The Tottenham Prophecy - Part One
Tuesday, August 9, 2011 at 2:18PM guest blog by Chris King / @NorthernWrites
In some of the most exciting news to reach Dear Mr Levy in years, we can exclusively reveal that a manuscript written by the original ITK, Nostradamus, has been found lying amongst the rubble of the Tottenham riots.
We have employed a crack team of weirdoes, heretics, believers and Benoit Assou-Ekotto to decipher the manuscript, as we are confident that this was the last great work of the infamous seer – devoted solely to the fortunes of Tottenham Hotpur’s 2011/12 season.
Some of the writing is vague in patches. We have had to assume that passages that refer to the “silver merchant” could be attributed to both Luka Modric and Harry Redknapp – though he does also refer to a “sun god” which is quite clearly a nod to Harry’s tie in with that filthy rag he “writes” for. He also refers to the “man-ass” of which we assume he means donkey. We have had to take the context of which the phrase appears within, and guess which of our fringe players he is referring to. Robbie Keane is mentioned once and once only at the start of the piece.
Please note. As this is the ramblings of an ITK – who once predicted that Queen Elizabeth the first would join Real Madrid at the time of the Spanish Armada – some of it may not actually come to pass. Only Bryan Swanson can really make this prophecy happen.
Here is part one of the manuscript translated in full:
“It is the year of our lord, Sir Bill Nicholson, two thousand and eleven – a great disturbance will herald the start of the new battle season in the capital parish of Tottenham. Flames will lick at the base of the castle. The absolute monarch will summon his people to abandon their fortress and to look to all four points of the compass for salvation - yet find only disquiet and rebellion from the landowners that mark the boundary of his castle.
The dictator and his sun god will, with great difficulty, try to reinforce their army of knights. A number of their men will be blighted by an illness that affects their ability to take to the battlefield (our scholars have read this as a series of players are rubbish and won’t get a game this season). The one from the green isle will find his first true love was not whom he thought them to be, settling in to the bosom of another. He will leave the castle, hopefully never to return.
The eighth month is one of upheaval and turmoil. The silver merchant, who has been held captive against the wishes of his money men, finds clear passage through the smouldering carcass of the local village. There he agrees to meet the horseman of the neighbouring landowner (here we assume this means helicopter of Abramovich). However his plan is foiled - as in a desperate attempt to find work, a repugnant ass-man alerts the dictator – who immediately shackles the silver merchant until such a time when ransom is paid. The ass-man finds work tending the reserve field with the young of the village. He is to die a lonely death. That or move to a village that has recently had its status upgrade from that of a hamlet (Bentley will train with the kids until Swansea panic and sign him on the cheap).
The proud cock (hazy, though we think this is Spurs rather than Levy or Redknapp) will face two armies from the wet lands of the North. A visit to the money men who engage in the outcome of dice games will favour a defeat for our travelling army, whilst out fortress will remain intact when challenged by an array of barbarians, those of ancient Rome and tribal folk from the land of Columbus.
The sun god will be prepared to sacrifice the lame and youthful amongst the village as our army travels once across the wall of Hadrian. Here they will fight the army of Vlad, the mad tyrant from the east. Should they return as one, they will be sent back to the reserve fields – to tend to their wounds, of a physical and mental variety, until such a time when the army full of heart, but little fighting skill, challenges them on the flat lands of their own village.
The dictator tries to move a weakened tower from view of the villagers. Alas the foundations are too weak and therefore it must stay (Crouch till Christmas at least then).
The ninth month will see our weakened army besieged by animals rather than human foe. We will first fight with wolves and then liver birds, before facing up to the most fearsome animal of them all – the outspoken dictator. The sun god will make proclamation that this lunar period will show that three Is equal one I and an X. So it has been said, so it will not come to pass.
The lame and young will once again be called in to battle, this time against evil from across the water (either this is in reference to playing someone like Crystal Palace or Millwall in the League Cup, or Nostradamus is confident we will still be in Europe).
Memories of the silver merchant have now long since vanished from the corridors of our majestic castle. He will forever ply his trade in the richest market squares of the known world – toiling with haste but no profit as he sees foreign dominions flourishing in their trade of silver. He will soon move on to tin and scrap iron. No longer loved – the path he follows will finally end in Columbus land.
Sir Pav, of the once great nation of Romans, does take to sitting on the side of battlefields with grimace etched across his face. His brow as furrowed as the Wigan Athletic pitch.
The tenth month sees the return of the valiant knight who leads the army but once a week, and never against a lesser village or hamlet. His steed will buckle under the weight of expectation, and he will be sent once more to the sorcerers house for ointment, potion and prayers for recovery (at least we’ll get one game out of Ledley before Christmas).
The sun god will pay close attention to the fortunes of the Crusaders, who will fight one more battle before heading east to take on the barbarians of Europa. The scribes will present him with the purple cloak of a dictator. Should the sun god appear too comfortable in this cloak, the village elders will be quick to tarnish his name across the land. (Will the FA really make Harry the ruler of all England?)
This lunar period will see two battles fought both on land and in voice, as the proud cock will vanquish those false gods of displaced power and money. Those loud yet damaged guns originally from across the water, and the peasants who found a rich seam of gold upon their land, will be no match for the army of the sun god. The battle will rage heard, yet it will be the true villagers of this London parish that will use diagrams, beacons and evensong (we think he means the internet, twitter and radio phone in shows) to mock those fallen soldiers from local parishes.
Lord Jermain, honourable knight of the Jews, does at last fire canon straight and true.
Come the eleventh month, and come yet more proclamation from the sun god. For here he will lean to the scribes and town criers and inform them merrily that there are five stronger castles than that of his chosen parish. That he will need his dictator to scour the lands of the Gauls, Goths, Romans and Barbarians in pursuit of taller, faster, stronger knights than he has at his disposal. That he has instructed the sorcerers to put hex ‘pon the ass-men of the village and that he has Goth magic to ensure the valiant knight is ready to take to the battlefield once the winter solstice has passed.
The battles rage on, but are less brutal – less need to be applied to tapestry, more forgotten as soon as the army leaves the field. If the sun god takes eyes from his assailants, then these are battles that can quite easily be lost - for it is these battles that so do regularly cripple the chances of his army – reducing the position of our castle to that of sixth highest tower in the land. The wider village seek knowledge of only one result – that from the battle with the stuffed pigs of Egyptian rule. For a local fight stirs the loins like no other, keeping spirit and hope alive in these darkened times.
Gaul-ass (French Donkey?) does proclaim a lack of spirit in both our fight and our foes and makes comment as to his future at this time".
In part two – the dictator and sun god do battle over whom best should spearhead the army’s attack – preferably a small Columbus land knight with Roman heritage but based in the land of the moors. And the silver merchant does return to pick pocket, but leave shame faced once more.
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Reader Comments (6)
You sir, have too much time on your hands!
1st
Hear, Hear, surely you must have spent too much time on the poppy fields of Papua New Guinea (if indeed such fields exist yonder) or was it Colombia and delusions appear to have the better of you....
Get back to real world soon Chrissy boy!!!
Can everyone please have an early death in part two; preferably in the first paragraph ;-)
Like.
"The dictator tries to move a weakened tower from view of the villagers. Alas the foundations are too weak and therefore it must stay (Crouch till Christmas at least then)". I really hope "Nostradamus" is wrong.
....@Gaul-ass. Lol!
A battle for the last line of defence will ensue on the morrow betwixt the eight-armed accident prone bean pole and the elder baldyman. They will be forced to share the spoils.