Good morning Ladykillers.
It’s all very well owning lots of stuff on DVD but the umitigated joy of switching the telly on to discover the opening credits of an all time favourite rolling is a gift. Last night I would have merrily agreed to never switch on – that thing we have all our furniture pointed at – ever again.
Enthusiasts for our approach to this tournament must be mentally exhausted from rehearsing the positives to be drawn from the game. There weren’t any. And if anyone trots out the old ‘good to see the yoofsters get a run out line’ they need to have their head examined. From the luxury of their living rooms hundreds of thousands of Tottingham fans will have gone to bed grateful they weren’t paying up to £40 to sit on a cold hard plastic seat watch it.
Did we learn anything? Tough question. Have we had enough of Pav or is it he’s had enough of us? Bassong is a waste of rations and Livermore may need to see a pharmacist this morning as he’s bound to have a rash come up after resting on his laurels for 90 minutes.
Roll on Fulham then.