Beef Bagel

I haven’t had the privilege, no the joy, of taking the tube today. You may be detecting some sarcasm here but in fact you would be wrong. I can only imagine how many newspapers of all shapes and sizes are littering the carriages of old London town as The Bagel writes. How many beautiful, beautiful pictures adorn the vomit soaked upholstery? How many joyous headlines in 78 point font spilling out onto every platform, throwing themselves at our retina? Even the filthy London Lite and their useless reporters cannot fail to show us the high praise, which is rightly ours today.

Best performance of the season? The Bagel says yes. Not a single weak player on the pitch. The only person you could fault would be Keano for missing a couple of sitters but he played well and it’s always amusing to see him do the Robbie Keane Chop Suey. For those unfamiliar, just watch anytime he gets frustrated by refereeing, with which he does not agree, out come his arms and it’s Robbie Keane Cop Suey and a side of sweet ‘n’ sour bagels for me.

Berbatov was simply everything we’ve been waiting for. Man Mountain Tom Huddlestone was just that. Maybe not the same passing range but eat your heart out Michael Carrick. Ghaly is…no. No more. I’m saving my gushes for the match report. You can catch that in the morning or late tonight if you’re desperate for your Tottenham fix.

What I would like to do though is talk about a few other things around the game as prompted and well written by The Dave. See comments on yesterday’s entry.

As the coverage began myself and my mate Charlie, a Yiddo through and through, we’re thrilled not to have charisma vacuum John Barnes hosting the show. We agreed that as a pundit he’s certainly got the credentials but after 90 minutes of sheer John Barnes hosting hell, you’re going to get bored. It’s his strange clipped Jamaica come Watford accent (I’d wager those two places have never been mentioned in the same sentence before) and the way he is so obviously reading an autocue that looks to be 6 metres wide from margin to margin. So, it came as quite a relief to see Colin Murray, for whom The Bagel has yet to develop a hatred but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.

Before I could concentrate on anything the upstart Murray had to offer, I was immediately spitting chips at the choice of pundits, gibbering nonsense bag Pat Nevin and pure hallmark of the dismal, dismal days Tim Sherwood. In fact, the screen was covered in chips when I remembered some typically dreary parting shot by the superfluous midfielder. Many of them ran down the glass and sit in a collecting bowl normally poised for any images of Fat Headed Sam Allardyce. We’re gonna need a bigger bowl.

Thankfully, it was impossible for anyone to have a winge at our expense as we were nigh on sublime but something rather odd did occur after the half time interval. For some reason, Nevin and Deadwood had switched clothes by the end of the game. The charcoal cardigan and tie switched from one pundit to the other as did a shirt, going in the opposite direction. Was this a reflex left over from their playing days; end of the game, well played, let’s swap shirts? Or was it something far, far juicier?

Are the two naturists, not permitted to practice as so live on channel five but uncomfortable to watch the game unless in the buff? Or perhaps was there some spontaneous tryst, whose name may never be mentioned. A look in each other’s eyes; an undeniable moment; one hand moves to the other’s thigh and the words, ‘I’ve always loved you.’ Then all that the novice, on looking Murray can do is to watch as the clothes go flying to the walls like a frog in a blender.

As for Lawro, I’d expect nothing less of that whining skin bag and his negative, percentage predictions. The problem is he’s very often correct. In this instance, though, quite insanely wrong. We’re looking great, they’re in major poo and we’ve got a score to settle. The game is, of course a derby, and as they say, the form book goes out the window. However, The Bagel has just returned from a visit to WHL, where he insured that all windows were closed, bolted and the cracks sealed with masking tape. No windows, no disappearing form books. The Hammers will suffer at our lasagna covered hands.

Loving the stats on Defoe as well. Surely it’s one for the 100, one for the 50 and another for the hat trick?

Enjoy your Friday nights.

Harvey Bagelbangers on me.

The Bagel.

This entry was posted on Friday, October 20th, 2006 at 5:05 pm and is filed under Bagel News. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.