Good morning ladies. As Spurs sit resplendent in sixth place this mornings blog is brought to you by the will of Allah and some damp sellotape. There is a sense of fragility about this season so far for most sides. Look at us. We get thumped and then do some thumping. That isn’t a status quo, it’s more like having Motley Crue move into your spare room. And you won’t get a better segue than that to then touch upon the curious case of Franco Begbie, also known as Hutton. I haven’t heard a more disingenuous pile of piffle from…
Author: Harry Hotspur
Good afternoon. “There’s players missing, but that’s not far away from our best team, I’m not saying it’s our best team, but there’s enough good players in there to make it very difficult to dislodge them out of our best team. We’re very, very strong and I think we’ve got the makings of a really good side.” That’s what our tight lipped, ashen faced supremo had to say on matters. I’d say this was Wigan, not a Manchester side. As discussed previously, Wigan aren’t very nice at playing football. Heaven only knows what their table manners are like. Good to get…
A pretty damn sound performance. Wigan were like a butch ugly woman who became coarser and even more deeply unattractive with a few ales down her. Another red card against generated by another side that simply could not cope in a coherent or indeed honest fashion with the boy Bale. This was, as has been said at length a big game in terms of Tottingham demonstrating that they had actually made some progress. No, no one like going up there and having to slug it out with part time pipe fitters and doormen moonlighting as Premiership footballers. But sufficiently we did…
Good morning. So here we are once more. Over our shoulder a victory of sizable proportion; the smell of Scouse blood barely gone from the nostrils. Ahead of us a shower of a team that on paper we ought beat by five goals or more. But will we? The defining characteristic of last season and indeed seasons before that has been the inability to sustain the vaguest consistency. Dances with Scones is staring down the blade of a scalpel and The Times report that Tommy’s ankle needs to be ‘opened up again.’ Ouch. No only horrible but surely surgery to…
Guten Abend. This won’t go down well (that’s what she said) with some but it comes from a depressingly decent source. Answer me this. Is there a thing, a device more transparent in the known world than that of Arry Redschnapps? I think not. If you ask any Spurs fan who our striker coach is they will all answer with the same name. Les Ferdinand. So why does Arry raise the issue HERE??? “although we already have Les Ferdinand who comes in to help our strikers” “Comes in to help our strikers” – Sorry Arry, comes in to help?…
Good afternoon. I’m finding the attitude of some Tottingham fans laughable. And that’s as generous as I’m going to get. Tell me, just what is your position on cups these days? I mean do they still hold any appeal at all? I was recently accused (no really it happened, some boys pointed at me, said something then pegged it) of being some dreadful type who expected to win every game 5-0. An immediate gratification merchant. This was in response to the fact that I dared to acknowledge the truth that watching our Yoofsters and second stringers I find [A]…
When Mick Rathbone signed for Birmingham City as a 16 year-old apprentice he was living every schoolboy’s dream. But when he discovered he was so nervous he was unable to speak, let alone pass the ball, in the presence of his boyhood hero and City star Trevor Francis, he realised that a career in football might not be everything he had imagined. The Smell of Football is the brutally honest and utterly compelling story of how ‘Baz’ conquered his personal demons to build a life in the game – from the terrified teenager who purposely tried to get injured in training rather…
Still on for the treble then. Good morning born again wireless enthusiasts. I trust you all rounded off your evening’s aural entertainment with a warming cup of Ovaltine and a fistful of mogadons. In fairness to the radio johnnies they captured the mood perfectly .Their minds wandered towards anything that was more interesting than the game. The fact that the hot water boiler at the Brittania was kaput so no tea (how they yearned for milk and two shugs) and the early departure of gentleman sporting an comb over to rival that of George Roper’s. So only 1500 odd Tottingham…
Good awning. With the weather as unpredictable as it has demonstrated itself to be of late a stout piece of reliable tarpaulin may prove itself invaluable. And then there was Stoke. The first question in any interrogation is to the questioner who needs to ask his or herself (ooh stop, it’s not lunchtime yet) how important the matter is. The much ‘debated’ issue of fielding children over adults has been somewhat at the fore on here of late. Stoke were put up as prime example of a side that caught out, spreading themselves too thinly. By contrast, BMJ’s Fulham by…