Spurs and Disco Benny Bring The Sexy
What a joy to watch that was. Full of life, effervescence and wonder. It moved, it didn’t move, it moved some more; it made the opposition’s efforts look like wet spaghetti in comparison. A shining light, a colossal effort. Disco Benny sported one of the finest haircuts in the history of, well, everything on Monday night. I could’ve stuffed a mattress with that mother and still had some left over to insulate my loft. Quite extraordinary.
The football on show wasn’t too dreadful, either. Much has been made of Villa’s daft tactics and general incompetence on the night (the ploy of sticking Emile Heskey on the wing smacks of a manager who’s either desperately thin on numbers or brain damaged) but that shouldn’t throw a wet blanket over what was a fairly terrific evening for the chaps in lilywhite and navy trim.
It’s one thing to say a team were so bad they made the other team look good; but quite another to say one team were so good they made their adversaries look like eleven bags of compost and twice as immobile. It was slick, gung-ho and downright abusive from Arry’s lot; the kind of performance that makes your heart sing and your innards bubble. Bale, Modric, Parker, Adebayor, Kaboul; I shan’t take up your time with a roll call. They all did splendidly. Have a look at this picture and tell me you don’t just want to bundle them, ruffle their hair and tell them they’re all doing just fine. We’re up to third, playing well, and, thanks to Benny, looking like absolute players(z) while we’re at it.
**Wishing a happy Thanksgiving to all our listeners across the pond. You’re all just fabulous.**
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