Open letter sent to the chairman, via SSN

Not exactly a masterpiece this one, just a summary of recent blogs. It's also very tv-friendly. The chaps on SSN have been reading extracts from this all morning. I know. I feel dirty using SKY to get my message across, but Daniel never answers my correspondence so I was left with no choice but to use the pure unadulterated evil that is Murdoch's propaganda machine.

Dear Mr Levy,

We are football supporters, and not appreciators of accountancy. You might be good at keeping the clubs finances healthy, but in pure footballing matters you lack the edge that is required to help push the club forward. Too many times in your reign you have failed to step up when it mattered most. When we sat 4th in the table for four months, you failed to strengthen the side that surely would have helped cement Champions League football long before the final game of the season at Upton Park.

You and Comolli have never truly replaced Carrick or sought to finally end the left-wing draught with a genuine left-wing purchase. Look at all the top clubs that compete for honours. They have grafters, generals and grit. We have Jermaine Jenas and Didier Zokora. Why do you always feel the need to buy superfluous players like Bentley when what we need so desperately is a defensive midfielder? Your handling of the Berbatov saga was the final nail in the coffin.

You always knew he would be sold, it was a dead cert, but rather than setting a deadline and price at the start of the summer you preferred to wait until the final seconds. Resulting in us taking a Utd kid on loan. The irony must be lost on you.

As for Pavlyuchenko. £14M for a player who can't speak the language. Has already played several months of Russian league football and doesn't even look 75% fit. He's cup-tied for the UEFA Cup and....this is the bit that takes the biscuit.....he is a similar type of player to Darren Bent which is why we are playing with one up-front.

How exactly is this NOT a panic buy? The lad, on form, will score goals - but was he the signing we needed to replace either Keane or Berbatov? Much like there was no reason to buy Bent when we did. And no reason to sell Defoe. The decision making is criminal.

You've created a mess that Laurel and Hardy would be proud of.

Please have a word with Joe Lewis (who owns ENIC) and stick the club up for sale.

Yours Sincerely,

Spooky

Dear Mr Levy........I'm conflicted

Gone midnight, September 2nd.

Dear Mr Levy,

I’m conflicted. I can’t seem to make up my mind whether everything that’s happened falls on the side of good or abject disdain. As I sit here in the dirt, I find myself thinking if I’ve actually, in some misguided way, done you a favour. Was I better off just letting things run their course to help cement your legacy to the bottom of the sea of failure? Or was I right to be pro-active, stopping the car and it's driver from reaching the Lodge? Am I seeing this from the wrong perspective? Is there an unbinding connection between the two of us? Are you Palpatine to my Skywalker? And if so, why is Jar Jar Binks our director of football?

My car is parked down the road, a safe distance from your home. The boot is locked. And what’s in it is safe and sound, and still breathing. Though will need to be returned to it's rightful owner later on. I’ve been sat here in the hedge, camouflaged, for about an hour. Green paint covering my face. I’ve been contemplating, reciting passages from The Art of War by Sun Tzu. Helps me meditate. But now I find myself whispering into my microphone, dictating my thoughts. My trusted PSP-10 Cybereye second generation multi-purpose night vision system with head-mountable (cushioned for comfort) and additional camera-adaptable, c/w 2 stage IR illuminator functionality allows me to see through the darkness and into your kitchen window as you make your cup of Earl Gray. This might not be Baghdad, but I know how a reconnaissance marine must feel when they are this close to an enemy. The desire to strike down evil is strong. But I resist. My mind uncertain.

I’m using the hands-free on my Cybereye to zoom. It’s definitely the best value for money NVG on the market. Although battery life could be better. And some kind of anti-squirrel alert mechanism would be handy. Vicious little buggers. Boy do they cry like bitches when they get dicked with pepper-spray. Ever since that incident at the Lodge with Berbatov and the squirrels, I’ve had them on my case. I think squirrels everywhere have issued a Fatwā on me for kidnapping some of their brethren and force-feeding them Red Bull as part of my unsuccessful attempt to induce injury on Dimitar, in Operation Nuts.

Sorry. Side-tracked. All is quiet. It’s 02:13 am. It’s a peaceful night. I think it’s starting to rain. I still have a little bit of coffee left. Not that you would care, all comfy and warm indoors. Sitting in your lush kitchen, dunking your ginger nut biscuit into your tea, in your red and white pyjamas, plugging in your laptop. Why do you look so smug? Have we been successful on this final day of the transfer window? Have we? I’m not asking you that question, I’m asking myself. Because I don’t know whether to use my midi-chlorians for the greater good and force you out or to simply embrace the dark side and help the club, even if it means helping you avoid disaster.

Let’s start with Sunday.

Chelsea v Spurs.

A lucky 1-1 survival at the impenetrable Stamford Bridge. Bent once again on his own upfront. Zokora, the enforcer, in a 5-man midfield that included Bentley, Gio, Modric and Jenas in his usual position. So, a 4-man midfield. The defence was tight. The keeper more than capable. But the midfield once more unbalanced resulting with Bent having to make do with his shadow as a partner, heading the ball from Gomes long kicks to nobody. In the first half, we were ineffective. Like an erect porn star with no testicles, where was the moneyshot going to come from?

In that same half, the opening goal came from Bent slicing the ball into the path of Belletti who scored and our equalizer came from Lampard directing the ball into the path of Bent who slotted it in. Darren with an assist and a goal. Not bad for a man on his own, isolated and alone. In the second 45, did we dig deep and defend well to frustrate them or did they simply perform poorly and due to our complete lack of inventiveness and urgency, failed to capitalise in any shape or form?

For all of Zokora’s running around, one misplaced through-ball and he looks to the ground, ignoring the fact that there's still a ball to win back. There he stood, staring at the ground where he lost the ball. Waiting for it to open up and eat you Didier? We live in hope. Tactical changes, we saw Lennon came on for Gio and Huddlestone for Gunter, which resulted with Jenas slipping into the right-back position. It was like watching Duncan Edwards. At least the second half resulted with Modric supporting Bent a little more effectively. All a little bit better than the first. But not great.

Two mistakes, two goals, score draw. Second from bottom in the table. One point from a possible nine. 50 goal front pair partnership gone. Wonderful stuff three games in.

Pavlyuchenko wasn’t signed in time to play in the derby. But apparently he’s injured. Great signing then. A player who has scored some goals in Russia in the past couple of years and a brace against England and three in the Euro’s. Doesn’t sound like you’ve done much scouting on this one, have you? Just watched a bit of tv recently. Will he compliment Bent? Is he a replacement for Keane? What does he do exactly? Can he play in the Premiership? Is he suited to the English game? How long is he going to take to settle? Will he be able to give us what Keane gave us? Or Berbatov for that matter? What’s his first touch like? Does he have tricky feet? Why hasn’t he scored yet? What’s wrong with this bloke? £14M for a player who seems incapable of answering any of these questions from the off. His name is too long for him to be any good. Did someone say Rebrov? No, then I’ll say it. Rebrov. Rebrov. Rebrov. Rebrov. Rebrov. Rebrov. Just slightly taller, not Ukrainian, but with the same goofy smile. And more expensive.

And don’t think I’m going to skip pass Didier Sickora’s new contract, much like most players skip past his non-existent presence in the centre-circle. You offered this sham a new improved four year contract? Does he have pictures of you in a sexually prerogative pose with your car’s exhaust pipe? He joined us from St Etienne following some fine displays at the World Cup. Those are your words from the official site. Some fine displays. Can you possibly define that for me? Did we sign Zokora because Comolli and your good self thought:

“Mmmm, ok, we lack an engine – a true midfield warrior with a silk touch. We don’t have a Gerrard or an Essien, and we sold Carrick to Utd and we keep failing at stealing other clubs academy players whom we can then develop into world class players, so let’s really go all out here. Let’s fill a hole that has turned into a pit of mediocrity by spending some money on a...wait for it...yes, you got that right....a fine player. Yes, a fine player. Not an excellent player. Definitely not a potentially brilliant player. No time for experienced and proven either. We need a fine player. Only needs to have had a handful of fine games. Because that’s what’s missing from our midfield. Doesn’t need to be capable of passing, its fine. As long as he can give free kicks away in dangerous areas, and has that fineability factor we so desperately lack need”.

Liverpool have the dynamic goal-scoring Gerrard. Utd have the orchestral Carrick and the hard-working Hargreaves. Chelsea have the sublime Essien and we have the fine Zokora who had some fine games in a World Cup. Even Arsenal have a better DM than us and they don’t actually have one. What does Zokora do? He runs with the ball in a straight line then shoots widely over the bar. He’s not too far off 100 appearances for Spurs and in that time he is best remembered for that miss at Wembley. We’ve spent a lot of money on Modric – so how can we expect him to blossom and begin to create and score if he has to look over his shoulder in case Zokora tackles him by mistake? Adding Jenas into the same midfield is just taking the fucking piss. That’s like two Zokora’s lined-up to help you out. No wonder Modric looks so pale and fragile. He can’t sleep or eat, all nervous and scared. A day earlier, Kaboul was clearing a certain goal off the line for his new club. Take that Comolli! Four years and counting, your search goes on.

We won’t win a thing with a lightweight midfield. Grit, determination and steel. A holy trinity that has evaded us for the past 30 years. Can that possibly change before midnight, September 2nd?

Do I have time to talk about Jenas? Of course I do. Let me talk about Jenas while you browse the ‘net and enjoy your tea. Reliable. Professional. Disciplined. Vice-captain of Tottenham. Ramos is apparently ‘bringing the best football out of him’. A major improvement in form since the Spaniards arrival. Twenty-four year old Jenas. Still young. An untouchable.

Let me tell you something about Jenas. The greatest trick he ever pulled was convincing the world he existed.

Reliable? Reliably inconsistent.
Professional? So is Titus Bramble.
Disciplined? In the art of choking.
Vice-captain? Poster-boy.

Jenas is all hype. The epitome of our club. Our heartbeat, the foundation of what the team should be built on has two players in key positions made of plastic, melting under the spotlight.

