Our new Spurs manager, MoPo — welcome!
I am not a football chairman. I have no friends who are football chairmen. I’ve never hung out with football chairmen; never made drunken, misogynistic comments with them to help them impress an undercover journalist in an unconvincing ‘Middle Eastern billionaire’ costume. I’ve never spoken to a football chairman; never tried desperately to convince them not to blow their club’s revenue on superfluous items like decorative boardroom goldfish, platinum statues of their pop star mates, or Stewart Downing. I’ve never experienced any kind of intimate moment with a football chairman that may have given me some insight into the way they think; never snuggled up on a tanning bed alongside blonde bombshell Simon Jordan, or sat on the knee of kindly grandpa-type John W. Henry while he stuffed me full of Werther’s Originals and reminded me that, when he were a lad, this were all just baseball fields.
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