Are we on the road to greater things now?

The festive period (that is Xmas) wasn’t that festive, at least not for Spurs fans or even the team!

As somebody who works and breathes Spurs, it was a shitty Christmas. I expected Santa Clause to come down our chimney (a chimney that we didn’t have), collect his mince pies and vodka laced milk, and in return give me and what millions of Spurs supporters’ around the world wanted; 9 points. He pinched our mince pies, and Vodka laced milk and left sod all in its place (well, he did leave us 4 points). It is time to out him. He, who is dressed in red, including a stupid red hat, must tell you something about his impartiality? Never trust an old man with a white beard, dressed in red and who is eager to put children on his knee (remember Jimmy Saville, not quite Father Christmas, but had long flowing white hair and loved putting children on his knee... and I bet he came down a few chimneys as well).

To be fair, we did start the Christmas period well (forgetting the Chelsea game, as it wasn’t within the Xmas Twilight demarcation period time-zone). We beat Brighton 2-1 after a bad start. Yes, we wobbled. Actually, we played at a pedestrian pace during the first half but raised our tempo after the interval to fight back. But let us not jump the gun, we haven’t got to their goal yet. Their Webster scored in the 37th minute. We had to wait for the second half to get back on track. Goals from Kane and Alli knocked the stuffing out of the seagulls. And rightly so, we are Spurs, and we are challengers for a top-four spot and anything else we can grab on the way.

So… confidence was high. Who was Brighton, Norwich and Southampton anyway? Fudder for those that wanted higher things. So after the game, we quietly prepared for our trip to Norwich. And you know what they are best known for: mustard, manufacturing, shoes, literature -  and even fucking Alan Partridge. Norwich is also known for plenty, not least its historic city centre and thriving food scene. Football is nowhere on the list. So we are going to be ok. Another three points in the bag. Total confidence. You could smell the shit from here.

So, to Norwich, it was, just after digesting our Christmas dinner, pudding and the glorious drinks (well, I say “just after,” but it was the next day and that being Boxing day). Oh, to be a Spurs fan on the high… and we had Mourinho. Could it get any better than that?

Did you know that Boxing day was called Boxing day because the rich used to box up gifts to give to the poor? Boxing Day was traditionally a day off for servants, and the day when they received a special Christmas box from their masters. The servants would also go home on Boxing Day to give Christmas boxes to their families. What a lovely sweet thought! The bastards! Anyway, we are not here to talk about how the Masters’ treated their underlings (The bastards!).

So, Boxing day it was, it finally had arrived, and we were off to Norwich. Sadly, we didn’t continue our rise up the league table, and that was because our players had too much stuffing over Christmas. Not actually a defeat, but a draw (just).

Their Vrancic scored first before the first half whistle went. One-nil to them. Ten minutes into the second half Eriksen scored an equaliser. Ah, things are looking up, we thought. But then Aurier goes and buggers it all up by scoring for them (in his own net). You could have strangled the cat and tossed it on the fire, that is if we had a cat to choke and a fire to throw it on. Sadly, we just had the cold to vent our anger at. And of course, Aurier again. Seven minutes before the final whistle, Kane pulled our arses out o the fire with a penalty. Not good… not good at all (well, the penalty was… I meant the draw). Bloody Alan Partridge land and we couldn’t even get a win. The mustard shovellers must have been laughing all the way to Colemans.

But not to worry, we Spurs fans are quite resilient. To dare is to do and all that palaver. After all, we’ve got a cock as our motif, and no justifiable Spurs supporter can resist a cock. What more did we want?

Now a trip to Southampton, by the seaside, to waft all that clean air in and watch our beloved score (that is our team, not the faithful partner beside us).

Is it worth it to continue? Southampton is noted for its association with the RMS Titanic, the Spitfire, and as one of the departure points for D-Day. We were hoping for more Titantic than Spitfire, but Spitfire it was. Their guns blazing while our ship sunk. This time around we couldn’t even get a goal to cheer us up, well, apart from Harry’s, which was quickly disallowed for being offside. And to-boot he got a leg injury and was off.  No New Year luck for us. Beaten by a third rate club that spends most of its time struggling in the relegation zone.  When I see that bearded-red dressed-prick, I’ll give him what for! I said in my Christmas note, I wanted Glories and more Glories and he sent me a pile of shit dressed up as the Spirit of Pochettino’s last stand. That Pochettino’s ghost/ spirit or whatever you want to call it is determined to spoil Mourinho’s Good new year's resolution. Or is that revolution? Whatever, somebody got it wrong and now we must pick ourselves up off the floor and fight back, and quickly. We are Spurs, we are magic… our heritage says elite, not stragglers and strugglers to feed the likes of Liverpool, City and Leicester and anybody else you want to throw into the mix.

Let us hope better luck next time? And next time will be Middlesbrough in the cup, a competition we haven’t won since 1991. I know, I was there.