Football happened. And we won. Incredible how happy that makes me. Because this was a victory for Spurs, thus for me, for Antonio Conte, our money-chasing super-manager who threatens to leave every time we lose, for Harry Kane, because he’s special in a very special way, for Sonny because he’s wonderful, for all the people in the world and for GOD HERSELF (oooh, that’s controversial) in whose name Spurs play!

In what many have described as ‘the greatest victory since Spurs last won’, my boys ran rampant in the second half after choosing to rest in the first. A tactic which proved astute as Palace’s failure to capitalise on their dominant spell left it wide open for a Spurs team who’ve scored 73% of their goals this year in the second periods of their matches.

All we have to do now is repeat that in our next two league matches against Arsenal and Manchester City. How hard can that be?

I may have complained a little, ‘last year’, about the World Cup. Qatar. Human rights, the slaughter of the workers, the persecution of the gays, blah, blah, blah… and having the tournament in the winter!!! Never has such a thing ever been considered. Nor been required, in ‘normal countries’, where camels don’t live. But if I’d have known the consequences, I’d have been the biggest advocate and ambassador for that lovely Gulf state. Because it means we’re now playing catch-up. All the matches missed during the 6-week gap. Resulting in football, on tv, every night. I’m campaigning for the next tournament to be in Dubai.

And a word about the Pope wot died. Not the current one (white haired old foreign geezer in a dress), but the previous one (white haired old foreign geezer in a dress). How is the world going to mourn properly if you die at the same time as Pele? He’s taken all the world’s compassion, sympathy and obituary-space. I don’t even know if the old Pope ever played football, let alone who he might have played for, but he can’t compete with Pele.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx