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Girl Who Likes Balls – Tottenham Hotspur

It’s Happened Again!

Chelsea 2 North London Jellyfish 0 – Wednesday 27th February 2019 20:00

Ahahahaha, another season, no home, no trophies and a deep sense of emptiness for a club that one week ago thought they might just win the league.

In the News: The fallout from Kepagate/Sarri’s tantrum continued after Sunday. Apparently Kepa was a pariah, despite being very apologetic, Big Willy was p*ssed off and the camp was split down the middle and highly sympathetic of Sarri. AC Milan don’t want Higuain back. Wages are too high. Want to know where your flag was on Sunday? Apparently they weren’t fireproof, so Wembley wouldn’t let them in. Chelsea then spent £120,000 (give or take) on buying all the scarves in the Wembley storeroom at sticker price and putting them out, at which point people moaned that they didn’t get one (guilty) or that they had just purchased one outside only to get one for free. And demanded their money back.

Chequebook Pulis has been yapping again. Apparently he’s plotting a return to Real (as well as Inter) and thinks Hazard will fit in well. What are the odds on Eden wanting to play for him again after he got fat on quarter pounders and refused to do anything last time he was his boss? And this week CP is blaming the scouts for his failure at United. Everyone is injured up there – Ole has broken them all. Bet Fred still can’t get a game. Podgettino faces a touchline ban after screaming in Mike Dean’s face at Burnley. After telling someone else they were a mercenary for leaving Celtic for Leicester, Brendan Rodgers has left Celtic for Leicester and even if we are a complete clusterf*ck, at least Icardi is nothing to do with us. From what I can gather his wife Wanda is his agent, and they are nutjobs and he is now at war with the club, his teammates, his manager and the Inter ultras. Watch us sign the lunatic.

The Others: No upsets, tho City cut it fine with a single penalty in taking the points over West Ham. London is awash with Blues from America so we did some predictions in the pub:

Chicago: “We are smashing those f*cks 2-0 or 4-1 it’s in my bones.”
San Francisco: “I would love 4-0 but I think 2-0.”
Dallas: “3-2 Hell yeah!”
And, randomly, Hillingdon: “I feel something good, 3-1 like the old days, theirs will come on 78 mins.”

Us: Drops Kepa. Mixed messages – a wash of coverage telling us it was a misunderstanding and then he benches him. Which providing we didn’t lose I don’t think anyone really had a problem with, so long as this is the end of it. No Emerson. This enraged me on principle. If a player does really well there should be reward, progression. Otherwise you end up with a dressing room full of sulking and anarchy.

Them: Scanned the pitch and couldn’t see a giant meathead looking like walking and breathing at the same time was the most confusing thing ever, so presumably Dire is wandering round North London in full kit, lost, with dirty knees and his finger stuck up his nose. No Diving Little Sh*t either. Probably arrested for crimes against fashion after those hideous Boohoo adverts. No Danny Rose to start, which robs us of the chance to sing “Cry in a minute.”

A lively start from the diving scum, but we were by no means overrun. In fact, pretty soon we began to give as good as we got. Gilt edged chance for Higuain on 5, we all thought he’d stunned the keeper but it smacked off the inside of the post. Unlucky. Already niggling each other. Was loving our determination to win the ball back in the opening spell, admirable determination to get in there and kick them to get it back. Pedro Unicorn (for verily he deserves a f*cking upgrade after last night) couldn’t quite get his head properly on another cross on 7. At the other end Son had already thrown himself to the ground twice and been told to pack it in by Marriner. Surprised PGMOL gave this one to lurch but as it turned out he wasn’t that bad tonight. We looked much the stronger in midfield, which makes a nice change. Handball shout in the box on 11. To be fair to Ben Davies, because he’s fit, (though obviously you’d have to wear gloves because he is Sp*rs) he was trying to drag himself out of the way. Another shot soon after, but it fell to the white man’s answer to Mikel (Kovacic) and went 30 foot over the bar. Easily on top so far, with some great passing in tight spaces. First to everything it seemed, though actual shots had been at a premium so far. They were feeding off scraps, but we all know that means little in the world of Chelsea.

An absolute gift from Lloris on 18 with one of his regular brain farts. Passed the ball straight out to Higuain, who hit it decisively, but it swung wide. The game was getting more bad tempered as the half went on especially after some cheating from Harry F*cking Teflon Kane, who should have been sent off for a head butt action on Dave. Not least for the trauma suffered by the defender when he got a face full of slobber. Shot high from Kante on 38, then one of their whinging muppets cracked the bar shortly before the break. We’d pressed high, and done well at smothering them on the ball, but nobody’s efforts had yet been on target at either end, so 0-0 at halftime was hardly surprising. And actually not depressing, though that might have been the gin.

Real intent as soon as the second half kicked off, but still no end result. Higuain scored on 53 but was flagged offside. Sooner or later we’re going to have to manipulate a shot on target to go with all of this effort, right? RIGHT! Pedro Unicorn! Dave played him in and he had absolutely no right to find such an easy pass by Lloris. Then again, it helps when the goalkeeper is probably p*ssed. 1-0.

Hazard off for Willian on 58 in what was a very astute change, where is this suddenly coming from? Eden looked leggy and you absolutely couldn’t remove Pedro Unicorn, because he it was like he had sprouted wings and was high on fairy dust. I’ve grown accustomed to not expecting common sense with out substitutions. This sp*rred the rotten bstards into life. KICK THE C*NT! Screamed Gonzo (Special alias) as Son fannied about on the edge of the box looking for an opportunity to dive. Nothing they could muster could find a way through our defence. The inclusion of the much maligned (by me too, I admit it) Alonso tonight did nothing to shake the rock hard foundation we managed to muster at the back at the weekend. Claims we booed him were b*llocks. Rudi was the excellent and Luiz was in Munich Mode as the night wore on. He was a beast. They were all outdone on the hour, however, by Pedro Unicorn who put in the defensive tackle of the season so far to rob Sp*rs in the box, then skipped round another one of the a*seholes and ran off with the ball. If Sideshow was a beast tonight, then Sissoko was an animal. There’s a difference. Clattered into anything that moved, smacking people about off the ball and then crying like a little b*tch baby every-time someone touched him. Wanker.

I don’t think we necessarily intended to fall back and defend but they definitely pushed us there. And yet, here was another positive substitution! On came Ruben for Kovacic. F*ck me. Refwatch: Andre Marriner in charge. Actually had control of the game, which is a first in this fixture, but is a massive bellend for not sending off the dribbling chimp. Hilariously, Mike Dean, who was the fourth official after overseeing Podgettino’s hissy fit at Burnley, ended up running the line. Two games for Sp*rs featuring him in less than a week, and they’ve lost them both. I officially love Mike Dean now. In fact, details of how to sponsor this blog via Patreon are below. I’m considering ploughing the money into sending him to every one of their games, home and away.

First Sp*d change. Son stayed on his feet long enough to f*ck off, a miracle. Replaced by Maura. Higuain didn’t have the best game, but he was a gnats fart away from scoring and could have had another, and his effort was not wanting. Off he went for The Beard on 82. No sooner has that happened than Kieran Trippier has a brain fart that made Lloris look like a f*cking genius. In trying to pass the ball back to said keeper he booted it right past him and into the goal. We couldn’t have placed it better ourselves. More like a brain implosion. Total shutdown. Wouldn’t be surprised if he shat himself and forgot his own name at the same time. Know what makes it better? Swedish Sp*rs podcast tweeting at the beginning of the second half: “I don’t want to jinx it but Trippier has been phenomenal.”

Oops.

Podgettino’s response? (Other than eating his body weight in sausage in the dressing room after) Brings on Danny Rose for Sissoko. A Sarriesque, wank substitution if ever I saw one. Only Sarri appears to have been body snatched. Their fans couldn’t get out of the ground fast enough now. By this point, Knobhead, my one Gooner friend, was getting very excited on a WhatsApp. Apparently we stole “It’s happened again” from them, but in this case L’Arse are willing to share. Who gives a f*ck what happened for the last five minutes, they were beaten. “Hugo Lloris Don’t Drive Me Home” we can claim though. A rousing chorus of “You’ve had your day out, now f*ck off home” as Kane assaults Luiz. Almost a punch up. First two yellow cards of the game, one of which for a player who could have been sent off a second time.

So: Well. Sarri has for the time being, completely turned it around. He’s not actually Sarri anymore. Not only in results, but in his entire conduct of running a football match. Forgive me for being so shocked by this, but as a girl, you have to understand that this is a MAN, who has been told repeatedly that he is WRONG, who has actually not only LISTENED but changed the way he does things. In the history of humanity, this is f*cking unprecedented. The only explanation I can think of is that after the United game, someone, probably Willian, he likes a good player revolt, offed Sarri and shoved him in a biffa bin. But not before someone who looks potentially psychotic (let’s go Kovacic) skinned him. Ever since it hasn’t actually been Sarri on the sidelines, it’s Guus Hiddink wearing the resulting bodysuit as a disguise. Smoking the odd fag to make it convincing. You heard it here first.

AC

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