Rome wasn't built in a day

Dear Mr Levy,

Rome wasn't built in a day. But then again Rome wasn't built with plasticine. It seems that’s the main building block used by our centurions as they attempt to fathom the foundations for a brave new empire. Our putty like team of very small creatures is becoming stop-motion when it should be morphing and leaving all the goobledygook behind. It's the cause of missed heart beats. Are you as nervous as I am? You should be.

The last thing we want is for us to lose our grip on this very precious chance we've been given. You know exactly what I'm talking about. This season, nobody wants to do consistency. But at some point, someone, possibly more than one club will hit form. And if we're left behind then we'll be face palming well into the summer months at another lost opportunity. We don’t have to be great, we just have to be good. A little better than good will do just fine.

New stadium? Grand. Lovely. But that’s years away. And we've still got to get planning permission for it. And I can't be staring at photos of the proposed structure for the next half a decade whilst others travel around Europe visiting already built and populated stadia in the Champions League. Applause for all the sterling work off the pitch, with the business side of the club. I'm not naïve, I know that in this day and age the finances have to be strong in order for us to be able to spend £15M a pop on the latest player of the moment. Everything is primed and in place. It always has been. But that cutting edge in both decision making on a managerial level and on a chairman level has been left wanting. Leaving us with no cutting edge where it matters most - on the pitch.

You say, in a round-about-way that there is no money to spend on players. Meaning to sign someone we need to sell someone. Harry then comes out and suggests that all the proposed outgoing players according to the press are not actually going anywhere. And in the midst of all this we are meant to be signing Sandro. That's the Brazilian defensive midfielder, not Harry's better half. Classic word play there.

Obviously, what is said publicly is never a true reflection of what is going on behind the scenes, and that should be the case. No need to be in the know until the press conference. How we get there does not matter, as long as we do. As long as the conclusion is identical to the one the majority are hoping for. And in this case, the majority want to see certain players gone and brand spanking new ones arrive. You might believe that consistency regarding players is the way forward, but if some players are not capable of that, then consistency will never be forthcoming.

Recent results have highlighted that the team under Harry requires a bit of tweaking. By tweaking I mean gutting and by a bit I mean the same amount Jack the Ripper ripped out of his victims.

Harry has a monumental job in attempting to reshape a culture of comfort that exists deep in the psychosis of the club, no matter the players, staff or coach. The same niggling reoccurring issue of mental strength arises. Perhaps it’s our transfer policy and the ilk of players we traditionally bring here that are of a certain criteria that is only good enough for a mid-table to a rare 5th place position. Any player with true hunger for genuine success, looks elsewhere and we become a stepping stone for those who truly believe they can achieve more. Rather than those who don’t quite grasp the moment and remain content, chasing shadows on the field of play and women in bars.

Carrick moves on striding forwards with confidence. Jenas stays, picking his nose and chasing butterflies.

As a collective we constraint the entity that is Tottenham, eleven players, lacking a sustained balance to shift up a gear to the next level. From one generation to the next. It has to end. And doing it slowly slowly leaves no potential for a conveyor belt of club shop dvd releases. Score-draws are so yesterdays news darling. We want more. Much more. And we want it now.

It's time to throw more money at the problem at hand. It's the only way to fix it. No time for patience. No time to wait for the players to learn from their mistakes and grow together. They have taken us as far as they can. Harry (when he arrived) rid the club of the cloud of depression, got the players working as a unit, got us strong and capable away from home and lifted belief. But these blips we are experiencing are ones that are becoming detrimental to our immediate ambitions. It's because some of the players are punching above their weight and failing to land any shots.

The responsibility is split between yourself, the coach and the players. But one cannot move to resolve it unless the other two aid its attempt.

The blips need removing. Show Harry the money. Let Harry make the changes to the team and that will allow the team to turn from plasticine into something more quantifiable. Like Lego. You can build cool stuff with Lego. Like the Millennium Falcon. Plasticine doesn't do hyperdrive. And let's face it, Han Solo or Lando Calrissian sitting on top of a ball of clay in the midst of the Galactic Civil War is never going to be a cool or productive sight to behold. And remaining on this literal space kick...

