Listen, there’s only so much time and space and energy I can devote to international wars of potentially catastrophic consequences, to deaths, murders, tyrants and inept Prime Ministers unable to send our nation’s one and only boat over to save the Cypriots from invasion or devastation. It gets boring .And quite frankly, there are more important things than world wars.

There’s football.

Generally.

More specifically, there is the match tonight at White Hart Lane which will have more impact on the future of the world (well, my world) than all the bombs in Tehran. Than all the submarines in Sri Lanka. This match is more important than…

Jeffrey Epstein!!!

If you look at the league table, above, (well, the bottom third, the important bit), you will observe the following:

Wolves are gone. Recent change of fortunes may temporarily flatter, but only in the way that a fabulous manicure can flatter a great fat smelly ugly person. (Use of the word ‘bird’ was banned by this site in 1987).

Burnley the same. No hope. Much as I love Scotty Parker, they’ve sadly come up way short of the mark. Too little, too late.

So there’s one relegation slot up for grabs. And the contenders are: West Ham, the favourites, (well, ‘my’ favourites) to go down, but now level on points with Nottingham Forest. Last night the Hammers beat Fulham and Forest amazingly drew with Man City. Doing no-one any favours. Except Arsenal. And possibly Nottingham Forest.

One point above those two sit Spurs. I’d like to remind you all that Tottenham Hotspur are officially a ‘top 6 club’, even though they sit in the bottom 5. We are ‘Champions League, top 6’!!! That we are a ‘big club’, as defined by the size and quality of our stadium and the amazing amount of cash that we never spend on decent players. In any measure of dicks, we are hung like an elephant. Except if that measure includes success on the pitch.

Above Spurs, by just 2 points lie Leeds United. Who you simply have to hate, because they’re from Yorkshire. And three points above them are Crystal Palace. The team coming to Spurs tonight. And, tantalisingly, the last team Spurs actually beat. Back at Christmas. When Joey, Tory-boy and I watched it in Tenerife, celebrating like… like people celebrate when they are greatly relieved.

If we win, we rise to a lofty 15th place, above Leeds and four points clear of West Ham and Forest. But if we don’t…

Those two teams have both reached that place and time where they ‘have to play well’ (a condition that you would imagine ALL teams reach, ALL the fucking time) and have risen to their respective occasions. Whilst Spurs, on current form, are the worst team in the league. Not yet psychologically realising the nature of their situation to the extent that they’re playing like the grossly overpaid ‘superstars’ they were bought for. Rather than playing like fat, ugly birds with painted nails.

Without sounding too ‘west side story’: Its all about ‘tonight’. We win, or we’re fucked.

God help us. Even though he’s abandoned us for the last 2 years.

BIG Thursday,

A xxx