Le Sulk Returns

We here on 116th Street would like to take this time to warmly welcome Nicolas Anelka back to the Premiership, in this, Arsenal's summer of discontent. Nobody, of course, knows how to pout his way out of an ideal situation quite like Anelka, and the current want-aways of North London, Ashley Cole and Jose Antonio Reyes (who I henceforth dub "Vincent Chase," due to his shoddy publicity, bridge-burning agent and Mandy Moore-like obsession with Real Madrid) should really take notes on how to properly abandon the Gunners. Anelka, after all, is the one who left the Gunners, only to join a star-studded Real Madrid lineup and walk away with a Champions League title. Sure his London departure paved the way for Thierry Henry's ascension, consequently ruining his future with France, but who really cares about that? Do any Arsenal players have a European Cup on their resumes?
Of course, following Anelka's example can be a pretty slippery slope, but that's why we love him. Who else can boast of headlining eight different clubs across four different countries by the age of 27? I guess Bolton Wanderers would be apropos, in his case. Thing is, we here on 116th Street, really, really like Nicolas Anelka. There is something about the way in which he never promises to mature or apologize that somehow makes him seem more sincere than the Jermaine Pennants of the world. The prospect of him pissing off yet another authoritarian English manager warms our hearts to no end, and we can't wait to hear the first rumblings of yet another move. We missed the guy, what can we say? In a year of pretenders, the original malcontent has returned.