24 hours until "Cesc to Barca" concludes

Barcelona claimed that the Cesc Fabregas deal would be done within 48 hours, and 24 hours have elapsed since that claim. There's only 24 hours left for the biggest deal in Europe to take place. Joan Laporta's getting desperate, and has called up Jack Bauer to hurry things along:

Jack's got Wenger strapped to a chair in a dingy North London apartment and he's breaking Wenger's fingers one by one. Wenger gives a Gallic shrug with each sickening crack, and Jack's getting annoyed. Pretty soon, he's going to have to do to Wenger what he did to that Arab terrorist a few seasons ago...

Ivan Gazidis has Joan Laporta in a headlock and is screaming at him to tell the media that they're not after Fabregas. Laporta slips out of Gazidis' grip and elbows him sharply in the neck. Gazidis grunts and then karate-chops Laporta. He drags Laporta to the toilet and repeatedly flushes Laporta's head in the bowl. But still Laporta won't refute the Cesc to Barcelona stories in front of the media...

Cesc is stuck at Heathrow, and his flight to Barcelona's in one hour. His girlfriend's on the Tube and there's a delay on the line. He's frantically calling her, wondering if she'll make it in time. He's dreaming of tapas and sunshine and the brilliant blue of the Med. He doesn't want to have to wait for another flight to leave London behind...

Peter Hill-Wood is out in the backyard of his Kensington mansion, pottering around. He's been on gardening leave since David Dein took over from the club. He doesn't want Cesc to leave either, but who gives a fuck what Hill-Wood thinks? He doesn't have much of a say nowadays, and contents himself with smoking fine cigars, chairing the board and talking shit to the tabloids every month or so...

And all the while, the clock's ticking. Will Jack finish off all of Wenger's fingers and have to start with his toes? Will Gazidis hunt down the rest of the Barca board once he's finished with Laporta? Will Cesc's girlfriend make it to Heathrow in time? Will Peter Hill-Wood find time to say something truly stupid to the tabloids again?

Guess we'll have to find out tomorrow, next episode.

So on the 338th last day of my 20s, I took my parents out for breakfast for my dad's 60th. Had a look at buying a new pair of running shoes, noticed the sports store have is stocking Arsenal shirts now. Thought briefly about one or the other, and then realised that if Wenger's not going to be stuffed with spending our money on players, I'm not going to be stuffed spending money on their shirts.

Went to a church function after work, fully intent on asking the girl of my dreams out. Keyed up for it. Looked around the room for her, couldn't find her. Bumped into her sister instead, and was told, in the kindest blunt manner possible, that I had no chance and to save myself the impending pain of rejection and consequential awkwardness.

This is going to kill me.