Robbie Keane is playing football out of phase, like that episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation where Geordi La Forge's quantum state is out of sync with normal matter, leaving him invisible to all around him. Unable to influence anything or anyone around him. If I remember correctly, it was thanks to a transporter accident. Something that is quite possibly the reason behind Robbie's demise since his road trip north went south. He can't even be arsed to wave his hands around and shout anymore. That's the damage Rafa inflicted on this once crowd favourite. The player that made Berbatov look great.

Crouch isn't scoring the goals - proving that tall players are only good for hoofing the ball up to their head, and as he's useless with his head, he doesn't really do enough with his feet to warrant a place alongside Defoe. Honestly, that thing he does with his feet. You know, the controlling of the ball? Don't shout it out but I swear I've seen normally sized players do the same. Ssh.

And as for Defoe, over-rated. Scores five against Wigan then misses a penalty against Everton and does nothing against Wolves. That's all the evidence I need. He's due another loan spell.

Pavlyuchenko? I can't actually remember the last time I saw him play. Does he still wonder the aisles in the Tescos over in Waltham Abbey looking to pick up cheap dvd players with the aid of his interpreter? Can you perhaps email Comolli and ask him to forward the youtube link that he based his decision to sign him on? Perhaps we can sue the Frenchman for industrial sabotage.

The midfield requires more weight. And I'm not talking about feeding Huddlestone extra cheeseburgers. There is no leader, no one to scream and shout at the players. It's a fundamental basic ingredient. And it's missing. Talking of which, your poster boy Jenas is still knocking around. Doing what exactly remains a mystery. But there he is. There. Just standing, watching, as the world passes him by. Young English player with bonus sell-on value. So when the fuck do you ever plan on selling him then? HIS VALUE IS DECREASING WITH EACH SUNSET MATE.

And as for Hutton. Allow me to make a suggestion here based on what I know from experience. He was signed from Rangers. That's it. No more questions your honour, no more questions. Players that look good up in Scotland will probably be passable at a Championship side down south. I guess if the club spends £8M on Dean Richards, then £8M on Alan Hutton is a given. You know, cause we don't want to appear to be racialists.

Gio. Mexican. Likes to party. Doesn’t like to train. Played for Barcelona. He's going to be a mega star. He just needs time. More time. And protection. Just like Adel out on loan to QPR. Both world beaters. You just wait and see. Just wait. They can dribble, the lads. Get 'em playing for us. Recall Adel. Play Gio. I'm telling you, it's…okay, this one, it's going nowhere fast.

Even the good ones are struggling. Take Wilson Palacios who has gone from beast to Gruffalo. He has lost the tenacity and discipline to own the space between defence and the oppositions midfield. Like a key lost behind the sofa, he's busy looking for it in the kitchen. Its behind the sofa! The sofa, Wilson, the sofa! He just needs to refocus. Thankfully, that might happen with the aid of a little Croatian by the name of Luka. Small enough to fit his skinny arms and reach out for the missing key. But we cannot place all hope on his petite shoulders.

The back four changes it's line-up more times than Danielle Lloyd changes…ah, nah, I'm not going to go there. Way too easy. I'll be the first not to.

And don't even dare get me started on David Bentley. You know Dave, right? He's the one making mischief with the star jumping and the skip shooting. You can't miss him. He's wearing a wolf costume. And as punishment, Harry sends him to bed without his supper. And in his room a mysterious wild forest and sea grows out of his imagination and he sets sail to the Land of the Beck Things. These are smouldering good looking sexy creatures that Dave conquers by staring into their beautiful green eyes without blinking once and is made the King of all Beck Things. And he dances around with them in a not so but quite possibly metrosexual way and has much fun and then finds himself lonely and homesick so he returns to find that although his supper was left waiting for him, it was now gone. Yep. No hot supper. No, it wasn't Tommy. Not this time. It was patience. Patience ate his supper, his last supper. And as far as I'm concerned he can go back to his imagination land with his showboats and row z free-kicks if it means selling him to any mug willing to take him off our hands.

The problems we have, they are obvious ones. Do not allow complacency to ruin it. Remove the dead parts. Replace them. And then work with the improved group to further improve their state of mind. Your job is to make sure that Harry has the support to birth consistency before we lose our way completely.

All this is quite possibly in hand already. So I guess this just serves as a reminder of what I'm expecting. Because you know, us fans know exactly how a football club and team should be run more than anyone. Take note and get back to me at the end of January.

Regards,

Spooky