The Arsenal dressing room of the 1990s was absolutely mental.
It was ruled by a riotous ring of badly-behaved boozers who called themselves "The Tuesday Club".
From stints in the slammer to machete-wielding gangsters, this is the tale of Gooners Gone Wild...
Our story begins when Arsenal boss George Graham gives his squad Wednesdays off.
Tuesday nights quickly descend into "relentless drinking".
After an all-day piss up at a BBQ, captain Tony Adams crashes his Ford Sierra into a garden wall at 70mph.
He's jailed for 56 days.
Behind bars, the future England captain is befriended by a burly credit card fraudster called Scotchie, who sorts him a bottle of illicit vodka.
His new pal saves him from an attack by two Scousers who planned to break his kneecaps.
With its ringleader locked up, the Tuesday Club welcomes a new member: summer signing Jimmy Carter.
After impressing on his first day at training, Jimmy pisses all over winger Perry Groves in a packed London pub.
The horrified landlady bars him from the pub.
Sneaking off from England duty, Adams and Parlour are tucking into a BBQ meat feast in Pizza Hut Hornchurch, when they're heckled by Spurs fans.
They drench them (and other diners) with a fire extinguisher.
"By the time he'd finished I looked like a drowned rat" one recalled.
An exasperated George Graham calls his captain into his office.
"Tony, just stay out of trouble will you?" he asks. "Yes boss" Tony replies.
Shortly after, shocked punters report a bollock-naked Adams dancing on stage with a pub stripper in Billericay. The tabloids go mad.
As the carnage of the Tuesday Club ensues, there is one man who manages to keep himself out of trouble: goalkeeper David Seaman.
But even he is drawn into its sordid orbit when he ditches his wife to shack up with a Highbury promotions girl.
When the Gunners finish 12th in 1994, fans are furious...
Stories emerge of the squad vomiting at the roadside after an eating contest driving home from a game against Newcastle.
"Steve Bould won by a mile" recalled Ray Parlour. "He had nine dinners."
And coach George Graham has his head in his hands when word reaches him of an incident at Butlin's in Bognor Regis.
A 21-year-old Ray Parlour has been glassed in the face after yapping "don't you know who I am?" at drunken holidaymakers.
He needs 4 stitches to his forehead.
6 months down the line, Parlour is back in the bad books.
On the final night of a pre-season tour to Hong Kong, Ray and Tony Adams stumble into the triad run red-light district.
They're attacked by a machete-wielding taxi driver after lobbing prawn crackers under his bonnet.
After Ray decks the triad, Tony legs it, and Parlour is arrested, missing the flight home.
He's eventually released after paying a penalty, and flies back to London.
He's greeted at the airport by an incandescent George Graham, who hands him a whopping fine of 6 months wages.
But it's not long before Graham is in trouble himself.
Eyebrows are raised when Arsenal cough up a ludicrous fee for unknown Scandinavian "stars" John Jensen and Pal Lydersen.
It later emerges the Arsenal boss has pocketed £400,000 from a dodgy Norweigan agent.
He's sacked.
So, in 1996, a gangly Frenchman strolls into Highbury.
"Bonjour", he says, "Je suis Arsene, I will see you for tréning tomorrow."
"But tomorrow is Wednesday boss" pipes Tony Adams, slipping into his sequinned waistcoat.
"I will see you tomorrow, Tony" Arsene responds. "8am."
The following morning, Adams, Dixon, Merson and Parlour troop into the canteen.
"Fruit salad?" scoffs Parlour. "Where's the bacon and eggs?" The Highbury dinner ladies shuffle nervously.
"Sére will be no more of sis" Arsene butts in. "And one more thing - no more Mars bars."
The following week, the squad chant "we want our Mars bars" from the back of the bus on the drive up to Blackburn.
And there are some habits that die hard...
When Wenger grants his side an afternoon off during a pre-season tour in 1997, Bould and 5 teammates head to the pub...
"Can I have 35 pints" he asks the stunned barman, "and a small glass of wine for him", winking at French defender Gilles Grimandi.
After watching his pals neck 7 pints each, a shell-shocked Gilles flees.
Bould then spots Arsenal's French players smoking outside a cafe.
“How are we going to win the league this year when we’re all drunk and they’re smoking?’ he later recalls.
But Arsene Wenger's innovations (banning 12 pints and a Mars Bar before matches), mean the Gunners lift the League and Cup double.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
We can't promise Ray Parlour will deck machete-wielding triads outside Hong Kong strip clubs, but if he does, you'll hear all about it in our free weekly email.
It's a 3 minute rundown of football's funniest stories.
We often joke that French football is just a sordid sexual psychodrama.
And this week has been no exception.
From porn stars shagging in stadium toilets to FA bosses begging colleagues for threesomes, welcome to another utterly ordinary week in French football...
Ligue 1 side Nice are investigating after porn stars filmed an x-rated video in the stadium toilets during a recent game.
The clip shows a woman luring a "random" fan to the cubicle for a bonk.
Where could be more romantic than the piss-soaked bogs of the home end?
Everyone's (least) favourite dirty dog Nöel Le Gräet has been up to his old tricks.
The French FA boss is currently under investigation for grabbing junior employees' thighs and sending them filthy texts.
Wayne Rooney's recent team talk about his "tiny knob" capped off an incredibly weird, sexually charged, and occasionally glorious career for the legendary striker.
From shagging grannies to spiking his teammates with Viagra, here's a recap of Wazza's wildest antics...
2002: After landing his first Everton contract, the shy young striker shuffles into training with global megastars like Francis Jeffers and Tony Hibbert.
But he's not impressed.
"I grew up watching them," he later recalled, but "so quickly I remember thinking 'these are crap.'"
2003: Hacked off at his substandard colleagues, Wayne decides to let off steam.
He's spotted frequenting a £45-a-pop Merseyside brothel, booking in marathon sessions with a rubber-suited granny by the name of 'The Auld Slapper'.
The skies are grey, the pubs are full of Top Gear fans and men with crooked noses are talking about "restoring pride in the jersey". It's Six Nations season.
But amid all the rugger buggery, there's one glaring question: which of the 6 countries has the best anthem?
1. La Marseillaise (France)
A thunderous, martial romp with menacing lyrics that occasionally go too far. e.g. “Water the fields with impure blood".
Can imagine singing it en route to fighting the Austrians. Or guillotining the local priest.
2. Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau (Wales)
The French cook, the Spanish make love, and the Welsh sha... they sing.
Their anthem is an absolute spine-tingler, especially when belted out by 80,000 at the Millennium Stadium, easily the best rugby ground in the world.