really be sacrosanct.