Saturday, 29 October 2011
Tottenham v QPR - here come the nice
It's impossible to say this without sounding patronising. And I retain the right to completely reverse my position after the game, but I quite like QPR. They're nice.
Very few of us, I'm sure, have QPR-supporting friends that really get on our tits with their constant arrogance, needling, aggression or triumphalism. They don't do that sort of thing. (And yes, the fact that they haven't won anything since 1967 or been in the Premier League since 1996 probably helps).
Their famous fans include Mick Jones and Mark Ellen. Top marks.
I like the ground. I like where it is. I like the walk to the ground. I like the pubs. We all love Sir Les.
QPR are a good, solid indie label of a team. Plus they didn't half stick it to Chelsea last week.
If we don't win tomorrow, though, I will burn a copy of Word magazine and smash a couple of Clash albums to pieces (Cut the Crap and Sandinista, I guess).
Because a series of weird results mean that whilst City disappear into the distance, everyone else is checking calculators and fixture lists to see if they're going to be second or seventh when Christmas comes. I'm gonna guess fifth for us. And the same goes for where we'll finish come May. I knew if for a fact last year - and I fear it as our fate this year.
That said, I suspect all I have to do is Tweet one grumbly remark about VdV being picked ahead of Defoe and he'll bag a hat trick. I will look 'stupid' - and – although most of you will have to trust me on this – very, very happy.