But maybe it’s not all down to Jenas and Zokora. Berbatov’s bad influence has been cited by Ramos, and rejected by Woodgate. Mixed up the hymn sheets there chaps? Also, the gospel according to Juande, has Chelsea down as built to be champions or contenders in every trophy they care to enter, signing top-echelon stars from any team in the world, true cream of the crop stuff. And that we are not in their league. We are in a different league. Two clubs moving in slightly different directions. An admittance of frustration? I’m sure Ramos is laying in his bed wondering what happened to that expected flurry of furious transfer action before the window closed a few hours ago. I know I am.

Corluka, who actually passed a medical and wore a Spurs shirt for publicity photos a few weeks back finally, officially, signed on the dotted line. Cometh a new right-back to add to Hutton and Gunter. Who can also play in midfield and at centre-back. Not very well going by the tonkings City have got when he’s played outside of the RB position. £8.5M to ease Modric into London life? Where will he play once Hutton is back from injury is a mystery. I’d slot him into the DM position. Hell, why not? May as well give it a go. Got no one else.

Hmm. IP masking and proxy servers. Bit techie aren’t you Daniel? What are you browsing that amuses you so much? Need to move a little to the left, and zoom in for a better look.

So going into the final day, we found ourselves needing a DM and two forwards. Arshavin has now disposed Diego on the ‘most epic of epic Spurs transfer sagas’ list. It’s on, off, on, off, on, off, on, off. Zenit purchase Danny Miguel for £24M. On, off, on, off. There is utterly no point in trying to run through a timeline of events concerning this summer fiasco. Zenit, moving the goal posts on the value of their player. Spurs, on the face of it, ducking out of paying a few extra million. The player quoted as wanting to join us having spoken to Ramos. Agent talk that the deal is alive. And so onwards again with off, on, off, on, off, on. Never can you trust club officials to speak the truth, much like agents. So we were left in the hands of the ITK’s posting their information on message boards, everyone praying that the deal would go through.

‘Arshavin is 97.45% done. Actually, it’s more 97.22%, but if you’re in GMT then consider it 98.23% when the clock strikes quarter past now. Agent confident. We’ve made a bid. Medical the problem, due to time constraints. He’s apparently in Russia, where I’ve been informed, Zenit are based, but don’t quote me on that. 82% certainty of Zenits current location’.

Then Zenit tell everyone no deal. But apparently, they are fibbing. The ITK’s still claimed it was going to happen. Bid was made, but rejected. Spurs had apparently missed the window of opportunity to seal the deal. A three month window. Arshavin won’t be leaving in this transfer window. Obviously, as an ITK, if you read between the lines, this actually meant the deal is being done or more likely, Zenit are teasing Spurs for more money. I’m guessing the clue is in the word ‘rejected’. Who would have guessed? Once the ITK information grapevine evaporated, we found ourselves looking down into the barrel of a shotgun, about to fire a bullet of disappointment through our imagination.

No link up of Arshavin and Pav. We miss out on an attacking midfielder, something we are crying out for. So much effort to bring him in wasted. Falcao, Milito, Garcia....nothing other than cryptic promises from club insiders. The Veleso link also died, but then it just sounded like a rehash of an old story. No DM either then.

In the midst of all this, over at Middle Eastlands, the Arabs had landed. Suddenly, City were bidding for anyone and everyone. £30M+ for Berbatov. Villa another target along with the German Gomes. The new owners, showing intent and PR. We accept a bid for Berba. You are unlikely to say no, are you Daniel? So off he goes to meet Mark Hughes, but on the way up there he is greeted by Ferguson and co, rushed off to Old Trafford and has a medical and agrees personal terms. Without our permission, Berbatov meets with the manager of Manchester United. The delirium of City potentially hijacking the transfer fades into reality. Utd will get their man.

Zoom functionally at optimum. What the hell are you laughing at now Levy? What is that site?

So tick tock. It’s about twenty to eleven and no fee had been agreed with Utd at this point. City were on the verge of confirming Robinho as their man, having bid for him too. They do what we failed with Arshavin in the space of an afternoon. Midnight passes. And soon we are told that Berba has gone for £30.75M.

Now. Here’s where my confliction arises.

You have turned us into Utd’s bitch. A feeder club, supplying finely tuned players making a jump from UEFA Cup to Champions League. We hiss and fit, but always give in. Arnesen to Chelsea. Keane to Liverpool. And now Berbatov to Utd. Gone, is our complaint to the FA about their conduct. Barry is still a Villa player. Ronaldo, ironically, still at Old Trafford. But we lose Keane and Dimitar in quick succession. And as a further kick in the balls, while we’re already writhing in agony on the ground, Utd loan us Frazier Campbell, he of 15 goals for Hull City, fame. We are embarrassingly shambolic and weak. Spineless and greedy. Business before football our philosophy. Another attempt in ‘standing tall in the face of adversity’ shat on, as we allow Utd to bully us.

Remember your statement on the website when you first told the world about your complaint and Keane and Berbatov’s desire to leave? You mentioned seeking out quality replacements. You knew this was on the cards, yet gone midnight on transfer deadline day, we have a Championship quality forward joining us. If you wanted to do what Martin O’Neil and Ferguson did to Barry and Ronaldo respectively, and that’s ignore their announcements of wanting to leave, then it sort of fails to work if you actually end up selling both players. Just say no to the players. No to the pursuers. But then, a man with no principles simply can’t say no....no to money. Both Keane and Berba were on long term contracts. You do the math. You work it out. It’s happened three times, which means it’s surely going to happen again. And again.

Three long months to nail this player conundrum and we leave it till the last day to tidy up. If you look at what we’ve managed to lose since last season:

Berbatov. £30M
Keane. £20M.
Defoe. £8M.

Almost £60M made. With just £14M spent on Pavlechenko. A lot of change sitting deep in your pocket. Where was our Robinho bid?

All this deflected, momentarily, away from the fact that no DM was forthcoming either. Not sure I’ve mentioned that. So no ‘top class’ forward to help Bent and Pav. No DM. Just a player Ferguson deems not good enough to retain in his squad, for a year at least while he looks on to see if he can handle Premier life.

City, with a rejuvenated SWP and a Brazilian wonderkid, are looking a better bet than us for a crack at the top 4. Why do we wait until the last day? If you want a player, sign him when you want him. Waiting till the last day means you have no certain targets, which means Comolli isn’t doing his job.

One experienced striker available in Europe (Bent), joined by an inexperienced Campbell. Pav cup-tied. One injury and we are screwed.

Mercy.

Great, finally, you’re making another cup of tea which means I can see your laptop screen clearly......Oh. Look at that. You appear to be slumming it online. How drool.

So, anyway. That’s one perspective. But as incompetent as you are leading the club in signing players we need, excluding that, the Dimitar Dilemma is far more straight forward than the knee-jerk explanation everyone is crying about. Hysteria won’t blind my eyes to the obvious.

Ronaldo and Barry have never refused to play for the clubs. They are professionals (although time will tell how professional they are). Berbatov, ‘not in the right frame of mind’, has refused. It’s not been said out loud, but if you make yourself unselectable through sulking, then it counts. And that, regardless of who you are and what you may have achieved or how important or good a player you are, makes you a certified outcast. Keeping a player of this ilk is an insult to the club and fans. He's been sulking since last season over a move.

Keane, respectfully, asked to leave and was allowed to do so, because at £20M you have to bite Rafa’s hand off.

So how did the Berba move pan out? How did you mastermind the transfer of the century? Simply by using the old trusted “tapping up” accusation trick as a scare tactic and bargaining chip. You did it with Chelsea. You did it with Liverpool. And you did it with Utd.

No fee agreed With Utd before 11:40pm on Monday. Fee agreed with City. Yet over at OT Berba is having his medical. What business did he have being there if there was no permission granted? No matter. The fee would be bumped up for Utd to pay extra for the privilege of avoiding a tribunal where they could have potentially lost points for their illegal approach. Sure, people can blame the Arabs for bidding £30M if they want, but the facts can’t be disputed, even if SSN and everyone else want to avoid saying it out loud.

See, I know your game. You drive the biggest price you can when flogging players and you threaten legal action. Utd must have forked out around £6M in ‘admin fees’ for the Bulgarian. Hush money. Immunity.

Why didn’t Fergie just pay the original £28M or so you wanted? Because he thought he could mug you off. He thought come deadline day, you would cave in and sell him in a cut-price deal of about £20M.

I can see it. Everyone, if they can be bothered to look can see it. Deciphering the Da Levy code is easy. You know that pushing a complaint through to the Prem League or FA will come to nothing because dare they even try to shake up a member of the Top Four ™. But in this case, more so than the dossier that apparently doesn't contain enough evidence, on the basis of 'no permission granted', the authorities would have to investigate how this transfer run its course. You dropped the original tapping up complaint, and got paid off for last night’s approach.

£5M or so from Chelsea for Frank. £1M from Liverpool to the Spurs Foundation and a hefty £20M fee. And a massive fee exceeding £30M from Utd. And what if City had not bid? No matter. Spurs would not have accepted a bid from Utd, had it not meet the estimation. So the entrapment would always happen. And you knew it. It was guaranteed on deadline day that Berbatov would travel to OT and would talk illegally to Utd.

Of course, I could be wrong. Maybe for the past several months you’ve been working behind the scenes to bring Frazier Campbell to the club and used the Berbatov situation as a smoke screen in securing the ‘final piece of the jigsaw’.

You truly are a Dark Lord of the Yidth. And there is my conflict. You got rid of a bad apple for a lot of money on your terms. You did 'good'.

But you failed to strengthen the team further during the last day of the window. Doesn't matter about the summer transfers, it's the last day that counts more.

In 2006, we sold Carrick to Utd. You got as much as you could out of Utd, but we were left scrambling for a replacement. In 2007 we needed a winger, a DM and a CB – and got Kevin Prince-Boateng and Kaboul. And in 2008 we sign three ‘playmakers’, one defender and two forwards. Doesn’t sound bad, but it’s an ask waiting for Pav and Bent to do a Berba/Keane combo, and it’s a bigger ask to place our hopes on Bent and Campbell in the UEFA Cup. One up front or two upfront? And still no sodding DM.

I’m sure the panel of pricks over at Sky Sports will be gutted you didn’t part with Berbatov for £20M.

But the fact is, as good as you are in deception and treachery in transfer politics of outgoing players, you are failing to usher in the totalitarian Tottenham Empire. The team, in key areas, is still weak. And your public perception leaves doubt in peoples mind.

