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.
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?
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.
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.