The Book of Daniel - Exile
The 12th chapter in the epic Book of Daniel by Ryan the Perplexed (guest-blogger).
By Ryan the Perplexed (a guest blog)
And so the Tottenhamites were banished to wander the desert of Wemb-Eli for a year. And they grew greatly vexed and complained to Daniel:
'After laying waste to the Goonites, finishing second and talking of our new Promised Land, why didst thou bring us out to this soulless desert to die? This place is a barren, haunted wasteland, populated by evil spirits and dreadful memories. Our enemies will be emboldened and try to smite us without fear. Yea, and they were once aggrieved and weeping when they beheld the High Road and it's gruesome splendour. Now, the atmosphere is awful and we miss our home. We cannot win here and we will disgrace ourselves once more in front of the eyes of the world!'
And so Daniel panicked and brought forth Llorente and Aurier which only made matters worse. For Maurice was blessed in the eyes of the Lord and wrought miracles, though he could do nothing about improving Sissoko. But Maurice roused the Tottenhamites from their miseries and they started to prevail at Wemb-Eli. Maurice managed to bring great victories to the Tottenhamites and banished the curse of Wemb-Eli.
And as the team rose in the table, a wailing was heard from across the Salty Sea. The Kopites grew greatly perturbed by the victories of the Tottenhamites, and saw Kane as inferior to their own Pharaoh. 'Thou deceived us at Anfield. None are permitted to do so, lest they encounter our unhinged, gurning Klopp! In our land, there is only good or evil, and good can only be garbed in red, watching the Sun as it spins around us all the days of our lives'.
Kane led from the front, continuing one of the greatest resurrection stories since Bale of Nazareth rose from the dead against Peterborough in 2010. Nothing was beyond the Tottenhamite talisman who combined skill, strength, humility and an overriding hatred of anything Goonite to spur him on.
And a great revenge was wreaked on the Chavites at the final Battle of the Bridge. After many years of shame and great travails, the curse was finally broken. The Chavites seethed, their great spell of sorcery broken as they sat there spitting rage, like great, hate-filled pumpkins a few minutes after midnight. The dream was over, the Roman was leaving and soon Stamford Bridge would once again be alive with the sound of balls bouncing off the windscreens of cars parked along the track of dogs.
After many years of suffering, mockery and violence - mainly by the hands of the treacherous Goonites themselves, Wenger the Blind was finally cast out in the wilderness. A scapegoat for sins for generation after generation. The Goonites greatly rejoiced in the demise of their hated saviour, until they remembered that Kroenke the Quiet would chose the next king to reign over their pathetic hordes. Possessed of a face only a mother could love, and a charm only a Goonite could ever appreciate, Unai the Least Worst Choice was installed on the Throne of Sulphur.
Daniel beheld the wonders of Maurice and another season of Champions League football. The Tottenhamites would never forget the night Real Madrid were slayed, with Dembele beasting Ramos and Zidane's head growing increasingly scarlet.
With the New Temple nearly ready, the land shook to the sounds of 'It's Coming Home', as Spurs players wrought miracle after miracle at the World Cup. Alas, for Daniel, naming rights were certainly not coming home. After trying for a mere seventeen years, no benefactors of great wealth were prepared to come forward and support the Sanctuary. This was in great contrast to the Tottenhamites themselves, many of whom had paid over their life savings to sit in the new stadium for one season, hoping to catch a whiff of Daniel's Room of Cheese and see their heroes play.
Daniel knew that neither he nor the Tottenhamites had ever had it so good since the days of old. And Daniel managed to handcuff Maurice and Kane with chains of gold. Rumours abounded amongst the Tottenhamites of eye watering war chests to propel them to a bright future.
And Daniel, his ears ringing with sound of silver rolling in, decided to reward Maurice and the Tottenhamites by doing something no-one had ever done before. An act so astonishing that it would confuse the minds of all who tried to contemplate it. 'Yes', thought Daniel, 'Maurice wants us to be brave, so brave is what we will be! There are many clubs on the face of the earth but there is only One Hotspur. Has there ever been a window when a solvent football team doesn't sign a single player? Has there ever been a time when you cannot possibly waste any money?! No more Sissokos, Jansens, Njies, Stamboulis or Nkoudous! No more rapid depreciation the moment you realise that my plan c deadline day signings are hopeless wretches! No more Berbatovs, Modrics, Van der Vaarts or Klinsmanns either - but no fear- the mighty Dembele will surely last another season without injury'.
And Daniel stunned football with his wisdom, bravery and foresight. The Tottenhamites did not it see it this way and their wailing and gnashing of teeth started even earlier than usual. And the great Temple opening was delayed further because it emerged that Daniel put in a last minute lowball bid for some fire alarms from a Ligue Un supplier which didn't work as expected. He was a man who never learned. The Tottenhamites were driven into paroxysms of rage as they would be cursed to suffer the pain of Wemb-Eli even longer.
And so Daniel and the Tottenhamites looked to the only one who could truly led them through the shadow of the valley of doubt. The one true prince. As long as he was berry, berry happy to carry them all on his broad shoulders, the Tottenhamites knew they would be safe. But in quiet moments, they trembled with fear at the thought of Maurice disappearing suddenly into the night like angel saving the life of a doomed man, then vanishing in a puff of smoke, leaving a stadium without a name, a people without a leader, a tribe without hope and just Daniel, alone in his office in the dead of night, his finger hovering over T. Sherwood or D. Pleat on his speed dial.
The Book of Daniel by Ryan the Perplexed