Allow me to quote you:

“In case anyone is under the impression that we are a selling club, I should like to once again stress the policy and position of this club. We are building for the future - we are NOT a selling club.

There is a world of difference between a player who has a short period left on his contract and could look to leave on a free transfer, and a player with a long contract.

If, as we do, you have players on long contracts and the finances of the club are strong, you have no need to sell.

I am happy for anyone to judge this club by who we sell and who we don't. Our ability to attract and retain top-class players is key to our ambition to compete at the highest level - regularly in Europe and with our sights set on Champions League qualification."

Carrick. Keane. Berbatov.

Do you understand now why I’m conflicted and confused? 9 in, 9 out this season. For the money made, I expected more. More attacking midfielders and strikers. And a world class defensive midfielder. Sure, everyone was fine pre-season with the squad, but three games in, it’s obvious we are simply not good enough. Is Ramos truly content with having Pav, Bent and Campbell as his strike force? Should we expect more managerial turmoil soon? Will Poyet who looks unhappy in post match interviews walk?

And what do you plan to do with all that money? Fill your indoor swimming pool with the cash and dive in head first, rejoicing a healthy profit margin? I’m sure a debauched orgy with the directors and shareholders will follow at some point. Bagels sprinkled with cocaine and hookers wearing nothing but Spurs home kit socks.

Before I arrived here, to your manor, and positioned myself in this here undergrowth, I spent the day out and about. Quietly policing the vicinity around the Lodge. Out of sight. Waiting. Watching. We wouldn’t just want anyone turning up to Chigwell. The bloke in the tree wasn’t going to pose a problem. I found him mumbling, in some kind of trance, saying ‘Klass-Jan Huntelaar’ over and over again as he rocked backwards and forwards. He was no threat to my plan.

So I waited. And when required, for which I was, I did what needed to be done. I made a judgement call. I got rid of a newly arrived unwanted guest heading towards the Lodge.

See I bleed Tottenham. But you, on a night when Spurs fans are bemoaning the lack of £20M superstar signing, you’re posting on a message board and laughing your silly little bald pale-face off, enjoying yet another homebrew and biscuit. And what kind of username is w8campbell anyway? Could you not think of anything more original?

Fuck this. I’m out of here. Operation Shit Through Levy’s Letterbox is a no go. I repeat a no go.

You are devious Levy, like my good self. But you are not ‘complete’. You have far too many flaws. You do the hard stuff easy, but fumble with the simple things. I’m conflicted no more. We all know what happens to Palpatine.

Doing what needs to be done is something we both strive for. You got the money you wanted for Berbatov but you failed to assist Ramos and Poyet with additional players. As for me, I did what had to be done to avert a potentially catastrophic disaster.

And it’s in the boot of my car. The big soft lump. I did you a favour, that’s for sure. Because if I allowed the medical to happen, it would have been a mistake too far.

Time to switch the microphone off. I’ve got a long drive to Wigan ahead of me. I have something that belongs to them.

*CLICK*

Dear Mr Levy.........The Summer is Over

Dear Mr Levy,

I’d thank you for the grapes but you haven’t sent me any.

Here I am, lying in my hospital bed, typing out this letter on my Sony Vaio. I am not bitter. Or regretful. If it wasn’t for that bloke in the tree then you would surely be congratulating me for a job well done. Instead, we face the prospect of losing Berbatov to Manchester United and the decimation of our club will continue in earnest. I tried. You can’t blame me for that. But it’s questionable why I had to intervene to help the clubs diminishing ego in the first place.

Get your house in order. Each summer you manage to out-do yourself. Just when I think we’ve gone through the final depressing mire, you manage to conjure up another hellmouth of disillusion and disappointment. If I wanted coco-pops I’d have coco-pops, so stop taking a dump in my bowl of corn flakes because I’m sick of you turning the milk chocolatey.

Don’t bin this letter just yet. I haven't completely written us off. In fact, I’m confident for the season ahead, but the cracks you’ve failed to fill are telling and might cost us dear. And this is where the disillusion and disappoint fester. We take one step forward, but then take a step back again before moving forward. Then we repeat it. It’s the perpetual dance of the never ending transition, like Michael Flatley on ketamine.

Robbie Keane is gone. You’ve sold our very own Garrincha to Liverpool, a side we should be targeting to replace in the Top Four. You’ve weakened us and made them stronger by giving them our best player. Keane was the spark that ignited our attacks. The mouth that shouted encouragement. The scorer of great goals. Our consistent twenty-a-season goal scorer. He was our genius. The way he would always try that trick, you know the one, where he pretends to clean his boots behind the goal only to sneak up behind the keeper and attempt to steal the ball away from him. That one time it worked years and years ago, brilliant, just brilliant! It’s like that moment Pele almost scores from the half-way line – unforgettable! But it’s better because it’s so cheeky. Irish charm like that can’t have a price stamped on it. But the moment his boyhood club (not Celtic, his other boyhood club) reveal their interest in him, he decides to go. His decision made faster than you can say ‘transfer request’. If we had kept him we could have made the Champions League and earned the millions from qualification instead. But no, we accept a charity donation, drop the accusations of tapping up and let him go to Anfield. Would Man Utd let Rooney leave? Would Arsenal let van Persie depart? Would Chelsea allow Drogba to walk away? Of course not. They are all irreplaceable, much like Keane was. Their clubs would not even listen to any offers. But us? Every time, we lube up and bend over for one of the big boys to shaft us good and proper. Liverpool must be laughing their heads off getting Keane for £20M. Laughing their heads off.

And how do we replace our vice-captain? We appoint Jenas in his place and compound this by offering him a new contract. Which he signs. I once famously said that whilst Dave Mackey would run through a brick wall for Tottenham, Jenas would attempt to go through the front door, notice he has no keys and then apologetically spend the night on a park bench crying. These days Jenas avoids the front door altogether and prefers to climb onto the roof and play the fiddle until the strings snap and then climb down the chimney and make his way into the deepest darkest corner in the basement, shivering like a leaf. Making Jenas vice-captain is like asking Amy Winehouse to quit drinking. It’s a redundant idea. She’ll quit when she’s dead. Amy needs a slap. Jenas needs a slap too. Are you going to slap him Daniel? Is Ramos going to slap him? I’ve tried slapping him, but the boy can run. And once he’s in his Bentley, there’s no way of catching up. Not on my Grifter. How will he inspire others when he can’t inspire himself? Or should I have faith and brace myself for another ‘this will be his season’ season for the third successive season?

"Maybe, maybe not"

Excuse me for a minute. The nurse is here to give me a sponge bath.

Oh yeah. Mmmmm. Baby, lower, lower…that’s the spot. Right there. Ooh, it tickles.

Where was I?

Right, then we have the Sunderland fiasco. Steed, Chimbonda and TT all sold to the Mackems because we want to keep Rocha, Lee, Ghaly and Stalteri just in case we need cover in key positions.

Kaboul rejected Roy Keane preferring instead Harry Redknapp. The only time there’s an earthquake in Portsmouth is when Harry drops a brown envelope. Should have gone to Sunderland Younis. You’ll look world class up there. I have no qualms about this particular transfer other than why was Comolli not thrown in as a bonus. Thrown into the Thames. £8M is what we spent on Kaboul. When we scouted him, what exactly did we see that was worth £8M? His inability to defend? His lack of coordination?

Comolli. Specsavers. Both avoiding each other with the perseverance of Marty McFly dodging his mother’s flirting back in the 50’s.

And on the subject of defenders, how is it that Ledley King is always stumbling out of Faces, trousers half way down his arse, absolutely bladdered with the addition of a textbook ugly munter and bouncers arms all perfectly captured in a Kodak moment for the ever present Evening Standard? The latest incident happened a few days back. It’s practically choreographed. Preparation for the new season going well I take it? We then have our esteemed manager talking about King as if we don’t know whether he will last the season out. Nothing new here. The bloke obviously has major issues. For a start, his choice in belts is woeful. Go to Top Man and pick yourself up a nice little number. Something that preserves your dignity when you’ve had one too many. And for God’s sake, try something different. Faces is an abomination. Ask John Terry for some alternative drinking establishments and some etiquette do’s and don’ts. Get with the program Ledley and start behaving like a professional footballer.

Ok, let’s momentarily leave the negativity and try to concentrate on the positivity. Because regardless of the fact that I don’t think everything is perfect, you might have fluked yourself a 5th spot placement. Or maybe even 4th. I know. It’s not often I feel encouraged and even though there is still an abundance of hurdles to jump, this summer hasn’t been a complete disaster.

Paul Robinson. The Park Lane’s favourite son is gone. No more chants of ‘England’s number one’ or ‘the ball…the ball, you’re meant to catch it not watch it…oh Christ no, it’s gone in. Again. Why God Why?’. What grand loyalty we have shown him, honouring the long term contract he signed by selling him two seasons later. I jest. The moment he lost form we let him lose it further down the back of the career sofa until all he could find was fluff. And at that point, we discarded him. It was the right thing to do. Blackburn have been practically relegated with this signing. Robinson was the epitome of our progression. We excel beyond expectations; believe in our own hype and then falter embarrassingly. We should have dropped him faster than he drops a cupcake for a doughnut. His Atkins diet was a commendable effort on his part, but made little impact on his performances. I wish him well for the future.

So roll up the next victim of the curse. We now have alleged world-class Brazilian Gomes between the sticks which I’m hoping means no more goals conceded from 30 yards out. Be warned there’s no guarantee of that not happening, because there will be no stopping the shots coming in from that distance thanks to our resident midfield general Zokora who’s idea of closing players done consists of the Tibetan mind trick of wishing the ball away from the opposition player simply by thinking about it. There are people who sit on the back row of the West Stand that get closer to the ball than Zokora. Gomez has his work cut out this season. But it’s ok because he’s gonna hang from the goal bar before kick-off, psyching himself and the fans up. ‘Brazils number one, Brazils Brazils number one’.

Modric is our midfield saviour in an attacking form. Our brand new creative spark. But it’s a bit like having Cannon with no Ball. Little with no Large. He needs a defensive midfielder of true class partnering him in the centre of the park. It’s ok to get excited about his ability but why hasn’t the most vital part of the jigsaw been completed? Skinny small lad is our Modric, but a tough nut having played in the brutal Bosnia and Herzegovina Premier League. He’ll handle himself I’m sure, but he’ll need protection. I am privileged to have him at our club for the next two seasons, and wish him well when he signs for Man Utd.

