Spurs hope to have their new stadium complete by the 2016/17 season. I hope so. I love that area of Tottenham, always have. Its dirty, sleazy, impoverished, crime-ridden, ganged-up, riot-central, policeman-killing wonderful. Ok, I wouldn’t want to live there. Certainly wouldn’t eat a meal there (fish’n’chips kebabs only) and would never get out the car there after dark. But on match days… ahhhh, on match days, its just wonderful. And the day they finally get round to gentrifying it and bringing in the yuppies and they finally open a Starbucks there will be something of a tragedy.

But the stadium is needed and we want it right there. Where its always been. Because we’re Tottenham Hotspur. Not Olympic Park Hotspur, nor Share-of-Wembley Hotspur, nor Milton-fucking-Keynes Hotspur. The sensible thing would be to share a stadium with Arsenal. Like the 2 Milan teams do. But it simply couldn’t happen. Mustn’t happen. What’s a half a billion quid between enemies?

They now reckon that, dispite all the promise of a ‘seamless transfer’ of the old to the new, there’s now talk that the preceding season Spurs may have to turn nomadic for their home games. Something that’s never happened before and that will please the season ticket holders no end.

Some games, big games, Arsenal, Manchester United, Chelsea, may be played at Wembley or in the Olympic Park. Lesser games, LIverpool, Everton, Manchester City, will possibly be at stadiummk. Which is the daft and unpronouncable name of Milton Keynes football ground. And really shit games, Stoke, Sunderland, West Ham (assuming all are in the Premiership then) will be on Hackney Marshes or in the park with sweat shirts for goalposts.

Interesting.

Today is the Grand National. That’s where a bunch of horses run round a track, most of the time without jockeys, and any horse that manages to complete the circuit alive wins a carrot and the punters all take out mortgages on their homes to bet on this ‘great and historical event’. Which is so brutal, barbaric and cruel that they had to cut half the jumps down, make the ditches shallower and ban the riders from using swords. The National is like ‘Gladiator’ for horses.

But its not just about killing horses, there’s a million ways to do that. The Grand National is about getting any fairly fit bird who lives within 50 miles of Liverpool (itself not an easy task), paint them orange, apply half a pound of slap to each face, spray on a skin-tight dress, make them drink champagne whilst wearing ridiculously high heels (counts as ‘multi-taksing’ up there) and get them all screaming at the horses. As if those poor beasts aren’t frightened enough already. The horses, I mean.

My money’s on Kelly McVicar to win the ‘tits out’ competition. Not sure about any horses. Unimportant.

Happy sports day

A xxxx