Well, not so much ‘life’ as ‘football’ (as if there’s a difference). Why do we go, why do we watch, why do we agonise over the results, the scores, the league tables, the cups, about our own team and everyone else’s? Why does it bother us that Chelsea win the league but thrills us when Swansea win at the Emirates? Why is my fulfilment psychically linked to Arsene Wenger’s misery? Who did that to me? Or to him?

So many questions. The answer to most of which is ‘I don’t fucking know; its just the way it is’. Its a new take on Renee Descartes’ philosophical proposition: Non cogito ergo Spursi. I don’t think therefore I’m a Spurs fan.

Football’s different in America. Specifically for Chris Christie, the governor of New Jersey and in fact presidential hopeful. If they can widen the doors of the White House a bit. During Chris’s first 5 years as ‘gov’ he frequently attended Giants Stadium (sorry; ‘Metlife Stadium’) to entertain in a box there. Well, he wouldn’t exactly fit in a seat, would he? And during that period he spent $82,500 on ‘snacks’. So his expenses claim. That’s 16,500 a year. $825 a game, assuming 20 games a season (which might only occur if the playoffs are reached), as he watched both the Giants and the Jets there. At 5 bucks a hot dog, that’s 165 a game. Or maybe 80 hotdogs and 80 beers. A few bags of nuts if he got peckish between hot dogs. If he had 9 guests with him that’s still way too much food for anyone to eat.

Chris has now had surgery for weight loss. On the grounds that no-one will vote a Fat Bastard into the White House. It wouldn’t sit right. Much like Chris couldn’t sit right in a normal stadium seat.

And whilst in a Gondola on the Grand Canal on the weekend, in the sunshine, singing Italian opera to Mel as the waves lapped gently (this is metaphorical; Mel fucking hates boats and I hate paying some tosser in a Newcastle shirt 85 Euros to paddle me around for 10 minutes) I received a text from me mate Stoke Vaughan. It was brief, it had an annoying little smiley face and it was very gloating in nature. Spurs had lost, obviously. Had to wait to get back to the hotel to find the full extent of the distress and misery.

And learn that QPR are not only going down but about to become the first victims of the Football Fair Play regulations which will punish them for overspending. Like relegation isn’t enough when you’re paying a Barcelona wage bill and getting a Leyton Orient income. Shame.

So the season comes to its last stages, the end, the finale, the last legs. And for Spurs fans we have the contentment that… the joy of… the reassurance… errrrr…

That it can’t possibly get any worse next year. And even that is possibly overly optimistic.

Lucky I’m a Barca fan.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx