I want to talk about football. About my team. About Tottenham. And about injustice. About evil forces. About a lack of a supreme diety. And about Lila. Because she was there. So we need to include ‘child abuse’ in Tottenham’s list of failures and crimes. No child should have to be made to suffer like that. No adult should.

Because for the second time in just a few weeks, Spurs have played a hapless, hopeless, ‘bottom-3’ team who’ve ‘not won a game this season’ and strutted in there to kindly, benevolently, considerately, charitably, gift them their first collective 3-point bonus of the term. We did it at Crystal Palace and enjoyed the wonderful, warm feeling of ‘giving’ so much, we repeated it at home yesterday.

Because Ipswich Town may have had a fabulous season last term with their ‘automatic promotion’ and having beaten Rotherham AND Plymouth in the process (I’m guessing, I really have no idea what goes on in the ‘lower leagues’) but now they’re with the ‘big boys’ and its tough at the top. Well, it should be.

What should happen is that these inbred arrivistes from East Anglia, even with Ed fucking ‘vanilla-man’ Sheeran cheering them on, arrive at the most impressive stadium in the world, be immediately cowed and intimidated by the vast crowd and incredible facilities, by the fact that most of the people arrive in cars rather than tractors or donkeys, actually have credit cards which they didn’t steal (the ground is totally ‘cashless’) and then collectively, metaphorically, bend over and get completely shafted by our vast array of multi-cultured, urbane mega-stars. 7-nil to Spurs, three points in the bag, a total ‘reality check’, thank you very much you can now fuck off back to Ipswich.

Lila had her face painted in the Spurs shop in preparation for the post-match celebrations (held in the car on the way home because we generally leave at about 6-nil, to ‘get the jump’ on the other 62,391 people).

But alas, it was not to be. Someone didn’t read my script. Someone, possibly after eating an excess of Indian food the previous night, ‘shat on my parade’. Ange Postecoglou stood up and claimed responsibility but it didn’t help me. Didn’t help me then and didn’t help me when my (gooner, obviously) window cleaner came in with a great grin on his face. Because even though his team haven’t won in the last 5 matches; we’re worse. Much worse.

So from now its Brighton all the way. Well, why not? I’ve had about 60 years of this and it hurts. Its so frustrating and annoying I don’t want to play any more.

(Un)Happy Monday

A xxxx