How to destroy Tottenham Hotspur


Meeting Room 666


Death - Settle down people.

<ring tone is playing 'California Gurls' by Katy Perry>

Pestilence - Sorry, I'll stick it on silent.

Death - War, please take the minutes. Famine, if you can run through the PowerPoint slides please.

Famine - As you can see from this graph we've maintained some consistency with productivity post-February. Every interjection was arguably a success.

War - Can you elaborate?

Famine - Sure. The England debacle. Chris Foy. Distracting Jermain Defoe with the laser pen at Eastlands. The capitulation at the Emirates. The phantom goal at Wembley. The dithering at Villa away. We have done everything in our power to dismantle Tottenham's season. We wiped away the ten point gap and yet here we are. One game left in the Premier League and they might still capture 3rd spot. And if they don't, there's still the question of the Champions League final to decide their fate. If we don't achieve our goals then our mid-year review will affect our overall bonus percentage and budget.

Pestilence - Budget?

Famine - Yes. We'll have to cut back on free fruit in the lounge area.

War - Ha.

Famine - Ha what? What is it? What do you have to say?

War - Just saying.

Famine - Just saying what? Go on then, say it. Your smug smile isn't painting us a complete picture of whatever it is that amuses you so much.

War - Well, firstly, you're using Comic Sans font for a PowerPoint presentation? Really? It's hardly the most professional of choices. And no matter how many swirly little animations you stick in there, no one is impressed with that ****, it's cheap and it's gimmicky. Secondly, this would not have happened if Harry Redknapp wasn't appointed in the first place. I warned you all. I told you to best leave it alone let, it fester, but you just had to hammer that final nail into the coffin.

Death - At the time it was the most appropriate thing to do. Spurs were bottom of the league and making sure Redknapp got the job was to consolidate their position, relegate them not save them. Nobody thought he'd save them.

War - Yeah, but he did. He did save them. They've been going in the wrong direction ever since.

<Door to meeting room opens>

Grim Reaper - Hello. Oh sorry, this isn't the yoga class is it?

Pestilence - Two rooms down the hallway to your left.

Grim Reaper - Cheers dude.

<Door closes>

Faminie - Akwaaaaaard.

Death - Lazy personification. I thought that wacko transferred out of here last month?

Faminie - Nah. He's banging the chick from HR. Have you seen his scythe recently? Rust covered.

War - Is the chick Betty?

Faminie - Yeah.

War - Daaaamn. Wouldn't mind tapping that. Her rack is majestic. I could declare nuclear war on those ti...<interrupted>

Death - Okay thanks, can we get back to the little matter of Tottenham please? So, let's agree the past is the past. What now? There are three games left, one involving Spurs, one involving Arsenal and then there's the game with Chelsea. What do we do to settle this? This project has to be done and dusted within a week and closed off until after the summer. We have to be decisive, we have to be ruthless. Brain storm people, conceptualise please. We've got ten minutes to wrap this up.

Pestilence - I'm thinking Italian again. Perhaps a spaghetti with meatballs dish or a vegetable Risotto?

Death - No. Won't work. They're at home to Fulham. No hotel.

War - I can visit Luka Modric on the eve of the game disguised as his football agent. A transfer request might do the trick.

Death - That's booked in for after the Euros. We've got a gentlemens agreement with the Daily Mail to break that story then.

War - The Daily Mail again? They make my skin crawl.

<Door to meeting room opens>

Dracula - Yoga class?

Death - Nope. Further down on your left.

Dracula - Thanks.

<Door closes>

Famine - How about Jermaine Jenas?

Death - He's injured.

Famine - I can un-injury him.

Death - There's a difference? The fifth horseman is better kept in sleeper mode.

Pestilence - Seriously, you need to taste this vegetable Risotto. Taste it and it will make you bleed worms out of every pore in your body.

Famine - Enough about the Risotto already!

Pestilence - Hey, it's not my fault you've been on the Atkins for two thousand years. I keep telling you to try that milkshake diet, but do you listen? No.

Famine - Don't judge me.

Death - I think you look good.

Famine - Thanks. What about this suit? Does my bum look big in it?

Death - You could turn a waterfall into a dessert with those hips.

<Door to meeting room opens>

Santa Claus - Hello, I'm looking for...

Pestilence - Down the hall way.

Santa Claus - Thank you kind sir.

<Door closes>

War - Nice chap. Him and Rasputin make a mean badminton pair. Any ways, moving on, maybe we shouldn't bother doing anything.

Pestilence - What?

War - Let's not do a single thing with Tottenham themselves. Let's think outside of the box.

Death - Explain more.

War - No matter what we try, it doesn't do enough to kill them off. They're still biting away at the ankles of success. So, what if we don't do anything to them.

Pestilence - Not sure I see the pragmatism in that.

Famine - I think I understand. We let them balls it up on their own?

War - No, no. These are not the glory years of the mid-90s to early 2000s. I'm saying that their destiny is elsewhere. Control their destiny, we control them.

Death - We've always had direct interference with this lot. Ever since we took on the contract. Remember the Holsten shirts in the 87 Cup Final? My work.

Famine - So we do what then?

War - Leave it to me. I'll make sure we're all swinging on hammocks this summer with Pimms in hand.

