Published: 12 April, 2013

ARSENAL
TO think, Margaret Thatcher was only 35 and at the start of her parliamentary career when Spurs last won the league.

Sorry. Readers will be unaware of a law hastily passed on Monday demanding every column in every newspaper in every town mentions Margaret Thatcher this week. People must hear of nothing else.

There’s actually a special hotline to snitch on any newspaper columnist not offering something along the lines of: “I was in the same room as Thatcher once”, “I met Thatcher and she said she liked my dress”, “I met Thatcher and she said she didn’t like my dress”, “she was scary when you met her”, “she wasn’t as scary as you thought”, “my friend’s Dad went to the same school as Denis Thatcher”, “I went through Grantham on the train to Leeds”, “I used to live in a thatched cottage”… On and on, endless borehole anecdotes about brief meetings of Thatcher and tired remembrances of where they were when Thatcher had stepped down as PM. “They didn’t have the internet then.” Really? Tell us more, you fascinating, fascinating people.

To meet the new rules, I’m predicting the column next to this will have a switcheroo gag about paying tribute to a leader who came in and changed everything, won a few competitions, but didn’t really grasp when it was time to step down and persevered with outdated ideas until their own supporters turned on them. “But enough about Arsene Wenger”. ETC ETC…

Sadly, I didn’t bump into Thatcher in a lift, she never opened our school fair. I have nothing to offer apart from: Margaret Thatcher was only 35 and at the start of her career when Spurs last won the league…
RICHARD OSLEY

TOTTENHAM HOTSPUR
IT’S depressing  finally to have to concede that, even though you beat your near neighbours in the most recent derby and there’s still a month to go, you’re probably going to finish the season behind them.

But that’s the reality Man City have had to face this week even though they beat Moan United on Monday night. Boom! boom!

What? You thought I was ready to throw in the scarf?

Dish up the lasagne?

Do a Mancini (are you really sure there’s always next season Roberto?).

Nope, sorry to disappoint, but here in north London it ain’t over till the fat lady sings and this “lady” isn’t for singing just yet. Unless they try to impose a minute’s silence for Maggie Thatcher next time we play that is. Ding Dong.

Of course, if there was a league table for singing silly songs, I’m sure Arsenal would be top of the tree.

“Tottenham Hotspur, we’re coming for you,” they apparently whined on Saturday. Now, while I imagine crooner Tom Jones is ready to sign up whichever Steps wannabe came up with that highly original ditty, it might be worth noting that Arsenal were singing it at West Brom.

 Like we were listening. Like we even bothered watching your game on the telly. Like we even looked over in the pub when you conga-ed your way around the bar tipping pints of Babycham over each other’s heads.

Well done, you were fourth for 24 hours. It’ll take more than you beating the Baggies to have us quaking in our boots. Only something like losing Gareth Bale would make us do that. Oh dear. How do you like your lasagne again Richard?
CATHERINE ETOE