As an evil shareholder in a number of exploitative businesses, and the inspiration for the humorous character Mr. Burns from Yankee animation The Simpsons, I object wholeheartedly to the whole notion of ‘holidays’. I remember the glory days of the Empire, when school holidays were required merely because children were needed to toil in the fields picking fruit and vegetables.

This is no longer the case, and the miscreants now spend the summer staring at their confounded hand-held telephonic devices, eating laundry detergent, and forgetting every word their masters taught them in the previous term. I took a Grand Tour myself in my youth, to France, Italy and Germany to view the greatest works of art and architecture and learn fencing (if any Spurs fans are reading this – and I know you are – this is the sport of swordfighting, not the trafficking of stolen goods) Holidays were the preserve of the very wealthy, just as it should be.

And then: STEAM. STEAM AND BANK HOLIDAYS. Two modern evils that conspired to open up travelling to the wealthy, not just the very wealthy. The rich could go on holiday for a week, and stay in an hotel, but the working man could only afford a day trip to the seaside. It was a common belief that sea air was good for your health, and as millions of the ungrateful buggers found working in a factory or a cotton mill to be unhealthy, with their irrational, childlike fears of toxic fumes and mutilation, the sea was the place to go.

One of these destinations was Blackpool, a seaside town that nowadays only exists to give Skegness somewhere to look down upon, and to where the faithful headed for the purposes of supporting the chaps in the Forever Arsenal Cup. A sparsely attended match, yet it still had more home supporters than White Hart Lane will for the foreseeable future. One of those home supporters was Mr. Owen Oyston, the majority owner of Blackpool FC, and about as popular there as a rattlesnake in a lucky dip.

One point came to mind as the television cameras located Mr. Oyston in the crowd. Surely if the sea air is so good for you, why does Owen Oyston look like a rotten hard-boiled egg which has been dragged through the wheely bin of a fancy dress shop? I mean, the chap has lived there for most of his life, and have you seen the blighter? It’s like a man was transforming by magic into a prune but got stuck half way through and then fell in some porridge.

Still, at least we inflicted some well-deserved misery on him by knocking them out of the cup. We wish Blackpool’s fans all the very best in their quest to rid themselves of the Oyston family and their business practices. Perhaps the time may come when similar protests are required to remove our owner, Mr. Kroenke, who revealed via Mr. Emery this week that we lack the resources to buy reinforcements, and are restricted only to loan deals. One is of course in favour of living within one’s means, but really. It’s embarrassing. Unless… unless it’s a negotiating tactic with the intent of prising Dennis Saunders from Barcelona on loan, rather than to buy him, which is what the ghastly Catalans want.

We turn then to the January cattle market. First we note that we have managed to offload our all-time highest scoring midfielder and all-round top professional to Juventus for *replaces monocle* not a farthing. Excellent business, in the same week as Tottenham’s in-house comedian Daniel Levy puts a *affixes pince-nez* £225 million buyout clause on the head of *adjusts comedy telescope* MR. CHRISTIAN ERIKSEN.

So the rumour mill is in overdrive. We desperately need a five star centre half, an accomplished left back and a right back understudy to Harry Bell. Which is why we’re being linked with tricksy attacking players Dennis Saunders, winger John Carruthers, attacking midfielder James Rodgers and winger Jeremy Underwood. Arsenal: All fur coat and no knickers.

There are whispers of a promising centre half in Matthew Light, but as we’re effectively laying a cap on the ground and playing a penny whistle these days it seems unlikely. More sensible suggestions are Harry Harwood or Nicholas Barwell to replace Ramsara. If we can get them on loan. Perhaps we should consider applying for Parish Relief?