Kyle Walker, taking down the haters…
Afternoon. I think this in the business is what they call a round-up. But, seeing as I’m not exactly sure what this business is, or even if I’m in it, I’ll just go ahead and scatter-gun some nonsense at you and see if anything sticks.
Tottenham pull Cheltenham out of the old F.A Cup hat, then. A fine draw by all accounts. I guess we’ll just have to hope they’re not…at the races that day? Hmm? Races? Cheltenham? Any takers? Oh come on! Don’t roll your eyes at me. Right, well, that’s just about all my A material down the toilet like a soiled pair of under-crackers, why not let’s talk about Spurs’ latest flirtings with the absurdly good in what was a largely piss-easy win over Northern chancers, Bolton.
Another day and *yawn* another victory for the Hotspur point-amassing juggernaut. It’s all getting a bit silly now, if you ask me. What ever happened to the fun old days of running around like berks for ninety-minutes and getting done over by Wimbledon? Where’s José Dominguez, for example?
Anyway it looks like we’re persisting with this ‘win every game’ routine so I guess we’ll just have to get used to it.
I read somewhere that Kyle Walker had a 100% pass rate this weekend; 44 successful passes of which something like 19 were key and 10 long balls. Now I’m no fancy pants mathematician (seriously, I’m not) but that strikes me as an awfully good return. Have you seen the boy run, too? Mercy.
Cahill’s sending off was a fairly ludicrous decision but I don’t think it’s flippant to suggest that it would’ve made little difference to the final result. On the contrary- in many ways his ejection probably helped keep the scoreline down; in that their reduced numbers forced Bolton into a buttocks-to-the-wall siege for the remaining minutes. Or as they called it: I sure hope Jussi Jääskeläinen keeps this up. In his brief cameo, poor Gary was run to absolute tatters and his teammates didn’t fair much better afterward.
I watched an episode of Masterchef a few months back in which a rather flustered ladywoman was placed firmly in the cack- cooking, as she was, for some prickly restaurant critics. With the pressure on, her work-station was a culinary graveyard of things either melting, not setting, or on fire. A right bloody mess. Anyway, in the final couple of minutes or so- with things very much still ‘buggered’- she went about cutting a sizeable wedge out of one of her fingers. Accidental I’m sure, but it did save her from having to serve up a plate of pig swill for the uncompromising foodsters. Not sure why I mentioned that, really.
I’m going to see what’s in the fridge.
**Winner of the ‘Let’s Kick Blatter Out of Football’ t-shirt by Philosophy Football is a Mr. Ollie Milton. Well done to you, sir.**
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