Gok does not approve

Our other lickle midfielder is the Mexican dos Santos who seems to be doing rather well in pre-season. How exactly have we managed to steal the new Ronaldinho from Barcelona? This surely is our very own Fabregas moment. A new diamond in our crown jewel. He’s going to be amazing for us; you can tell he has the skills. One standing foot, and one kicking foot – there’s no way he will be out of his depth in England. I hate to praise Comolli, but he might have struck gold for the first time. Gio will do for us what Lennon has. Mazzy, dinking runs. Dribbles. Goals, dummies and shimmies. Wednesday evening kick-offs in the pouring cold rain? Close your eyes Gio, and it’s the Camp Nou. Be sure to open them before Konchesky lunges in.

We’ve also spent £15M and a bit on David Bentley. The Manchester United supporting Spurs fan. Legend. A player shifted out of Arsenal by Wenger for very little who now find themselves with a £7M windfall. Who’s laughing now? We decimated Roma, runners-up in Serie A last weekend, and our new winger notched a brace. For me this is the benchmark. If we can dismantle Roma who are two weeks behind English clubs in preparation for the new season but runners-up in Italy, then we can surely beat the big clubs in the Prem and the mediocre clubs away from home. Ramos has done it already. All those poor performances after the Carling Cup Final are irrelevant now. The new-look Spurs have been tested substantially this pre-season and it’s all coming together. Bentley will score and create and give us something different. Like crosses. I remember seeing one of them back when Waddle starred for us. Doesn’t even matter that Bentley played for them lot. We at Spurs will get behind him, regardless of form, and give him the type of support we gave Carrick when he signed from West Ham. We are salt of the earth like that. And if he doesn’t perform at all, then I’ll PM and post ‘FAO’ threads on a Spurs forum venting my anger at his publicity seeking mate.

Gardner has joined Hull for £2.5M. Gardner has left for Hull. Hull sign Gardner for club record. No more Gardner. Anthony departs Spurs for £2.5M. Hull sign Spurs defender. Anthony sent to Hull on Gardening leave. Spurs make £2.5M on Gardner move to Hull. Gardner in three year Hull deal. Gone to Hull. No matter how you say it and how many times you repeat it, you just can’t seem to believe it. Now and again you do surprise me Daniel with these shrewd business deals. For this, no egg throwing when you next visit Tescos. I promise you only profanities.

But alas, the positivity ends here. Let’s move onto Corluka. This particular debacle made me dizzy. Did we bid for him? Did he have a medical? Did he sign a contract? Was any of the tabloid talk and ITK forum whispers anywhere close to the truth? He’s still a City player and we still don’t have a centre-back, which means all our hopes our firmly on Woodgate and King to remain fit. Christ, we’re sitting on a egg volcano that’s about to erupt yolk. And you know where it’s going to settle? All over our faces. The entirety of the summer months and we wait until the end of it to attempt to pay almost £8M for a player who isn’t brilliant, but half decent and would work well as cover. But we don’t actually conclude the deal. For £8M surely we can buy a couple of decent CB’s for cover or just one accomplished CB – because let’s face it - King won’t be playing every game. And Dawson, who can’t seem to play at all if he isn’t partnered up with King wouldn’t be the promising alternative. The lean slim new look Huddlestone doesn’t have the speed or mobility. Unless you stick him in that Formula One car. One out of two ain’t bad going.

As for the Keane replacement and the replacement for Berbatov (that’s two positions, yes?) we have brought in nothing. Darren Bent is our sole striker. Arshavin appears to be our sole target. Is this a summers worth of preparation? We managed to splash £16.5M last season on Bent, surely we can do the same this season? Why have we not signed Arshavin? I know Zenit have moved the goal-posts on their asking price, but with Keane gone there is no need to wait for Berbatov to also depart. If Zenit want £20M, pay them £20M. He looked exceptional in Euro 2008, in that one game. Not so much in the other one but that’s not the point. That one goal celebration where his arms are held up and his head slanted shows this guy also has marketable qualities. A baby-face assassin. The Russian hit man. Not that I would personally buy anything from the Spurs Shop of course. But I know you won’t miss a trick. We must move quickly to beat Barcelona to his signature. Real quick, before they steal in to snatch him up. I know in the past we got burnt with the Rebrov signing and Postiga also, but this is different because we wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. How will he fit into the team? Who knows? But he’s been linked to us for so long if we don’t sign him, it will feel like we’ve lost a player. It’s like Kuyt all over again.

Which brings us to Berbatov. The big kick off is just days away and the Sulk is still stropping his way around the pitch and training ground. Which is where I found myself the other day. At the Lodge. With the Premier League deciding there is not enough evidence to make a decision on Ferguson’s alleged tapping up of Berbatov, everyone is claiming it’s now a done deal waiting to happen. I was more than happy to see my visit to Chigwell was not a wasted one. Because my being there would only be productive if Dimitar was also present. It brought much delight to this urban guerilla. Although at the time I did not foresee it all ending in tears.

The Berbatov saga has dragged on longer than Cliff Richard’s celibacy. It has to come to an end. It’s boring, bland and unnatural and nobody can take it any longer. For the love of God, I need to know! We all need to know! Is he gay, straight, bi, asexual? Why the obsession with Christmas songs? Was Sue Barker a good shag? As for Berbatov, this particular saga also requires a sight is in end. Once again we wait for another nail to be hammered into our coffin. First Carrick. Then Keane. And next Berbatov. A feeder club to the Top 4. Shaking your fist in anger, writing letters to the authorities expecting this to somehow appease us is not going to work. We need to halt this conveyor belt of doom.

Where Ferguson can stand his ground with Ronaldo, we pretend to do the same thing, rejecting bids and looking the other way, knowing full well that we will sell him with seconds to go in the transfer window without a replacement lined-up. But why should we even consider selling him even though the player wants out? Show some bottle and initiative Levy! Buck the trend, even if it costs us - otherwise they will continue to take our players. But alas, you’d prefer us to be mugged off publicly, again.

Hospital food being served up. Excellent. This is like dropping a kebab on the pavement and watching a dog lick it before picking it up and hiding the hairs and fleas by running back into the takeaway to ask for more chilli sauce. Is this mash potato or boiled cabbage? I can’t tell.

So anyway, that’s why I found myself at the Lodge. I decided that the fate of the club serves best to sit in the palms of a loyal supporter. We cannot be bullied by the likes of Manchester United any longer, and with the Prem League turning a blind eye (much like they did when Scudamore failed to act when half our team almost died prior to that West Ham match) someone outside the constraints of official rules and regulations has to tip the balance in our favour.

When Berbs turned up for training, I quizzed myself whether he was simply there to clear out his locker and say goodbye to each of his reflections in all of the mirrors found within the complex. Then he appeared on the turf, kicking a ball and it was soon obvious there was not a whiff of a Utd medical on the horizon. Which meant Operation Nuts could commence. It was simple really. Waiting for one of our inept players to give him a hammy so he’s out for a month would be a waste of time. Which meant the responsibility was with me.

Injure Berbatov, force Utd to look elsewhere. Purchase Arshavin before the deadline. Berbs remains, regains fitness and rejoins the first team as we propel ourselves into a Champs League spot.

I’ve spent most of the summer conducting secret tests, planning out every second of this masterplan. Many badgers have died as I’ve streamlined the operation to perfection. But with practice over, it's was now time to put it into motion aiming for a satisfactory end result. The Bulgarian must sit on the treatment table long enough to keep him beyond the transfer window closure and by Christmas, his heart might find its way back to us.

But you’ll be disheartened to know this was no smooth execution. In fact it was an unmitigated disaster. This was Spurs v Arsenal, 1971 all over again. Gut wrenching.

I waited for Berbatov to walk towards his car after training was concluded. I was perfectly camouflaged. Security out of sight, no other players present. My secret box of surprise ready to be opened. Pandora, stand back.

I jumped out of my hiding place, startling the Bulgarian, and proceeded to throw a balloon full of Red Bull at him. It exploded on impact.

Operation Nuts – Bulgarian Balloon Burst was a success. The ‘it went to shit’ bit was to follow directly after this. As Berbs stood there, shrugging as if Lennon had just misplaced another pass, I opened the box.

Twenty three squirrels, all suffering from caffeine withdrawal, primed for the attack. The second they catch the whiff of Red Bull on Berbatov…nothing will stop them. You’d think that force-feeding squirrels carbonated energy drink for two weeks and then depriving them of it for several days would have a desirable effect. A vicious army of fluffy tailed warriors, ready to do anything for a fix, lunging forwards towards the soaked target.

Almost like karmatic sabotage, it went to shit.

"GLORY!"

There was no forward lunging. They heard branches being ruffled and the over-whelming desire to return to the wild and ignore the Red Bull was too strong for their confused minds. I should have got hold of some Charlie instead, but my budget only catered for the jittery drink. Crack whore squirrels would not have shown such insubordination.

All of them, in unison, turned their backs on Berbatov and their beastmaster and run towards a tree, preferring the clean country air and the imminent shakes of going cold turkey. Obviously all I could do was follow my rodent army before security were alerted, leaving Berbatov bemused by the whole incident.

In addition there was no chance in hell I was gonna let the little buggers escape. It took me the best part of the summer to capture them and train them. Ten hours a day, intensive re-programming, attack formations and don’t get me started on the scratch marks I got from the bottle-feeding.

They were born for this day. They utterly ruined the Red Bull soaked effigy of Berbatov, ruined it. And what they did to those badgers still keeps me awake at night. Doherty, one particularly ginger squirrel with a Hannibal complex, was oh so vicious. My favourite. The other squirrels were hippies in comparison. We formed a bond. The way we both foamed in the corner of our mouths made me believe that nothing would stop us from succeeding.

And yet there I was, standing at the foot of the tree with the little blighters running up it. And there right at the tip of one of the highest branches was a bloke, binoculars in one hand and a notepad and crayon in the other.

“What the paxton are you doing up there?”
“I can see Arsh!! You haven’t got a laptop with a network connection on you?”
“Look, I’m just after the squirrels. I’m not interested in what you can see, you pervert. You want to see arse, get yourself a girlfriend or visit a sauna. The one in Stratford is pretty good.”
“Arshavin!!”
“You’re sick, do you know that? Just keep your voice down and don’t scare my squirrels”
“It’s Arshavin!! ARSHAVIN!! MEDICAL!! MED…I…CAAAAAAAAAL!!”
“For God’s sake, the squirrels man, the squirrels!”

