Fulham were ‘hanging out the back of it’

Will the easily offended please look away. Fulham ‘smashed it’ on Sunday and after 90 minutes they were ‘hanging out the back of it’. No doubt, former Sky Sports commentator and ‘werewolf-in-progress’ Richard Keys would approve.

This was a game where a toothless Spurs ran out of luck and lacked the strength in midfield or cutting edge up front to make inroads against an improved Fulham outfit. The long-term absence of Tom Huddlestone and temporary unavailability of Gareth Bale left Spurs’ midfield with an array of midgets who would be better served protecting the confectionery-related interests of William Wonka. The continuing omission of Niko Kranjcar is curious. Is Harry Redknapp (deep intake of breath) displaying ‘tall-ism’?

This cup tie was over as a spectacle within 15 minutes following kamikaze defending by the usually reliable Michael Dawson. Sadly, our likeable captain had an absolute shocker. His sloppy pass played in the paper-ankled Clint Dempsey for the first penalty. Hutton’s challenge merited a spot-kick, but Dempsey’s theatrical tumble made sure.

The hapless Dawson then clearly pulled back Dembele’s shirt in the area (having fortuitously got away with a carbon copy offence against Newcastle last week) and the portly Phil Dowd was so excited the red card literally flew out of his pocket, presumably because his chubby fingers were unable to negotiate such a small space. We wish the blubbery official luck in his continuing battle with obesity. By the ‘letter of the law’, Dowd was correct, but it’s a shame referees regularly fail to spot this infringement when Nemanja Vidic is the perpetrator. He could probably murder and receive a booking.

I had to blink a few times to make sure Gerry Francis wasn’t in charge. Tottenham’s tiny midfield was swamped and a nervy Gomes overwhelmed. The Brazilian’s hesitancy led to an unnecessary corner which the Norwegian behemoth Hangeland converted before Dembele finished superbly as Spurs players backed off in injury time.

There was no Gareth Bale and therefore no rip-roaring comeback. And so one dream is over, but amid the disappointment it’s important to remember a few others remain.

Ladies night at Faces

Faces is rammed. It’s Friday, ‘Ladies Night’. And the Spurs boys are in full-on party mode. They are in the Champions League proper and have every right to celebrate. If they can beat Young Boys, they can beat anyone. Now for the young girls.

Inter? Managed by the ‘Spanish Waiter’...we know how he hates a trip to the Lane. Bremen? Lost star player Ozil...a shadow of their former selves. Twente? Play in a pony league and no longer managed by the talismanic 'Stevie Mac'. And it’s only Wigan on Saturday...Spurs knocked 12 past them last season...the boys can afford to party hard in fake tan heaven.

Everyone is drinking Moet, bar teetotallers Jermain Defoe and Gareth Bale who are incongruously downing Fruit Shoots. Peter Crouch is absent having been suspended indefinitely from such contretemps by dear Abi. Younes Kaboul drinks a Jagermeister out of a girl’s belly button. That’s the best shot he’s had since Villa at home in 2007.

The champers is flowing. And yet there is a familiar but not Tottenham face at the famed Essex nightspot. “I recognise you from somewhere,” drawls Tom Huddlestone at an odd, moon-faced individual trying to get the barmaid’s attention with a whistle.

Phil Dowd reaches for his wallet and a Weight Watchers DVD-ROM falls on to the bar; in his embarrassment, the portly ref tries to pay for the round with a yellow card.

A cluster of orange girls move away. He doesn’t play for Blackpool. He’s a fat bloke with strange, non-platinum coloured credit cards. An incandescent Dowd whistles furiously...but nobody listens.

Back in his Surrey mansion, Crouchie wears extra large marigolds while scrubbing the toilet bowl. At Sandbanks, Harry is impressing Sandra with his new Soda Stream. Nothing can go wrong on Saturday, right?