With hefty irony,  when we don't play well and lose it's AVB's fault. When we play well but still lose or draw, it's AVB's fault. When we win, even if we win a couple on the trot, there is still something in amongst the result to pin blame on AVB. The manner in which we've performed, not becoming to a particular expectation or trait of tradition.

Another day, another Spurs win totalling seven with two draws and one defeat in our last ten (all comps). It's been a solid December. A strong festive period. Plenty to shout about and the usual assortment of reminders that fixes are still required as we look to bid farewell to 2012 and welcome what will hopefully be a fulfilling 2013 with big goofy smiles on our faces.

Sunderland away. Early kick-off. They beat City last time out. Martin O'Neil was under pressure (supposedly) not that long ago, how quickly things change. Or perhaps they just paper over the cracks. They've been abject for most of the season. But with three wins from their last four games, they have reclaimed form. Complacency their enemy. They beat City. Can't be harder to brush Spurs aside.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way...Oh what fun it is to see Bale score a hat-trick in a superb second half dismantlement on Boxing day against the Villa away..."

I need to work on that ditty. The only thing Spurs need to work on is the January transfer window to sign that special type of player that can find space to aid with unlocking deep defending sides. This game was a wonderful illustration of so many different things.

Been struggling to write this match report for the 0-0 against Stoke City. Mainly because I don't want to re-live it and force you into reading a deconstruction of the misery we witnessed. That and the fact that my time is better spent washing my eyes out with bleach. The world was meant to end on Friday. There was a point in the game that I actually hoped to see the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse ride into White Hart Lane with Famine tapping his watch and apologising for the shoddy time-keeping. No such luck.

The end of days. Was meant to be yesterday. But perhaps the apocalypse doesn't actually kick off until 3pm on Saturday afternoon when Stoke visit White Hart Lane. Then again their football is hardly comparable to the intricate Maya civilisation. It's medieval at best.

Lyon in the next round of the Europa League with a possibility of facing Internazionale (if they get past Cluj) in the round after. It's just got real. No easy teams left in the competition which means our level of competitiveness has no room for comfort or casual strolling. Intensity is a key repeated word Andre Villas-Boas loves to cite in his pre and post match musings and we'll need plenty of it if we're going to get past the French.

If Tottenham was pornography it would be the type that you find on digital subscriber channels. Hardcore edited to soft to escape slapped wrists (and personal injury) from broadcast regulators. Nothing explicit and no money-shot. You know it's happening you just can't see all the graphic details but there's enough there to leave you satisfied. It's sort of sexy in the same way a Victorian man would tremble at the sight of a naked ankle.

I'm now on cruise control for the festive period. Annual leave so no working distractions. A rum per night is Santa's delight. But whilst my feet are up I'm hoping Tottenham's don't touch the ground either. Just expect a little more dynamism from our boys in Lilywhite compared to my brisk walk from living room to kitchen fridge and back.

Much like Christmas itself, the fixture list can leave some feeling bloated, head in hands nursing a migraine. Except, if you feast on points (and the odd pint in celebration) it will be your points tally bloated and the only migraine will be that of your opponents.

We had Chris Miller on The Fighting Cock podcast this past week (that's @WindyCOYS of http://windycoys.com/ fame). If you're not familiar with his work, he loves the young kids. The youth kids to be precise. He provides the pod with weekly updates but this time we had him live in 'the studio'. His rather beautiful face houses some extensive knowledge on THFC's academy and development squad and players out on loan. He's also tasty when it comes to biting tactical reviews (specialising in goals conceded) that might not make the best post-match reading but is still refreshing in a world that is obsessed with sensationalism and ITK.

If only games finished at the 80th minute mark. If only games lasted long enough for Spurs to win them. In the blink of an eye we saw three points evaporate to nothing. Blink of an eye, lapse of a defence...same difference. Both take a split second to occur. This is Tottenham after all. Never without drama, never without heart break. Am I disappointed? Of course I am. But that's football. It slaps you in the face the moment you dare to look away.  In a less philosophical conclusion you'd  analyse tactics and find yourself agreeing that some games turn on moments that could so easily have turned out to be inconsequential when played back differently in your mind.

When The Fighting Cock launched an appeal to raise funds for a new microphone to record the podcast, we wanted to give you something in return. For your donation, Chicago Dan agreed to get The Fighting Cock emblem tattooed on his behind.

Atmosphere at the Lane was a little diluted even with 1882 in amongst the Park Lane blocks. 1882 started out as something for the youth games, to bring supporters together to sing for the shirt and feel pride and love for Tottenham regardless of the team we were watching and the importance of the game. It works best when we're grouped together. Anyone that went to Charlton away in the FA Youth Cup last season or the Barca nextgen game or Maribor will tell you its an incredible experience. Says a lot about the modern game when it takes this for football fans to feel like they've completely changed their match day experience.

Another Thursday night game under the floodlights, another 1882 occasion. Considering the minus temperatures, I'm probably not the only one welcoming what should be another glorious non-stop singing session at White Hart Lane which should warm the cockles of our hearts.

Charlton in the FA Youth Cup last season. Barcelona at the Lane in the NextGen. Maribor at the Lane in the Europa League and this evening against Panathinaikos. Coventry in the FA Cup will be the next one. It's all about momentum, it's all about giving the team relentless vocal support. This all started out as a means to enjoy football again without any constraints and the pressures of expectation. Which is why it started out as a youth game meet-up of like-minded individuals that just want to sing for the shirt. There's been a fair few articles written by myself (on this blog) and by others over at The Fighting Cock.

One of my uncles earliest memories was standing in a playground and seeing a group of young (but older than him) Spurs fans, singing their hearts out, as they walked past...bursting with pride. In that single defining moment, he decided to support Tottenham.

His father (my granddad) lived in Camden Town and regularly visited the Lane. When he spoke the 60s side, it was always with superlatives and long pauses followed by more superlatives. At a young age, I knew who Blanchflower, Mackay and White were without really knowing all the details. There was nothing linear about the stories told, it was all very fantastical. Raw stories about the atmosphere at the Lane, a particular goal scored. Men dressed as angels. The Shelf bursting with song and energy. Tales wrapped in crisp magic you could taste if you shut your eyes hard enough and imagined the scenes being described.

"Away from football, as a person, he is a top guy, a really nice guy. After every session he will come into the changing room or treatment room and go to every player to see if you are OK. 'How do you feel? How's your legs?' General chit chat. He will do it with every player, every day," he explains. "Even when I was away with England he will send me a message sometimes – 'Good luck. How's the game?' Stuff like that. When you have got a manager like that you want to play for him and do well."

Three games to save his job they said. So he won the three games. Does it really matter what they say any more? This continued congestion of narratives dominates headlines rather than thoughtful analysis and consumption of just the facts. Lose a couple, you're in crisis. Win a couple, you're back in the chase. Take a step back and attempt to look at the bigger picture and you'll see what you're meant to see rather than the drama others wish to portray.

Morning. Tittle-tattle from yesterday? Beckham, Lloris, Modric and Bale, Vertonghen, Benny and Parker.