One doesn't quite know if Arsenal makes a Shakespearean tragedy or a comedy. Is it Hamlet or Twelfth Night Or What You Will? Or is Wilshere an exceedingly cunning contraction of William Shakespeare?
Surely, there is a part for Theo Walcott who seemingly couldn't shoot himself out of a paper bag or for that matter his striking counterpart Olivier Giroud. The second half was a endless teeing up to run the score against Swansea to a bakers dozen but it took Jack Wilshere's left footed strike in the 86th minute to break the deadlock. By then he had established himself as a kinetic force of nature. He was to the ball as the Bard of Avon was to the word.
There was everything to feel invigorated by this win. There was everything to feel dismayed by this win. If Arsenal had a dead eye finisher, a Vasily Zaytsev of football sniping, we would not be having this conversation. It's as if we are cursed by straight arrows when what we need is a bast*rd with a twisted brain.