Lego is fast becoming a caricature, a funny little meme that friends send to one another in text messages. He's like the Herbert Lom character from one of those Pink Panther films, where he starts to develop a facial tic and seems to see Clouseau everywhere. We've got to him, and we're wearing him out: eating away at his self-confidence, making him buckle under the immense pressure we've put on him with our recent run of victories.
He wants to drag his team over the finishing line, worthy victors after a bruising season, but he's not going to do it like most men would: gritted teeth, steely determination, stamina, and the courage to stand up and fight. All he's done is bask in the limelight of a win and deflect attention from his shortcomings after a defeat.
This, after all, is the man whose dull, dreary negative approach to the modern game is to spend billions on players and then instruct them all to go out on the pitch, fall over a lot, feign injury, and take as long as possible over a throw-in.
Arsenal fans, ask yourselves, do you really want to see this man in charge of your team for the foreseeable future?
