‘Twenty-two years,” said the father to his son, shaking his head reflectively. “Twenty-two effing years.” Standing outside the Emirates Stadium among an ever-growing crowd, he was not alone in trying to get a handle on his feelings. Arsenal had just won their first league title in a generation, after all.

From the moment Eli Junior Kroupi gave Bournemouth a first-half lead over Manchester City, the red part of north London was preparing to party. Arsenal’s only rivals for the title had to win to take their duel to the final day. A half-time deficit was not a good start. The landlord of the gridlocked Gunners pub on Blackstock Road had a glass of champagne in his hand, though it may have been something to do with the prospective takings.

Over in the Tollington, the pub closest to Arsenal’s home of the past 18 years, there was similar confidence in the outcome, even when City equalised in second-half added time. “It’s just two minutes, just two minutes, they’re going to do it!” insisted one girl to her brother as they stood transfixed by the pictures on an iPad hung from the gate of the venue.

She was right, of course, and the moment the final whistle was blown and Arsenal fans could end their vicarious support for the Cherries, the streets erupted. “Set piece again olé olé” was the chant, with a bit of the old “Arr-se-nal” mixed in for good measure. People were spilling all over the road, car horns were blaring, Deliveroo riders were pulling up to join in the festivities.

From there, a procession emerged and moved straight towards the ground. It came from any number of directions – and by 10pm, the Emirates and its surrounding avenues were standing room only. There were pyros being let off in the centre, while people sat politely on the flanking stairs. A mosh pit apparently sparked up for a moment, though it turned out to be fans escorting Ian Wright through the throng. Gunnersaurus also made an appearance; anything seemed possible.

“I don’t think it’s sunk in yet, really,” said Xavier, a twentysomething fan with a view of the stadium from his flat window whose father had placed him on the waiting list for a season ticket from the age of five (he still doesn’t have one). “It’s hard to get a grasp on what they’ve achieved. The season itself has been such a slog, but the league is so tough. I think [the success] will be looked back on very differently to how people have lived it.”

Jaden is another lifelong fan, whose first memories are of Thierry Henry, Robert Pires and “Jens Lehmann – he was my guy”. He said: “I feel absolutely great now. It’s been so many years of just constant banter, all the talk: ‘Arsenal’s never going to do it, you’re not good enough.’ And now we’ve done it. I think we’ll hold on to it for a while now and I’m delighted for Mikel Arteta. He’s come in, he’s stuck to his guns, and he’s done it.”

There were more stories, such as the three young women from New Zealand who had been living round the corner for the past three years and become swept up in the vicissitudes of Arsenal’s quest for success. Or the boy on the shoulders of his dad, still dressed in his Sonic the Hedgehog pyjamas, presumably having been hoicked from his bed shortly before. As the night progressed, there were more people hitting the streets and heading out to celebrate.

Arsenal’s success has not always been anticipated keenly by rival supporters, and such is the febrile culture that exists around modern football in England that any halo around this triumph may not last for too long. But on this night, it was impossible not to get carried along by the unadulterated joy bursting on to the streets. Young, old, male, female, black, white and all in between; the achievements of 11 men trying to stick a ball in a net had lit any number of lives. That moments of such great happiness don’t come along often is a lesson learned by Arsenal fans. On this night, they were set to make the most of it.