He wouldn’t stop screaming. And with all the shrieking, seconds later led by Doherty, the squirrels grouped into attack formation delta-b and savaged him. What they should have done to Dimitar they were doing to this lost soul up in a tree. I was actually quite proud. Ok, it wasn’t the intended target, and he smelt more of Burger King than Red Bull, but attack formation delta-b is still attack formation delta-b. Direct and decisive.

Before I could take out my N95 and video the glorious moment for youtube, he fell from the tree, body terrorised by my brethrens, and landed on top of me.

The squirrels scattered into the wild. Maybe it was the concussion but I’m sure Doherty winked at me as he trotted off to a neighbouring tree. I’ll never forget that fluffy tail. Berbatov had long since driven off home. And having broken his fall, my binocular carrying friend scarpered away, with a squirrel or two still attached to his arse.

And here I am. In hospital. A few broken ribs, bruises…other battle injuries. Something about a viral zoonotic neuroinvasive disease. Nothing to worry about I'm sure. I’ll be on my feet in no time and discharged hopefully before Saturday.

And that’s when all the hopes of all Spurs fans rest on the opening fixture of the season. A summers worth of analysis and conjecture replaced by fact. 90 minutes of football. One step of 38 to be taken.

I don’t want grapes now. Just the three points.

Yours Hoping,

Spooky

Dear Mr Levy....Whatever happened to Audere est Facere?

Dear Mr Levy,

A round of applause to everyone associated with Tottenham Hotspur, Puma and Mansion for regressing the Spurs kit to a new level of cheap mediocre averageness. Anticipation leading up to the unveiling was akin to waiting for the Keeley Hazell sex-tape video to complete download. Imagine the unparalleled disappointment when all you got from Keeley was a lacklustre blow-job followed by a blokes arse bobbing up and down for ten minutes. The farcical launch of the new kit has left me bitterly bitterly limp.

Well done Mr Chairman. Thank you for retaining the lame light blue travesty. Thank you for retaining the chocolate brown shirt, one that will forever remind us of the day diarrhoea ended our Champions League quest. Oh, its black, not chocolate. My mistake. Still the colour of shit. Thank you for the Chinese wording. If making an impact in Asia is so important we could have asked Pascal Chimbonda to hold the Olympic torch. In Tibet. Without security.

Next season, I'm certain the current paragraph to be found on the home shirt will be extended further with 'Middle of the Road' added to the end of it, just after the further addition of 'We beat the scum 5-1 - buy the DVD in the Spurs Shop'.

Whatever happened to Audere est Facere? You want to know what happened to it? It got dragged screaming by its hair into a dark alley by a speccy bald-headed suspect and brutally mugged the shit out of. We've gone from having Latin on our badge to replacing it with its soppy English translation to then bastardising it further with the weak and embarrassing 'To Wear is to Do' marketing tag-line. All mashed together in a cringe-worthy over-dramatic unveiling that makes me taste vomit in my mouth when I see the pictures and watch the player interviews as they salivate over what is, fundamentally a fucking shirt.

Distinctively Bland

Well Mr Levy, I've got a tag-line for you:

"To take a shit through your letterbox is what I feel like doing to do" you insensitive money-grabbing shande.

Next time, I'll be happy to help out. All I need is a plain white shirt as my canvas and I'll scat and Roman shower my way to glory. I'll produce the same result for half the price. I just can't see how those three shirts were held up high, with everyone agreeing in unison; "YES, THAT'S IT, THEY'RE PERFECT!"

You'll have more chance of selling these new shirts if you packaged them up in a small box and labelled it as 'The Tottenham Hotspur Opus - Price £4000'.

Why the emphasis on 'Casino and Poker'? Everyone knows what Mansion is. They're the company Manchester United blew-out for AIG. Do Mansion lack so much confidence in their 'product' that they need to include a footnote? Do you see Utd adding 'American International Group Inc - Travel Health Motor Household Insurance' on their shirts? Of course not, you fachadick.

Yet we appease the mighty Mansion. Why stop there? How about a Roulette table replacing Robinson in goal. It'll be far more of a distraction for the opposition forwards for a start. Chimbonda, ideal craps dealer IMO. Slot machines in the men's bogs, because we need to be doing something in-between all the smoking, pissing on the floor and singing that God awful racist Adebayor song. Nicky Santoro in central midfield and its peek-a-boo, you fucks, you! Onto a winner for sure, no?

The rabbits we're gonna get and I, I get to tend 'em

All this is compounded further by the fact that Berbatov wasn't at the launch. Yes, worst kept secret of all time - we all know he is on his way out of N17 and onto a 'top top club'. Although even if by some miracle had he decided to stay at the club prior to this shirt launch, I'd expect him to have purposely attempted to contract leprosy to avoid turning up for the photo-shoot. Although looking at the state of Woodgate, you'd think he was infected.

We know Berbatov is gone, but how depressing is it that you proceed to parade Jenas which means he is firmly in the future plans of the manager. We are on the verge of paying up to 10% increases on season tickets for the privilege of screaming and shouting at a player incapable of playing, running aimlessly around in a shit cheap shirt, all the while I'm surrounded by cunts wearing said same shit shirt with their 'nick names' printed on the back because 'Oh look, my nick name is Trigger, please be my friend' - 'No I will not be your friend, you fucking man-child, grow up, you're forty years old and you've bought a replica shirt you melter' while you, Mr Levy, gag on fifty pound notes up in the directors box while Comolli massages Cristal onto your back. And people wonder why other people freeze their shit and create model effigy's out of them and send them first class* in the post with an accompanying letter written in blood stating: "YOU ARE DESTROYING THE VERY FABRIC OF THIS CLUB". Its a self-fulfilling prophecy of depression you are forcing upon us.

*Its recorded delivery, so if you can drop me an email or text when you receive it, that would be grand. If you got time, a quick photo (mobile phone will do) with you by the side of the effigy would be so cool. Need it for the 'Levy is the anti-Christ' Facebook page.

Ignoring the wording on the shirts, Puma appear to be lacking any true creative juice when it comes to changing the bits that aren't white. Somehow they have managed to make the white even more bland and uninspiring by depressing the other bits around it. The shirts pretty much sum up the club in its current state. Its Carling Cup all over. If we had more clout we would not have anything other than the red Mansion logo on the shirt. In fact, if we were any good, we would force them to change their logo from red to blue. But no, instead they get to write a fucking memo on it. We're a walking ,talking, running note-pad, stuck on your TV every so often when you've tuned into Sky and Setanta.

So what does the future hold? What next Mr Levy? Do you plan to lay waste the famous Cockerel? You've already had Chirpy go through one nip and tuck session, so what next? Maybe a Cockerel isn't sexy enough for this new era of fashion you aborted, bloody coat-hanger in hand. How about Barry the Bagel? It's zippy, hip and fresh. I took Harry (from Harry Hotspur) changed the 'H' to a 'B' so it works alongside Bagel (Harry, Barry - same difference, its not like you sell Shakespeare in the Spurs shop). And Bagels are more popular than Cockerels with attached spurs (when was the last time you saw a cock fight other than some Mexicans laying bets on one during an episode of The Shield?). There's also the commercial factor to consider. A bagel is a bagel. Its unmistakable.

But our current badge.....is that a cockerel or a chicken? A football or a basketball? Its all a bit too ambiguous for the modern day market, especially if you're going too tap into the US and Far East.

Barry the Bagel mascot - an artist's impression

The badge (a smiling bagel, with a cheeky wink - think SpongeBob Square Pants but edible) is far more marketable with the kids. Considering we are losing a whole generation of youngsters to the likes of Chelsea, we can win them back with a talking walking skipping Bagel from the Lane. Barry could have his own cartoon show with cameos from the players. You could even shift Kaboul full-time across to the show, the lumbering clown.

But that's never going to happen is it Daniel. Barry the Bagel is just a deluded dream much like the one you're fulfilling at the moment as a Premiership chairman. And you'd have copyright issues with Barry Bagels (est. 1972).

We don't know if we're coming or going at the minute.

You even delayed the announcement on the potential new/or rebuilt 50,000 stadium after various newfeeds run a story about the re-development of WHL. Your official statement was a dross of soundbites that mean nothing other than, you don't really have a clue where this club will be sitting, geographically, 3-5 years from now. Wouldn't have to rely on selling copies of The Opus if you had an extra 15,000 seats. By the way, have you heard of the term, flogging a dead horse? Two words for you: Credit Crunch. Nobody is going to spend 4 fucking grand on a coffee table book. Stop with the serialisation on the official site. We know it exits. You've already wheeled out legend after legend, promoting the damn thing during the half-time intervals. Nobody wants to own a book which you need to read wearing protective gloves and move about the house in a wheelbarrow. Have you not seen the way the masses eat pies on match-days? They take a copy of the Opus home with them, its likely to be sticky with spilt coco-pops within days.

So onwards we go. Final game of the season, and the hilarity of the summer transfer season will be upon us. On Sunday, I will bid my farewell to Berbatov. And no matter the police or stewards present, will stand proud as I burn my season ticket and newspaper cut-outs of the new kit in protest of yet another season of supporter-repression.

Don't hide behind the Carling Cup for too long Mr Levy. Its cold in the shadows.

Yours Sincerely,

Spooky

Memo to Mr Levy

I told you so. I told you about half a million times. I told you with paintballs, I told you with frozen shit pellets. I even told you with piss-filled balloons. But you just looked the other way. And while everyone else was getting over-excited and wetting themselves with sticky glee, I stood as a beacon of truth in a sea of wretched lies. And it’s taken just a short space of time to prove that I was right. Not that anyone cares. Not that anyone notices. People forget and move on. They don’t actually forget, it’s more of a case of placing it on the shelf. History and your spin doctors will have you as the protagonist of change. A king presiding over his kingdom, holding firm in his hands the Magna Carta (which you can pick up for a cool £4000 from the Spurs Shop). It’s all bollocks really. The continuous flow of pathetic propaganda and condescending contradictions. One lie was followed by another, followed by another. All the time you seemed to revel in the fallacy, retaining an air of innocence and professionalism. When in fact it was all more akin to sticking your fingers in your ears and shouting ‘LA LA LA’.

