Ok, we’ve done without football for long enough. It feels like fucking July round here. Ok, its a bit colder, nights a bit earlier, mornings a bit bleaker, frost a bit thicker, but the lack of proper football is interminable and awful. How can they do that? WHY can they do that?? Its abuse. It infringes my human rights. All that ‘friendly international’ bollox. Its not right. Its not real. Its rubbish. We need Premiership and we need it NOW.
Ok, we’re getting it but really… really…

I even had every intention (oh, that ‘road of good intentions’ is a slippery place) of gloating about the cricket, of paying to have “I ‘heart’ Stuart Broad” tattooed on every Australian in the land, but that’s all gone to shit now, dammit.

So we’re back. Football. Aaaaahhhhhhh.

And yet, and yet… its rather depressing. As if we didn’t have enough problems at Spurs, we’re playing Manchester City at just the ‘wrong time’ (don’t ask; I’m thinking when a ‘good time’ might be and can only come up with ‘when they’re all sleeping’) just as they’re shaking off the dodgy form of the early season, at least when they’re at home. Away they’re the shitty rubbish everyone wants them to always be, but at home they can be awesome. Even though they’re a bunch of overpaid mercenary gypsy types who define ‘home’ as the place where they pay you the most. Oddly, Spurs are better away from home. The Lane has been the place of two horribly tragic disappointments (so far) this season and will doubtless be witness to more wrist-slitting agony as the term progresses.
But I shall remain upbeat, optimistic, filled with hope and expectation and prozac and valium. Same old same old.

Arsenal play Southampton, 1st vs 3rd, bizarrely, and we want the Saints to win so we can stop the Goons from running away with the league. And we want West Ham to beat Chelsea (trust me; its political and pragmatic, not personal; both are hateful) Liverpool and Everton to draw because both are above us in the table (becoming less an exclusive club every week, sadly) and we want Cardiff to beat Manchester United because it will make Bridge-Meister Clive the happiest man in north London, at least until someone makes a slam against him.

The rest of the matches are irrelevant. I can’t be concerned with ‘that end of the table’. Not yet anyway. Few more weeks I may be very interested in it. But for now the battle for 6th place is all that is of interest to me and to those others who know right from wrong, good from evil, their lilywhites from their reds.

Spurs MUST WIN.
Not like 2 weeks ago, the week before that, next weekend, no, nothing like that at all. Though I’ve never heard anyone refer to a ‘must lose’ game ever.
Nothing else matters. This is more important than anything. Even if they find Ed Milliband was the gay lover of a drug-taking fat old bank chief…
well, that would be fun, but this is really important.

Come on you Spurs

Happy Saturday

A xxxx