Dr Oyvind, Australia

Boys,

As much as I wish I could get to the Lane regularly (ever) living in Melbourne is a real ball drag on that one. You might be able to get a tube, a bus or even walk, I’d have a 20 hour flight each way that would set me back the better part of two grand, whatever that is in your money.

So watch as much as I can on tele, which in itself means a $1,200 a year subscription to get Foxtel, the only place I can get games (at least they’re in HD). The only good bit about that is at half time I can flick to Fuel TV and they often have Bikini Beach on which is usually utter crap but occasionally worth a w*nk.

So far this season to watch the mighty Spurs, I’d guess I’ve:

– Been to work quite late 4 times (this morning the most recently for the Stoke choke)
– Got up at 3am about 10 times
– Stayed up until about 3 am another 10 times
– Ventured to the hideous Crown Casino for 6:30am kick offs twice (Chelscum and Liverpoor) to at least try and feel some atmosphere but I can’t do it again because of the sort of support these clubs attract out here. They’re all since 2005 bandwagoning dumbc*nts that also ‘support’ Real Madrid/Barca, AC/Juventus and Bayern. By way of example, at the Chelsea game we had to put up with a c*nt in a fully badged up kit sporting Luiz whatever number he is on the back. And of course this cock constantly shushed us any time anything vaguely important went against us. Anyway, this said to me that this particular f*cker was a gooner until Henry left at which point he switched buses from the swamp to gorky park. What a c*nt. So I can’t watch like that any more lest I end up arrested from CCTV footage catching me glassing pricks in the neck.

The other thing that really gives my tits a tickle supporting Spurs so far away is daylight savings. I know everyone generally loves daylight savings, more time to do shit, whatever, but the truth is, when it kicks in here and switches off there, games go from being a reasonably civilised 11-midnight kick off to a more difficult 1-2am and often later. It really ballses up the weekend because it pretty much guarantees I have to stay up late (whilst getting munted) or get up in the middle of the night, and I’m no shift worker. Sundays are f*cked and I have three kids that don’t give a sh*t about me being tired.

Anyway, this is a shit boring story. Exec summary: It’s f*cking hard supporting from here. Thank f*ck for the internet.

Side note 1: Thankfully in my office of 60 people there are 5 proper Spurs which is very f*cking rare in this bandwagoner town (by way of example, everyone was Chicago Bulls, then LA Lakers and now they’re all New York Knicks owing to some Lim/Lin? bloke. (Whatever, basketball is shit and the NBA doesn’t even obey the f*cking rules they made in the first place.)

Side note 2: I do intend spending a shed load of Frequent Father points next season going to a game. Basically me and a mate are going to sort tickets to the Lane and then book the cheap-arsiest flights we can that get us there as just in time as we dare. Basically we’d leave work Thursday night, straight to the airport with a backpack each, wallet and cash. Fly to London. Arrive Saturday morning. Straight to the Lane. Yell and sing and generally be a c*nt. Hopefully watch a win. Go out until I fall over. Go back to whichever airport Bustedarse Air flies from and come home arriving Tuesday morning, straight back into the office. Americans would call that ticking something off a bucket list. Check with that sweary Chicago prick you have on the show, but I think that’s right. I’d simply call it a pilgrimage.

This is useless I know, but I liked writing it. Delete as it deserves.

Dr Oyvind.