It’s like walking along a road and finding a massive huge hole full of shit in front of you and deciding to swim through it and then half way along you bail out and decide to take another route, a route with no shit-swimming. Just because you’re on a shitless route doesn’t mean that you weren’t swimming in shit earlier. You still swam in the shit. Regardless of the u-turn, you were neck deep in it. Enjoying the warmth, blowing bubbles as your head remained above the sewage. You reek of it. And you simply cannot expect me to ignore the stench.

Your management skills surrounding Martin Jol’s reign as manager and his dismissal and the capture of Juande Ramos was shambolic.

Even with the dizzy heights of two successive 5th place spots, time and time again, I still threatened to burn my season ticket as the ultimate sacrifice. I could see the overachievement. We were simply fortunate winners of circumstance. Outside the top 4, anyone who hits form and enjoys luck will sit pretty above the other teams with UEFA Cup aspirations. Just because you’re 5th doesn’t mean you’re anywhere near catching the clubs who sit in 1st to 4th. But try telling that to a set of fans sitting in a rollercoaster that only appears to be moving upwards.

I was and still am the lone voice in calling for time on your chairmanship and questioning the players mentality and the manager at the club. I protested in blog and in person at White Hart Lane, but all anyone was interested in doing was singing Jol’s name and even yours. Remember that moment? End of last season. Jol on the pitch with a microphone doing a fine impersonation of pot-smoking Winston Churchill, with a rallying speech uniting all in the ground with hope for further progression. He gave you credit, and at that exact second you felt validated as some of the fans sang your name. Did you know then you were going to sack him? Did you politely applaud knowing that behind the scenes everything wasn’t as rosy as the Dutch man would have us believe? You should have sacked him in the summer. But you didn’t. You didn’t take the clean and fresh route. You didn’t make an effort to avoid the big hole full of shit. You preferred instead to dive head first and then swam and swam until Paul Kemsley bombed naked into it with Comolli standing legs apart, writing his name in the shit.

But it doesn’t matter now, does it? Because Jol is gone and in the short time that Ramos has been at the club he has made a mockery of all that’s come before him. All the basics – the very same I have highlighted over and over again – are finally being dealt with. Ramos and Poyet do not care for egos or treading on peoples toes. Should I give you credit for bringing them to the club? Of course not. It’s your fucking job to hire personnel of this ilk, like mine is to turn up every other Saturday or Sunday to support the team.

Under Jol, we were a glorified pub team with one world class player. Unfit, a lack of diet and no development of any kind in key areas. No development of the midfield. No holding or true defensive midfielder. No balance on the wings. Nothing to suggest we would truly break into the top 4 other than delusional day-dreams.

Ramos has been here for 5 minutes. He hasn’t made as great, he’s pulled us from pathetic to acceptable Premiership standard by changing the diet of the players and improving the fitness by about 100%. Set pieces have improved. Players hassle. We look like a unit. It’s still not perfect and there’s still various glitches with the system, but did Jol ever pull the defence apart after a shocking performance and then buy three new players? “Enough is enough”, Poyet commented….and a month or two later we have Woodgate, Hutton and Gilberto. Although whether a crock a Scotsman and a middle-aged Brazilian will improve us over the next two years remains to be seen.

We didn’t even choke in the second leg of the semi-final. In the summer Ramos true test will begin. At the moment, he’s just hosing the shit off your back.

Let me go back to something. ‘Glorified pub team’ was a little harsh. Jol was the best thing to happen to our club for a decade. Though that’s not exactly shocking considering the mis-management of previous chairmen. He was the first manager in a long time that fans loved. He embraced the clubs traditions and history and style of play and tried his very best achieve the success that we – the most egotistical of fans – lust after. However, he had his limitations. The same reoccurring problems that hindered the team would haunt us far too often. And any chance of him growing in stature and decision making would perish forever when you and your army of darkness decided that it was time to look elsewhere. Yet continued to spend millions on players that were dubious in choice. It’s incredible really how something can change over-night. You can look to be in the best of health one day, and keel over clutching your arm with your chest in pain and struggling to breathe the next.

Most would not have predicted this season’s early collapse. The media couldn’t stop harping on about us closing ‘the gap’. They loved Jol. Our fans can be forgiven for having the wool pulled over their eyes. A win here and there can do wonders for delusions of grandeur. But you and the departed Kemsley and Comolli – you are all responsible for what happens behind closed doors. And the moment you decided he wasn’t good enough, you undermined him and inadvertently sabotaged the dream.

You got ahead of yourselves. Believed the hype. Snorted too much, and got yourselves a sickening nosebleed.

Now you may argue that you were looking after the best interests of the club. You could see Jol was not the answer, and as much as it would hurt you looked elsewhere. You made the difficult choice of going behind someone’s back. But from what we’ve seen and heard since, it was more than a catalyst. The director of football structure, and the apparent disagreements on transfers, with Comolli the centerpiece served to push the dagger deeper into Jol’s back. The system wasn’t working and it took down its victims with no remorse. Jol. The fans. Hope of another 5th spot, or better.

You and you alone are responsible for the club. You are also responsible for Comolli and his spending. You are responsible for appointing the manager.

Ramos, is his own man, and any limitations on progressing the team will be down to him obviously, but anything he can’t do because of limitations from the club will be your fault. I’m talking about the power Comolli possesses with the final decision making with bringing in new players. You clearly stated that Ramos was Comolli’s choice. That this is a partnership you believe will work as they are suited for each other. And if it fails, it’s Comolli who will face the axe. Nice choice of patsy. And if the appointment works, then once more you’ll be vindicated.

Ramos, does appear to be his own man. He has apparently rejected 6 or 7 ‘suggested’ players. He has dropped Robinson. He has been realistic over the future of Berbatov. With Poyet along his side, they have boosted moral and belief. I’ve mentioned the diet already, and that’s been highlighted by the media and our own players countless of times. Seeing Huddlestone leaner than ever and the players not overtly collapsing in the final 20 mins of games is a blessing. Actually it isn’t, it’s what any club that aspires to be more than decent should be doing. And the improvement in the likes of Jenas and the continued great form of Steed are massive highlights.

Seems we finally have a proper manager at the club. And that’s why, even though you hired him in the most calamitous way possible, I’ve decided to be magnanimous.

I’m not suggesting a clean slate. Or forgiveness. You are in a position to sit back and allow the people who know their football to just get on with it. Don’t undermine the manager and don’t mug us off.

And maybe spray yourself with a little more deodorant.

Dear Mr Levy: Another day, another lie

Dear Mr Levy,

It’s been quite some time since my last communication to you. I’m not even sure where to begin. Do we talk about the handling of the Jol sacking? The Ramos appointment? Kemsley’s departure? Director of football failure? Talk-over rumours? The re-building of WHL or a potential new stadium? Ground sharing with West Ham United? Berbatov? Woeful Premiership form? At the end of last season I actually believed that I would begin to struggle with finding complaints due to what looked like some form of progression yet this term you have supplied me with so much material I’m considering t-shirts, effigy key-rings and business cards. I’m even looking at a potential future podcast.

What the fuck is happening over there Daniel? Pull yourself together man before the next judge decides that a court injuncture against me following you around isn’t a good idea because having me rummaging through your bins will keep you on your toes. I mean, fucking hell, do you have any idea how easy it is for me to pick holes in your regime? Emperor Levy? Nero would be more apt. You’ll probably blame the Park Lane for starting the fire while you play your violin from your treasured West Stand. I’m sure Berbatov will be standing by you, doing a little jig as all around the fires burn. Taxi to Manchester!

As for the 2-0 win away in Israel. Not much to say other than, it was very average. Even against 10 men. All a bit too uninspiring. Berbatov scored but struggled initially with the memory of what he needed to do with his face on such rare occasions.

Yes, that's it, flex those facial muscles, yep, almost there...almost there.....and....that’s it! A smile! Incredible movement from Berbatov! I've never seen anything like it!

Midfield was more sideways than forwards. And considering the second half was practically a training session, its a little concerning that we couldn't add more goals. But no reason for a sudden surge of ideas and imagination in the creative department. It's still the same old players out there. Including Jenas. The immovable object. Dave Mackay would run through brick walls for Tottenham. Jenas would apologetically whisper that he has lost the keys for the door, then sleep on a park bench for the night. He usually destroys weak teams because that's when he's in his element. Play Jenas against a under-15 team and I'll tell you this now, he would score a hat-trick, nailed on. His free kicks will still be shit though.

At least KPB is playing more often. Seems Ramos rates him an awful lot more than Jol ever did. Not surprising though considering Sevilla were also after him until the Spanish team pulled out and Comolli signed him for Jol. Well, actually no he didn't. He signed him for Ramos. Unofficially his first signing for Spurs, no?

Wasn't impressed with Berbatov in the 2-0 win, even with the goal scored. Far too much complaining and moaning and arm swinging and rolling of the eyes - again a case of 'business as usual' for our only world class player although it feels more like 'closed for the holidays'. In fact, apart from Steed and Keane, the whole team was still struggling to come to terms with reclaiming even an ounce of confidence and swagger. All a bit too fragmented and lackluster. As for Bent, at this rate, we'll get £2M for him from West Ham. Looks like we've been stitched up there good and proper. And going back to the Bulgarian again, he still has the look and movement of a man with constipation. His only performance of quality this season from him was up at Old Trafford. Funny that.

The BBC approve of anti-Jenas propaganda. Good for them.

Anyway, this is not going to be one of my full blown three page letters. I’m going to wait until after the Wigan game before I put pen to paper and rape and pillage my way through a thesaurus as I throw damning incitements and sardonic words your way. This is just a mini-letter. A teaser. And I’m going to pick out a random subject matter and state my opinion on it because I need to blow off some steam before Sunday's 'The Biggest Game in our History™' clash with Wigan. Lets talk about, I don’t know….maybe, I suppose, we should go with……something random......how about...Berbatov. Sound good to you?

I see you have allowed The Sulk to post his statement via the official site, renouncing all the rumours about his future. As see-through as tracing paper IMO. It’s all just a rather obvious ploy to quiet down the mass hysteria of the rumours, isn’t it? Bit like that time Kemsley marched off to Spain to meet Ramos and not offer him a dizzying deal. Bit like that time, isn’t it? Remember? Spain? The meeting with Ramos? Kemsley, with the talking and the offering? No? You don't remember? Amazing. You posted a statement claiming it wasn't true. Something about the newspapers being wankers.

