IVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN! WOTCHYA MATE! You’re back! The season officially starts now!
“dear Spud that success is both illusory and ephimeral!”
Yeah, true…but…
WE ARE TOP OF THE LEEEEEEEAAGUE! SING WE ARE TOP OF THE LEEEEEEEAAGUE!!!!!!YEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHH!!!! I had to say that, because it doesn’t happen often.
We’re so used to being the bridesmaid we cannot even begin to contemplate, even thinking about putting the thought together, that at some point, we might want to think about - being the bride.
There’s a factoid mantra that’s being rolled out through every media hole across the land – “the last time Spurs won a consecutive blah of games blah they did the double blah blah…” and then they start drawing comparisons with the legends like Blanchflower and Mackay (– as if there is ANY player in the PL who could rival Blanchflower or Mackay!?) But most of us, talking in pubs, offices and the ye olde super-information highway are diligently sticking to “it can’t last” glances and “ha!ha!ha! hilarious! Top of the league!” smirks but never, ever daring to mention the words “t*p fo*r”. Bizarrely – we’ve got pundits such as Hansen to mention it for us – not a man known for giving away applause so easily (unless of course it’s Liverpool).
We’re just glad we’re not listening to “two points from eight games” this season.
We’re glad we’ve got a second string squad who could easily on their own, get us mid-table.
We’ve got strikers fighting for a position – not fighting to ring red-nose of Manchester or the fat Spanish waiter in Liverpool.
We beat Liverpool….WE BEAT LIVERPOOL! Proper thumped them! And then sang “Self defence you’re ‘avin a laugh!” for good measure by all accounts. And we just about beat West Ham – but we came back, and we beat them. Normally we just lie down or wave our hands in the air or get Pointy to…well…point.
And players left to graze or taken Animal Farm-style off to the glue factory have had ‘Appy ‘Arry’s arm placed fatherly upon their shoulders the words “g’on my son” cockneyed to their ear – and blam! They can play again! Just short of them getting angel wings I suppose rather than shipping them off to Norwich for a season. That may be a romantically painted picture – but you get the drift; the chaff have chuffed off and the wheat brought to the table. And I’m glad to of been proved ‘well wrong’ about Bassong – all I can say is – he must’ve really been fed up at the Barcodes!
“(However should you win the Premiership I've no objections to you putting me up in London for the weekend and buying the booze for the duration
)”
Ha!ha!ha! If we win the Premiership I might have to invite the world!
“T’riffic!”
Gazza