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Another day, another shambles!

Arsenal 3-0 Newcastle United

'I'll do it my way" said Steve Bruce before this one.

Which of course begs the question 'who the hells way has it been for the last year and a half?'

In any case, it was the same shambolic show form a clueless Steve Bruce and his rag tag band of out of form, out of touch, out of footballing shape rabble.

And this wasn't the Arsenal of old by the way. No. This was an Arsenal that started the day in the bottom half of the table, having scored just 9 goals at home all season and with their star striker, Aubameyang, totally out of sorts.

So no better game for them to put their season back on track than against a side that frankly would struggle in League One on current form.

Aubameyang would get his goal. A brace in fact. And Arsenal, who looked a little cagey in the first half, came out in the second half a totally overrun a clueless Newcastle United.

Smith Rowe and Saka in particular typifying everything that Arteta is trying to create at the Gunners. Energy, composure, exuberance, desire and confidence. A unit, that despite their early season struggles, have an identity. A way of playing and a purpose and goal.

Bruce and his Magpies. The yang to Arteta's yin.

Darlow did his best, of course. The centre half pairing can hardly be blamed for much of this tragedy either, and Almiron put in a shift that says he's really playing for the shirt and the badge. The rest... Where to start!?

Shelvey and Matty Longstaff were overrun in midfield. Joelinton a lost soul once more on the left wing. And Carroll, bless him, had no service at all playing alongside Wilson who didn't get a sniff all game. Carroll being replaced by Murphy of course, the one player who could have actually provided him with a cross.

As baffling as it was frustrating.

9 games without a win then, and the rot sets in even further. And it's 13 hours without a goal from open play. 13 bloody hours!!

The state of this club, from top to bottom, is depressing beyond words, with Steve Bruce centre stage, having gone from lovable but useless Geordie patsy, to a despised laughing stock.





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