Ok, foreplay over. Le'ts just cut to the chase. Here’s the real timeline of events that are masked behind your dark tapestry of untruthness:

Man Utd inquire about Berbatov
Spurs reject bid
Berbatov is unhappy with not being allowed to leave
Berbatov sulks during pre-season games
Spurs struggle with internal politics which results in a woeful start to the season
Berbatov and Jol do not get along
Berbatov doesn’t appear to be pulling his weight
Berbatov sulks
Berbatov and Jol's miserable double-act takes centre stage at Newcastle defeat
Newspapers have a field day with Spurs lack of form and Berbatov being blatantly unhappy
Comolli meets the player and his agent for 'showdown talks'
Spurs release a public statement on the official site that states Berbatov isn’t leaving – but clearly states ‘January’ and doesn’t mention whether the player will remain after the summer
His dad claims his son wants out
His brother claims he wants out
Berbatov releases a public denial, via the Spurs site and claims everything is a lie and that he is remaining at the club and that he loves the club
This statement appeases the Spurs faithful
The tabloids are slammed as scum by the fans for bullshitting
Comolli and Levy laugh as their masterpiece falls into place
Berbatov no longer has the uncertainty the fans were experiencing to worry about, so will not get abuse from the stands for wanting to leave
Fans will sing and chant his name
Fans believe everything he said, because ‘surely, he would never lie about something like this’
Privately the club have told Berbatov he can leave when an acceptable bid is made
Spurs know that if the player ‘publicly’ states he ‘loves the club’ and doesn’t want to leave, then other clubs wont make cheeky bids undermining his true value in the transfer marker
If the player publicly ‘wanted out’ then clubs would not make bids that match the value of the player
Berbatov has the press and fans off his back and his wish set to come true
His agent gets ready for the January/End of season transfer window
Levy rubs his hands at the thought of £20M
Spurs sell Berbatov for his true value and take the heat for selling the player
The penny drops for the 'faithful'
Spurs fans are mugged off

Sound about right, Daniel? How about you reply to me on this one? If I’m wrong I will change the name of this site to ‘I HEART LEVY’ and post a poem per day about my undying love for you and your shiny bald head. And in addition, I’ll move from the Park Lane End to the West Stand and eat bagels at half-time. I’ll even visit the Spurs Shop. No, not with my ‘BOYCOTT FASCIST MERCHANDISE – DON’T SUPPORT LEVY’S PERSONAL TRUST FUND’ sign. I’ll be armed simply with my wallet and will max out my American Express Paupers card purchasing the Spurs home shirt along with posters and scarf’s. You know that bloke with the megaphone that stands on Bill Nicholson Way preaching about Jesus Christ? I’ll have words and borrow the megaphone and spend pre-match telling the home faithful that you are the true messiah and not that pansy Hoddle. As for Jesus, always thought his life was slightly exaggerated in print. I mean, we all think Bogart said ‘Play it again Sam’ in Casablanca and yet he never did. So if we can’t remember something from 1942 which has been repeated about ten billion times, how the fuck is anyone certain about some words written down by a bunch of dudes a couple thousand years ago? Jesus was either a hippie or a student and the people that wrote the bible were probably just larking about trying to make a fast dollar. Anyway, this isn’t relevant, stop forcing me to go off topic!

It’s in your hands Daniel. I want a reply. I don’t expect you or Comolli to post a statement on the official Spurs site denouncing this letter. That would be a nice touch though. But if you want to prove your worth and your word, then take your balls out and stick them in my mouth. There’s no risk, is there? I mean, worst case scenario is I’m proved right and I bite them off. If I’m wrong and the statements the club and player have made are not propaganda, then I will have to suck them. And unlike Kyle, I won’t be running off in the opposite direction.

See, you and me Daniel, we’re not that different. Yeah sure, you’re rich. You picked up a cool million in ‘wages’ in the last financial year and live in a big house. Four bedrooms, possibly five. And your fitted kitchen is lush by the way. And that coffee machine, fuck me, wow. Where did you get that? Makes a mean cup indeed. I don’t have a mansion, I live in a flat. Two bedrooms. Though I use one of them as a living room. And my kitchen is quite smile, though I got a decent Brita kettle with those fitted filters. But ignoring minor differences in material possessions, we are not that different. We are both passionate about our beliefs. Except your beliefs are wrong. Time you stood up Levy, shaved those grapes between your legs and showed them to the world.

So, am I wrong Daniel? Am I? Is Berbatov really going to stay beyond January and the summer? I doubt it. And you know it. Its damage control, plain and simple. Much like the support for Jol in another one of the official statements on the site - and a month later he was gone.

Another day, another lie. And plenty of dollars on their way to the clubs bank account. I had a momentary lapse in concentration, believing and trusting the club and player over this, but I have seen the light. And that light has failed to blind me.

Yours 'wont be fooled for a second',

Spooky

Application for the Tottenham coaching job

Dear Mr Levy,

I would like to apply for the job as first team coach at Tottenham Hotspur.

My understanding is that the position is not officially or publicly on offer, however, I can read between the lines and its obvious to me that you require a fresh approach at the club, and as someone who understands football as good as any journalist or ex-pro I can offer something unique.

Unlike other potential appointments, I can clearly state that I am Tottenham Hotspur through and through. And as a fan, the expectancy of wanting the players to give 110% in all games will be made clear in the dressing room. I’m capable of shouting and throwing stuff around and let’s be honest, it can’t be that fucking hard to get eleven players to follow simple instructions.

Win the ball, keep the ball, push the ball, pass the ball, kick the ball, turn away and celebrate.

I’m happy to work with Martin Jol if you want to demote him to being my assistant. Won’t work with Chris Houghton though. Nothing personal. Just not sure what it is he does.

I’m available for a sit-down with Kemsley or whomever you want to send out to discuss terms. I won’t be packing any Nurofen, and don’t expect to get dizzy, but will keep an Aspirin on me in case the offer gives me a momentary head-throb. No need for web-cams, net-meetings or telephone calls. We can do this in a plush hotel or restaurant, or if you prefer I know a great pub in Wapping.

No, I do not have any coaching badges. Or any prior experience as a manager or coach in the professional game, in England or abroad. But I’m a snappy dresser and will look sharp in the technical box shouting instructions out to the players. I also have an air of arrogance that appears to be quite popular with today’s big name managers. Call it a verbal swagger. In post-match interviews I will use the media to mine (our) advantage, rather than being apologetic or sympathetic or saying funny stuff like ‘shitting it’ or ‘English cup of tea’. It’s obvious that the bigger the cunt you are the better the manager. I also have bad eyesight, which is obviously a bonus.

As a fan, I will select the players I believe are deserving of representing the club and will instill a never-say-die attitude. And with a true fan at the helm, supporters won’t be able to complain that I don’t know what I’m doing, because if anyone knows the best for their club it’s the person who watches them week in and week out - the season ticket holder. I am the voice of many. The voice of a collective. Think Locutus of Borg. More hair, not as pale.

I am happy to work as part of the continental director of football coaching structure with Damien Comolli. Though if you think for a second I will accept any old rubbish just because he scouted them, then we may have difficulties. I’m being upfront about this rather than allow problems to manifest at a later date. I’ll ask for the type of players I would like, he can bring me a list and I’ll select the one I want. And if I don’t like any of them, then I’ll use the Football Manager database as an alternative. If I ask for a defender(s) I don’t want you to buy me a £17M striker. In fact, fuck it, let’s just use FM. Save you a packet in wages and expenses. If you look closely at the stats it clearly shows Zokora’s first touch is pony. FM 1 Comolli 0.

Now, you’re probably wondering ‘what the hell’. I don’t blame you. I probably scare you a little. When I stand outside your bedroom window at night with my voodoo doll you probably think to yourself, what a strange young man. But it’s people like me that make football what it is. Unpredictable. I’m a maverick. A glitch in the system. An unexpected fart on the train. I’ll bring tactical awareness much like Jose (who never played the professional football) has done in his career that will lead to silverware.

I will drop players, no matter who they are. Yes, I will drop Jenas. I will demand they all play to win every ball like their lives depend on it. I’ll start with the basics like fitness levels, set pieces and closing down. You can hire qualified PE teachers for all the exercise stuff. In addition, a few rounds of British Bulldog and ‘Knockout’ will help with intensity.

Just make sure I have a blackboard and a piece of sturdy chalk, or if its in budget one of those Andy Gray toys, without the shaved talking guerrilla.

Robbo will be the first one to sit on the bench. Then he'll sit on the floor when it breaks into two. At the moment all opposition teams need to do is either have a crack from 30 yards out or dink the ball into the box (he’ll miss one out of ten). Easy pickings. Also easy not to pick him.

Tactically, I’ll do what any successful club does. An organised defence with a loud commanding central defender bossing the team. Midfield anchorman/defensive lion heart along with an attacking maestro (Diego at FC Porto will do if you want to start tapping up a player). Upfront, I will play two forwards who are in form and will rotate only when the second two forwards can still guarantee goals against weaker opposition.

Against Arsenal in the NLD we were spread more easily than margarine (copyrighted David Pleat). Fact is the players we possess in midfield cannot play to a system that isn’t clearly defined. The amount of room given to Arsenal was insurmountable. There is no intelligence with our play. It’s like asking a bunch of seven year olds to play Total Football. Play to your strengths with the players you have.

As for style of play, yes, I’m a purist. Entertaining football does bring success. And rather than go for the Chelsea school of thought, I will look to build a side that has all the qualities that Spurs fans demand with one major improvement. Backbone. Backbone in every sense of the word.

We attack relentlessly. If we go one up, from the kick-off we look to take possession and dominate midfield, then strike again. None of this sitting back lark. If we go 2-0 up, we play tenaciously, biting at the opposition and retain the ball and once more look to put the game behind them.

I’ll have them playing like Arsenal in no time.

You earn £40,000 per week? I want to see you sweat blood. I want eleven Terry Butchers. Just less ugly. And more skillful. A lot more skillful. In fact, scrap Butcher. I want eleven Dave Mackays, still running around even with broken legs. Shirt worn with pride and honour.

