Arsene Wenger and Edin Dzeko in 'An Arsenal Christmas Carol'

It was Christmas morning.

The sun beamed low across the thick coat of powdery, white snow enveloping the street. The air was crisp and still, and the snow remained untouched, glistening under the pure blue expanse of sky above. It was a quiet scene of seasonal tranquility.

Through the snow came the soft crunch of a young boy's footsteps. Turning the corner and passing a towering stone mansion, he nestled his head in his scarf and braced against the cold as he dragged his sled behind him, his breath forming hot, swirling clouds in the chill air.

All of a sudden, a pair of shutters flew open above him, sending a flurry of snow cascading onto the street. Startled, he looked up, only to get a faceful of powder.

Hearing high-pitched giggling above, he wiped the snow from his face to see what the commotion was all about. In the window above stood Arsene Wenger in his nightcap, uncharacteristically jolly and giving off a strange new aura of youthful exuberance.

"Say, what day is this?" the Frenchman called down to him.

The young boy sniggered, his brow twisted in bewilderment. "Why, Christmas day, Mister Wenger!"

Wenger clapped his hands, threw his head back, and emitted a hearty laugh. "Christmas day... Christmas day!" He span round in a frenzy, pressing his hand to his head and trying to gather himself together. "I haven't missed it!" he whispered. "The spirits did their work all in one evening! Well, of course they did," he mumbled, his thoughts racing, "Thank goodness!"

The boy looked utterly puzzled. Becoming slightly concerned by the old man's inane grinning and fidgeting, he interrupted. "Sir...?"

"Yes, dear boy. Do you know that butcher's round the corner, Wolfsburg's?"

"Yes, Mister Wenger."

"Splendid, dear boy, splendid!" Wenger bellowed, becoming increasingly animated. "And have you seen that enormous Bosnian copper turkey in the window?"

"Of course sir, all of London's been staring at it!"

Wenger's eyes widened, and he became more excited. "And is it still there? That dodgy fellow from Milan hasn't bought it?"

"Yes, I think it's still there, why?"

"Splendid!" Wenger chuckled, digging through the pockets of his robe. "Here, young fellow, take this money and fetch that turkey!"

He tossed a handful of coins at the boy who, overwhelmed, spilled them across the snow. He gathered them up and stood, perplexed. "Mister Wenger... this is twice what the turkey will cost!"

"Keep the rest for your trouble. Hurry now!"

"Y-Yes, sir!" the boy grinned, scrabbling to put the money in his pocket and grabbing his sled.

"Dear boy?"

The boy turned. "Yes sir?"

"Merry Christmas," Wenger beamed, a sickly-sweet smile spreading across his face.

"Merry Christmas, Mister Wenger!" the boy shouted, scurrying down the street as quickly as he could.

And so that afternoon, the good people of Highbury feasted together thanks to the generosity of a reformed Arsene Wenger. He had been visited in the night by the Ghosts of Christmas Past (David Dein), Present (Ivan Gazidis) and Future (Stan Kroenke), and would never return to his miserly old ways.

Understandably, the locals were perplexed by his change in behaviour, but no one questioned it; they simply ate and drank to their hearts' content. Even Senderos was allowed to join in. He got terribly excited, making far too much noise with his party blower and laughing uproariously at all of the Christmas cracker jokes, but he tired himself out quite quickly and was the first to be put to bed. Arshavin wasn't allowed too much food, of course, because everyone knew how he would get if he started putting on holiday weight. And at one stage Almunia spilled the roast potatoes, but Song was, as always, on hand to tidy up the mess.

They all returned to their respective homes content that night, with their bellies filled and their hearts warmed. They had endured a difficult year, but they were feeling confident about the next one. All because Arsene had splashed out on the prize Bosnian turkey.

And Tiny Tomas didn't die after all.

Merry Christmas Gooners!