An amazing thing happened yesterday whilst we were up in Scotland. For just the fourth time this year, for the first time since August, Spurs won a home game. I shall have to go to Scotland more often. Obviously. My fault entirely. I should have realised that the problem was not ‘dodgy manager’, not ‘shitty players with mental health issues’, not ‘a fucking useless team so intent on total capitulation that if they’re not in the pay of far-eastern gambling syndicates they bloody should be’. But it’s me. They can’t win with me in the country. As my mate, The Legend, claimed last week, I’m a bok. But it’s not him, it’s obviously me. I’m the bok. A word to describe a superstition with meaning only in a sporting situation. A ‘curse’. A ‘bad omen’. A bok. So I made the ultimate sacrifice and crossed the border on the 10am train from Kings Cross, to ensure I’d be out of the country by kick-off time. A move which paid obvious dividends.

I’m applying to the Spurs Supporters Club for subsidy so that for the next home game I’ll be in Rio. The following one in Thailand and the rest of the home fixtures to be arranged with Secret Escapes.com.

Richarlison scored. Amazing. And Xavi Simons broke his duck and for the first time showed some of the promise we paid over 50 million quid for in the summer. Apparently played a blinder. But we won, at home, Joey was there (he’s no bok) and best of all…

Arsenal lost. Which should mean absolutely nothing to me, I have no particular allegiance to Aston Villa, other than they’re my future king’s team, but it does. Last kick of the game. That hurts.

And thus all hell breaks loose at Liverpool as their disastrous season plummets to un-previously-plummeted-depths of despair and plummetation. Mo Salah was dropped for the whole game, Leeds get a 96th minute equaliser and Mo comes out ranting against his manager. About being ‘thrown under the bus’ by Slott to explain the Red’s abysmal season. Which, disloyal as it sounds, rude and nasty as it was, horrible accusatory as it appeared; was pretty much true. ‘We’re shit’, Arne says, ‘it’s Mo’s fault. In Holland we never trust an Egyptian’. And thus the hero of all of the good things to have happened in Anfield and environs for the past decade, has been relegated to scapegoat. Will he ever walk again? Not necessarily onto that pitch, to that song one feels.

But watch out for Man City. And… Aston Villa! Could Unai Emery finally realise the potential that he’s really always had lurking under the surface?

(Very) Happy Sunday

A xxxx