You let the fans down with a lacklustre performance in a North London Derby? Your wages are docked and they go into a lottery to be won by the fans (excluding the West Stand). At least that way they get something back.

Football management is about man management. I don’t need to have played the game for 20 years. It’s not a necessity. It helps, but let’s face it, anyone could do it. It’s just that there’s a secret club mentality with giving jobs to ex-pro’s, keeping them happy, prolonging their retirement plans. It’s like the police and the London Black cabs.

Also, let’s take the Big Sam Factor into consideration. Bolton Wanderers. Hard to beat, well organised, difficult to play against, good at counter-attacking. A bastard of a team to beat. Everyone’s favourite most hated side. Then, with the same squad of players, Little Sam manages to turn them into an easy to beat soft touch of a side that look like relegation fodder. Why? Because Little Sam doesn’t have the required skills to inspire the players. He commands little respect and no inspirational and motivational skills. Though when you attempt to emulate the former manager by wearing a long trench coat and earpiece, you’re just asking to be ridiculed. You stupid stupid little Peter Pan of a man. Stop with the self-humiliation and grow the fuck up.

Spurs players may feel the same about me. No respect because I haven’t played the game. Haven't won anything. Yet there’s a ton of managers out there who did play the game, pretty damn badly, and they’re in management.

Considering you appointed Santini, I don’t see that much difference. At least my eyes sit comfortably in my head and I speak the language. I’ll be far more media savvy too. Jol is media savvy though, bless him. With that menacing look turning to a sly cheeky grin. The big fat Dutch bear, I just want to hug him till he burps love bubbles.

I know that in most cases people would include their CV at this point. Much like that bloke who applied for the Boro vacancy, after McClaren left for England, with a list of his Football Manager achievements. I will not list my FM achievements, though winning the quadruple 3 years running and remaining undefeated at Fortress Lane for 5 seasons shouldn’t be something to ignore lightly (stature also built in my honour).

Instead, I simply ask you to give me three games. Just three games. Call it a trial. You don’t have to pay me. If I win all three games, then that will be proof (more so than a bunch of words on a CV) that I can do the job. If I have an unsuccessful stint, then we’ll share a bottle of vintage port, made an antidote or two and I’ll be on my way. I’m sure Gillingham will hire me and you'll be free to bring in Ramos for next season.

To dare is to do, Daniel.

Yours Hopefully,

Spooky

Dear Mr Levy: What use is an unloaded gun?

Dear Mr Levy,

Are you sitting comfortably? Maybe you need to push aside the metaphorical £7000 per night hooker (The West Stand) kneeling down in front of you and spit out the caviar (our hard earned money) because I don’t want you to be distracted by what I have to say. And if Chirpy happens to be down there too, ask him to get his friction burns another time.

I’ve just returned from White Hart Lane – The Theatre of Sleep Paralysis. I witnessed an inept display of dis-organised football, dosed with dollops of shambolic blips and embarrassing puddles of despair. Is it suddenly the turn of the century again? Is Pleat back at the helm? Moving a little forward on the timeline, I almost long for Santini and his bus.

What happened to the progression from the past two seasons? The ambition to iron out all the little quirks and problems? In two games we find ourselves rock bottom within touching distance of the wrong Championship. Six points behind everyone and in disarray. A relegation dogfight is already on the cards. Time to cash in on the lazy Berbatov to bring in some steel. Nigel Quashie should be available. He knows one or two things about dogfights. The cultured Berbatov doesn’t have the right tools in the box for what’s on the horizon.

'This shit is unacceptable'

For the love of God, Anthony Colossus Gardner is our top goal scorer. Why bother spunking all that money on Bent when we have a player who can defend and attack? He’s like a black Beckenbauer, except his English, shit and can’t defend or attack. Uncanny. Gardner is so bad he should be white and ginger.

All that pre-season hype and all those cute soundbites from Jose and Fergie have got your little band of brothers all punch drunk with the idea that they don’t actually have to do anything. Just turn up in their £5,000 suits and £100k sports cars and that will be enough. 4th spot will come running to them in a short little mini skirt and black high heels, biting its lip with anticipation. Open your eyes, you fools! Its not 4th spot. Its 14th spot, and it’s fat and ugly and will give you STD's.

Yes, the defence is depleted, and seeing Kaboul walk off was evil irony at its best. Leaving us with Chimbonda (leftback or rightback, you decide) and Stalteri - the one man wrecking machine who hasn't quite figured out what the football is used for. But the issue that no matter how good our forwards are (not very good at the moment) we will continue to struggle even with a fully fit defence on account of having the most unbalanced and backwards moving midfield in the Premiership.

Everton may not have been great in performance. Let’s face it they didn’t have to do much at all. They just waited for us to gift them a goal or three. But they still grafted their socks off. They all had individual responsibilities out on the pitch. We were a pathetic mess in comparison. At this rate, we’ll be relegated by Christmas. See, instead of paying money for young players and recommended foreign talent, we should have just brought in bland non-sexy workman-like footballers. We got beat by a team who have Phil Neville as the cornerstone of their defence. Why didn’t we bid for Phil Neville? No, instead, we go for Kevin Prince Boateng, cause he’s got a flash name and tattoos and should sell a ton of shirts and merchandise and might be the new Gazza. Another player who might prove to be decent in 3 years time. Always looking to the future, never the present.

'Its my mess. All my choices were wrong'

After the Sunderland defeat, I asked to see the following for the home game against Everton:

Organisation.
Balance.
Width.
Creativity from midfield.
Alert and slick forward play.
Strength of character in all areas.
Belief and self confidence.

The Magnificent Seven. And how did we do?

Organisation – The defence played like a post-apocalyptic group of starved imprisoned zombies who have been forced feed milk by a sadistic military special ops unit. They are confused and don’t understand what’s going on.

Balance – No balance or cohesiveness of any kind. The defence was put together by Blue Peter. All cello-tape and cardboard. The midfield was non-existent, like comedy on ITV. The forwards lost. Stuck in a hatch.

Width – Laughable. No Lennon, no width. Routledge made a cameo. That’s how desperate we are. All summer long - in fact three summers long, and still no answer to the left-hand side. Gareth Bale, our hopes and dreams are with you because Levy wouldn’t pay Petrov £70K per week. Criminal.

Creativity from midfield – One word. Arteta. That’s what we don’t have in our team. Someone to pull the strings. How dominant was he against Jenas and Zokora and our other midfielder, Keane? When will Jol realise that the midfield is imperative. It’s the heart of the team. Everton had the likes of Carsley doing all the donkey work. What do we have? Jenas, endlessly running into people or losing the ball. Zokora, endlessly running into people or losing the ball. Keane, endlessly running into people or losing the ball. Top 4? It’s not even mid-table, quality wise. Look at the other teams up there and look at their midfields, then compare them to what we have. That money you got for Carrick, after the usual tax-deductible yacht purchase is taken out off the profit margin, you could have spent it on someone decent enough to replace him. Phil Neville. Scott Parker. I wouldn't bid for Arteta. He'd probably turn to shit the moment he puts on the Lilywhite shirt.

Alert and slick forward play – None to be seen. A couple of moves, crosses and half-shots and the header from Berbatov, but all a bit average. None of that relentless attacking movement of the past two years that we have managed to muster up time and time again at home. There has been no style or plan in either of our two opening games. Are they training hard enough? Because a source close to the club suggests that Jol doesn’t have them do much running.

Strength of character in all areas – Completely void. No real heart. Nothing to suggest they felt hurt after the Sunderland defeat. No belief in themselves. In fact, it was all rather sympathetic. Losing a goal after 3 minutes summed it up. Spurs are the Kurt Cobain of football, gifted and tortured, preferring the easy way out.

'Lets whack this cocksucker and be done with it'

Belief and self confidence – I think Martin Jol loves Jenas so much, he’s started to mould the team in the shape and style of the player. Jenas, who probably still reads a scrapbook full of newspaper cut-outs of his rave reviews of when he was a Forest player, seems to be undroppable. He’s inaffective and without purpose. Seems the rest of the team are exactly like that too. No belief in their ability and no confidence to take on the likes of Sunderland and Everton. Its the dawn of the Jol Jenesis. And all the players have an invisible touch.

In a word, its a shambles.

So what if we have seven defenders out injured. What kind of excuse is that? And the lack of ideas going forward is worrying. Which begs the questions, why no Huddlestone? He was superb when he came on against Sunderland the other week. So mobile and sharp.

Where was the chance-creating machine, Taarabt? Ever present in pre-season, a reserve player since the start of it. This young Zidane cloned youngster is the saviour of this ruined club, and yet you and Jol have him wrapped up in cotton wool in a basement at the Lodge. Too wooden, is he?

You upped the prices of our season tickets. You allowed £16M and a bit to be spent on a forward that we arguably didn’t need. And all this talk of top 4 has resulted with egg over your chiseled manicured bald face.

'Just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in'

After Derby at home, we have Manchester United, Arsenal, Bolton, Newcastle and Liverpool with Fulham squashed somewhere in there for fun. I can hardly see any points gained in any of those matches. Jol must have 2, max 3, games left to save his job. He's gone from a rousing Churchillesque speech at the final home game of last season and rapturous applauds and hero worship to the sounds of disgruntled fans, baying for his blood, full of intolerable excuses and boo'ing the team off the pitch.

See how quick your empire can crumble? Thats the power we yield. We can place aside everything thats happened since Jol took over replacing them with 180 minutes played this season, such is are foresight and judgement.

Two games, two sets of 90 minutes and our season is over. Best we can hope for is 8th or 7th at a push, and a late one at that. Three years down the drain in a blink of an eye. With no understandable explanation. It's the Tower of Babel all over again, struck down before reaching the heavens.

Time for evasive action. Time to sell the dead wood and bring in some new blood. Time to start the search for a new manager. Time to scrap these stupid tours of Africa, which appears to be one of the reasons for our depleated squad and injury crisis. Even though we did win some silverware out there. Add that to the honours list, Levy.

All those wonderful cup runs of last year and superb free-flowing attacking football that saw us claim the right to be called the great entertainers, all flushed down the toilet with just the one attempt. The harsh truth is that the log wasn’t big enough to cause a blockage and survive. Wasn't strong enough. Just too soft and breakable. Too much fibre, that’s the problem. Not enough starch.

Yours Depressed,

Spooky