after the library, a take away

credit to 606er (Galvin and Stacey) for this one. We have to gloat and bask while we can.

2-3 MEAL DEAL

STARTERS
Hard Cheese & Sour Grapes
Prawn Brigade Cocktail
Roasted Walnut
Poached egg (on face)

MAINS
Humble Pie, (cooked with goons fat)
Mashed Spuds*


EXTRAS
Pat Mullered Rice
Garlic Breath
Cheesy wums

BEVERAGES
Whine
Bottled Water**
Flat Champagne


*Off the menu
**due to unforseen cirumstances all stock has been damaged

Arsene Wenger takes defeat like a man

It was the water's fault! It's the wrong types of water! Putain de bordel de merde!

What else is there to say...I am buzzing

FIFA narrow goals an inch and forget to tell anyone

Talking of humiliation:

Arses V Spurs

If, as most of us do, Spurs fans accept that the usual roller coaster of a season will continue as normal then Saturday's game against the Woolwich Wanderers will be a dismal affair. Afterthe shockingly brilliant performance against Inter at the Lane I was actually excited as we drove towards that monument to banality that is the Reebok Stadium a couple of weeks ago. I joked that we'd probably play like donkeys but felt that we couldn't be that bad. In fact we weren't that bad. We were worse. It was abject from front to back of the team. Half decent Lancastrian pies didn't go far to ease the pain. Pav's goal was the only hight point in a game that made Bolton look like title contenders.

The draw with Sunderland in the week has only just been made to look half decent after their annihilation of Chelski but we were back to winning ways versus Blackburn. The peak of the roller coaster upturn was not the end of the game mind you. It was about 65 minutes in when we should have been cruising comfortably at 4-0. As is usual with both roller coasters and Spurs the downward rush was fast, shocking and yet pretty predictable. Only Spurs could panic at 4-0 and, to be honest, it could have been 4-4 at the end. Mind you, it could just have easily been 10-6. Defences are often likened to leaky buckets full of holes but Spurs' is more like the Maginot line: A big no entry sign in one or two places but some bloody obvious and easy ways round. Gallas is Belgium in this analogy.

With all that in mind we have some way to go before our cart rumbles towards another upturn. Our only hope is that we get there before the end of the Arse match. If we keep the first half down to 3 or fewer goals against we might prevent humiliation by getting a couple back. I can't say I'm looking forward to it.

so near yet so far yet so near

My prediction of doom looked well and truly fulfilled on Wednesday when, after 10 mins, Spurs were a goalkeeper and two goals down to Inter in the San Siro. When it went to 4-0 the boy and I had even given up swearing at the TV. The incredible hat trick from Bale in the second half means that the record will show a close match and an exciting one. The latter is true but not the former. Still we proved we can score against them. Well, we proved that Gareth Bale can score against them. When that third one went in the boy leaped out of his seat and let out a guttural "YEESS" which then turned into a weird squeak. His voice hasn't been the same since. I then stupidly became optimistic and thought we could do it but the ref had had too much and blew up far too early.

Saturday versus Everton was the very definition of lacklustre. 1-1 suggests a touch of excitement but really I got more of thrill vicariously when seeing the enjoyment of a mate from South Africa who had come to his first Spurs game. I sat in the East Stand away from the rest of the crowd and had to endure a commentary on the ref, a lot of moaning and tutting whenever anyone tried to join in the singing. I may have had a better view than normal but I'm not sitting there again.

Score prediction

I'm often less than optimistic when it comes to predicting Spurs results. When we are playing someone like Doncaster in the Carling Cup I imagine complacency, fluky goals and humiliation. It may have happened on relatively few occasions but those moments are seared on each Spurs fan's memory and tend (in the mind of the pessimist) to overshadow the times of triumph. I do sometimes (usually foolishly) lurch from pessimism to optimism but tonight, at the thought of Spurs' challenge in the San Siro, I am laughing much like a man condemned to death. I feel a 3-0 or worse coming on. I know Rafa has replaced Jose but can't get past our defensive frailties.

Paper

I can't keep on top of it. My colleague has a clear desk and a few neat, ordered piles on the periphery. I can barely get to my keyboard to type this. I have a to do list and keep ticking things off but it doesn't seem to diminish the amount I have to do as I keep having to add things to it. "Tidy Desk" always seems so unimportant compared to the other things and, anyway, I don't really know how to tidy my desk. It sounds stupid but it's part psychological, part cognitive dysfuntion I think. I like order. I like tidyness. BUT I am not naturally inclined to achieving that. If literal suffocation or drowning in paper were possible I'd have been dead long ago. Instead I plough on with a permanent sense of foreboding whilst dressing frequent paper cuts.

Werner Von Braun said: "We can lick gravity, but sometimes the paperwork is overwhelming". My 'gravity' is teaching. I'm pretty good at that.