Arsenal chairman Sir Chips Keswick has sensationally broken his silence on THE burning issue engulfing the Gunners in controversy and conflict.

In a candid, revelatory, inflammatory and often emotional interview, the Arsenal supremo holds no bars in his apposite answers to the crucial questions on the lips of every single irate supporter who ever lived (and quite a few who have pegged it, too).

As enraged Gooners prepared poorly put-together banners calling for the head of under fire manager Arsene Wenger (for yet another protest over his future as boss) for the Premier League match against Manchester United at the Emirates on Sunday, Old Etonian Keswick lifted the lid on exactly how he came to be known by the preposterous name “Chips”.

The Arsenal grandee, appointed in 2013 and who, to date, has not been one to say too much at all of any consequence pertaining to football, or indeed the club of which he is chair, revealed: “When one is schooled at one of the world’s foremost institutions for the purpose of education of the elite, one is forced to immerse oneself in its history, majesty and, of course, age-old traditions.

“One such convention is to have a sobriquet – forgive me, perhaps the working classes will recognise this better described as a nickname – bestowed on one. Well, seeing as you asked one so politely, one shall tell you: one’s came about because one was a veritable term-time jackanapes – a whippersnapper, you might say.

“And, to one’s eternal shame – and much to the chagrin of one’s tutors – one regularly skipped algebra class to frequent Olde Queenie’s Fish ‘n Chips emporium just up the road in Windsor, where one tucked into battered sausage and chips with gusto, and no lack of fervour. There, it’s as simple as that; and nothing to do with the fact that one of one’s middle names is Chippendale, as some unsuspecting folk misguidedly think.

“What? What? The future of Arsene Wenger? My dear boy one is not privy to that kind of information. One is afraid that particular question must be directed to the real kingmaker here in the corridors of power at the Emirates Stadium; a man with whom one has very little contact and miniscule dialogue; our supreme leader, Arsene Wenger. Slip me your number and one will put you on to one of his kowtowing acolytes, an oddly-moustachioed American chap by the name of Kroenke.”