I can’t be arsed with the journey so I’ll watch it on the box with some fellow addicts.

We start in the usual “Spurs Anonymous” way ... “My name is Bobby and I am a Spurs Fan” which is met with a round of applause and thanks for sharing with the group.

The atmosphere is building in my front room, the buzz of Matt, Nancy and Gary (and me) is building to a crescendo. (Sorry am I over doing this?). Her indoors has gone to another room to watch wall to wall soaps so won’t see her for a while. I’ve asked for some cheese and biscuits to be delivered for the second half but I won’t be holding my breath. She may well be upset at some trauma or drama on the soap and feel the need to phone a friend afterwards to discuss it for half an hour or so.

The match atmosphere continues to build ......

Matt:  Great ... Keano isn’t playing.

Nancy:  Oh no ... Keano isn’t playing. 

All:  Andy Gray is a twat.

Gary:  Great ... Crouch is playing.

Me:  Oh no ... Crouch is playing. 

All:  Andy Gray is a twat.

Not much more to say really, other than we all got a bit tipsy on the vino (except Gary who was driving) and also very happy that a) we won and b) we kept a clean sheet. We’ll enjoy the moment while it lasts.

The little added extra bonus was Professor Wenger (after the event as always) blaming the fixture computer for not getting 3 points. Also complaining about Wolves’ weakened team “devaluing the competition”. Like some clubs in the FA and League cups eh Arsene.

“Are you going to football today?” The most frequently asked stupid question in my house.

Listen, I’ll explain once more. I have a season ticket and it gives me a seat at every Spurs home match. Today there is a Spurs home match ... so go on ... have a wild guess!

“Well I thought we could do some Christmas shopping”. Well I invite you to think again my sweet.

Then I go through the final “leaving the house” check ritual. Season book, phone, wallet, railcard, glasses, coat, k...

These days it seems that most match days start with a hangover. This one was no different. Last night was the first “Christmas do” of this year. Anyway, first job is to persuade her indoors to drive me to the station despite having a worse hangover than me. Taking her a cup of tea in bed should do the trick hopefully. I desperately hope she doesn’t read this because I have to say she looked as rough as the proverbial badgers arse. However, the important thing is that she agreed to drive...