Pestilence - Where are you going?

War - I need to go get approval for company travel. I'll keep you all posted.

 

The summer of 2004


<Ding dong>

<door opens>

Marton Fulop - Hello.

War - Hey. How you doing buddy? Need a moment of your time.

Marton Fulop - You're not selling double glazing are you?

War - Ha, ha, no. What would you say if I told you I could change your life?

Marton Fulop - I'd be sceptical.

War - I'll make you an offer you can't refuse.

Marton Fulop - What did you say your name was?

War - Damien. Damien Comolli. I'll like to sign you for Tottenham. This will be the greatest and most important decision in your life.

 

WBA v Arsenal, last game of the season, 2012 season


Marton Fulop - Twelve clubs. Twelve flipping clubs. None to call home. What has my career amounted to? This. Deputising again. I'm going to be released after this game. Why do I even bother?

<Goal Arsenal>

Marton Fulop - Ooh look it's the ball, who cares. La la la la la.

<Goal Arsenal>

Marton Fulop - Why did I ever come to England? Christ, I'm bored. Why do these idiots keep running towards me? Leave me alone, I want to be left alone.

<Goal Arsenal>

 

Facetime conversation

Death - Nice work on the WBA game.

War - Thanks.

Death - How was Ben Foster handled?

War - Contractor.

Death - You going to Munich?

War - Don't have to.

Death - You don't?

War - Derren Brown is a good friend of mine.

Death - He is?

War - We frequent the same wine bar. He owed me a favour.

Death - And this favour is?

War -  Done. When it kicks in, Tottenham's dream will be over.

Death - Great, great. We'll catch up on Sunday. I've got to go. Got Steve Kean on the other line. It's going to be a difficult call, he wants to know if we've got any alternative jobs going. The bloke won't leave me alone. Seriously, his face around here? It just wouldn't fit in.

War - I'm with you, his face looks like death warmed...er...er...*cough*

Death - Warmed up? I look nothing like him! Jesus Christ, all this money spent on botox and still nobody ever says 'hey, hi, wow, you look great, you had some work done recently?' I'm a good looking bloke, damn it!

War - I think my wi-fi connection is about to go down. There it is. It's gone.


Champions League Final. Bayern Munich dressing room. Pre-match.

 

Jupp Heynckes - Okay, quiet down, quiet down. We need to focus, play our game and...and...my head...feels strange...yes, so we play our game...and...and...

Robben - You okay boss?

Jupp Heynckes - I...I...yes. Fine.

Robben - Boss?

Jupp Heynckes - I...I...I'm fine. Right then. Now...let's get out there and run around a bit and kick the ball, alright? Triffic. I want the midfielders to midfield and the wingers, you can wing it but if you want to roam you can roam. You lot, whatchamycallits, defenders, right? You lot play at the back and the strikers, I want you to score goals. Get up there, get in there and aim for the sticks. Lovely stuff. Win this and we're in the Champions League next season.

Robben - You sure you okay boss?

Jupp Heynckes - Yeah, just need to stick a tenner on a gee gee at Newmarket and I'll be sorted. Now get out there and do 'em proper. This is as good as you've ever had it. Up the Spurs !

<Jupp places arms around Robben>

Jupp Heynckes - Now then...

Robben - Yes boss?

Jupp Heynckes - If we get any penalties I want you to take 'em. Don't get nervous. Just think to yourself, what would my Sandra do?

 

N17, White Hart Lane, The chairman's office

 

Daniel Levy - Another glass?

Harry Redknapp - Pour away.

Daniel Levy - It's a vintage year this.

Harry Redknapp - The bottle or the season?

<laughter from both>

Harry Redknapp - Happy St Totteringham's day.

Daniel Levy - It's getting more difficult to achieve with each passing year.

Harry Redknapp - So what's the plan for the next one? Do you want me to pull the same stunt again?  You do know it's far more difficult to lose ten points than it is to gain them? A lot of work goes into botching things up.

Daniel Levy - You've done a sterling job Harry. I know I've said it a dozen times but the Gareth Bale free roaming thing? Genius, just genius.

Harry Redknapp - Triffic isn't it? Thought of it on the bog. Risky though. I mean, there was so much I could do and had Chelsea lost to Bayern...

Daniel Levy - I know, I know. We appear to have been blessed with luck. A substantial amount of it. It's almost like someone or something is...I don't know, it's like the Gods are on our side. Olive?

Harry Redknapp - Don't mind if I do. So, next season? You still want the same type of thing?

Daniel Levy - We'll see. Luka will be sold soon. I'll give you £3M tops from the transfer earnings for new players to be signed on loan, aged between 33-37. And to further retain the lack of long term stability on the pitch and to have a ready made excuse again for when it all goes belly up, allow me to introduce to you our new summer transfer window signing...You can come in now...

Joey Barton - Beware lest you lose the substance by grasping at the shadow. Believe those who are seeking the truth. Doubt those who find it. Even a clock that does not work is right twice a day. Oh, wherever he has gone, I have gone...

Harry Redknapp - Should I give him the captains armband now or later?

 

 

 

Previous chapters:

 

The Four Horsemen of the Spurcalypse

We're going to remove Harry Redknapp once and for all