Guess who's back, back again
Spooky's back, tell a friend
Guess who's back, guess who's back
Guess who's back, guess who's back

I've created a monster, 'cause nobody wants to
read click bait no more they want Spooky I'm blogging dynamite
well if you want Spooky, this is what I'll give ya
a little bit of satire mixed with some lilywhite
some rum that'll jumpstart your heart quicker than Kane
when I get stunned at Wembley by the Poch when I'm enjoying it
when I'm rocking the chants while he's destroying it (hey!)
you waited this long now stop debating 'cause I'm back,
I'm a fighting cock and a God in the sack


Anyways, enough of that...

I'm back...stronger fitter faster yet still capable of slowing it down to tantric levels like the massive emotive bastard I am. Whilst the sex pests dribble their lethargic bile and self loathing disdain for what they perceive Tottenham Hotspur to be, I'll continue to ride the unicorn across the rainbow whilst biting into hash cakes sprinkled with magic mushrooms. 

I'm full of zest and thirst for glory. Any kind will do. The type we've come to expect over the years (the echo variety) or perhaps a dream that ends with ribbons on a cup. But mostly the one where I wake up in the morning and knowingly remember Tottenham chose me. I belong, that’s enough. I don't care about projecting and deflecting personal misery away from real life and through the conduit of support because when this season ends another will start and I'll still be part of this beautiful and often messy football club. 

During the past fifty days or so (during my absence), we've rediscovered a little bit of our mojo with only the occasional blip of form (and head scratch) including the dropped points away to Soton. That sickening sound you can hear is the Europa League Klaxon calling out our name. Our players must have got tapped up during their mid season Barcelona camp. Eriksen is probably still there, handcuffed to a lamp post outside the Nou Camp. Although some critics will claim he was on the pitch during Sunday's damp disappointment. Another invisible performance from the not so Great Dane. Ooh ah.

/seriously tho - Injured players have started to return whilst others have found that missing spark and one or two appear to have misplaced it altogether. In amongst it, Sissoko persists with Sissokoing. As for Harry Kane, there are no words to describe this magnificent colossus. A year away from our home and it's going pretty much going as expected.

I'm guessing Poch is no longer 'fat and clueless'? Is Dele still being targeted for being young, rich and black? How's that book Guillem Balagué wrote that inspired our players to turn against the gaffer? Did I miss the episode where they made him walk the plank? My God it's been rejuvenating watching them play without the poisonous baggage of commentary from people I will never meet or care to know. I guess he's still fat though what with the 1-1 at St Marys and the next three fixtures striking fear into the heart. Spurs crisis imminent. We're only good as our last result, right? 


Belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year yiddos. 

How you all doing?

Firstly, my sabbatical. I've done this many times in the past. Nothing new. Sometimes I need a reboot. However, what happened outside of the digital hellmouth we share sent a jolt of reality through my spine (literally, long story) and woke me up to how ridiculous most things are when perceived from the outside looking in. Especially online. My perspective has been redefined. There's this weight of importance tagged onto ego that pretty much equates to nothing and yet it becomes something because we acknowledge it. I guess I choose to see right through it all and it means...absolutely nothing to me.

All that validation and fight to push a particular ideology was a waste of time. At least in terms of the weight and value I associated to it. I felt that I wasn't really enjoying any of it, the blog or Twitter. I dare you to take a break and then return to your online haunts. Note that the same people will be regurgitating the same bullsh*t in the exact same way. It really drills home how much of a parody it all is. You know all of this already. Lol, I’m regurgitating too. Time to kiss all of this goodbye. Time to kiss the past goodbye.

I guess I should practise what I preach more tentatively; don't take life too seriously. Football included. Thing is, I've been writing for over ten years now (coming up to the 11th). I'm a f*cking juggernaut. You can't stop me. Yet sat here, I remain just a bog standard Spurs fan, not special at all and although I'm uncomfortable with it...I'm someone that people gravitate towards because of what I write - love or hate. The sheer number of people that reach out to me, on here and in person, is something I can't ignore and as much as I bang on about this place being personal therapy, I feel that I owe you all, to add another decade on top of the one I've already given. Thankfully for you lot my ego is harmless. No narcissistic corruption here, I promise.

So LOL @ the suggestion this blog and its community has been destroyed/ruined. Jesus wept, take a look around. Social media, forums or whatever, the ever present kool-aid is man versus man. Abusing, trolling, hating. This place isn't much different to the next. The thing is, I'm still here and so are you no matter the masked IP addresses or conspiracies. If anything, it helps to bind it all together even more. Whether you're anonymous or driving a demented Machiavellian trip, you're still contributing. DML always wins, no matter the score. Moderation in the back end going forward means the site bots will pick up certain antilogarithms and bin 'em. But don't fret too much about it, the only 1984 I care about is that glory night at the Lane.

I guess my point here is; they remain words posted digitally. A minority of words in amongst the majority of spirited discussions and disagreements. They only take meaning and have influence if you choose to embrace them. Make something that’s small into something big and it will consume you. Ignore it and it no longer exists. Take back control and own it. Enjoy the f*ck out of it. These are echoes of what I posted 50+ days back. The difference now is, I genuinely give zero f*cks.

Someone shared a Tweet in a Whatsapp group a few days back. It related to a Spurs fan complaining about our failure to sign all the targets we've been linked to in this window (as if any of the targets were real and not made up media nonsense). He lost his sh*t, stamping his feet and demanding enough is enough 'we need to win something or else'.

Or else what m8?

The club self destructs? Chirpy's battered thighs gets fried and served up with chips at Chick King? I can't help but laugh out loud. I feel no urgent need to validate or rationalise my viewpoint on 'our progress' and the 'project' or whatever. It's all so trivial. I'm one man amongst thousands of voices. My opinion is as justifiable as the next one, even if the next one is the polar opposite of mine. I have no idea how this stance will translate into daily/weekly blogs. But one thing is for certain, you'll have to accept whatever it is I write...and enjoy the f*ck out of that too.

The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. So please do get a grip and deal with it. I built a momentum to myself, knocked it down. Gonna build a momentum to Tottenham.



Up next...FOOTBALL. Probably.