Colour Coded

Spurs may not be winning many football matches these days, but they remain a fascinating and colourful bunch, managed by Martin Jol, a man who contrives to look like a butcher and yet sound like he’s auditioning for the part of the godfather.

Their last line of defence is the England goalkeeper, Paul Robinson, so broad in the beam that from some angles he can cause several spectators to experience a partial eclipse of the pitch. Immediately in front of him is the lanky Gardiner, Meadowlark Lemon to Dawson’s Fred Flintstone, and completing the back four, the Oriental Lee and Pascal Chimbonda, who simultaneously evokes memories of Jamaican timeshare touts and Bob Marley.

Then there’s the midfield. Out wide the little Lennon, all speed, close control and sculptured eyebrows, and the stocky Frenchman Malbranque, with ankles so heavily padded he seems to be wearing his grandfather’s old gardening boots. And in the thick of it all, Zokora, half hatchet man, half ham actor, and Tom Huddlestone, a lofty version of Frank Lampard with socks over his knees in the style of Thierry Henry and a face reminiscent of Peter Shilton, playing the part of a gifted midfielder for all who like their football served up at a snail’s pace.

Up front they have Dimitar Berbatov, the assassin with brooding eyes and the look of a Bulgarian agent, and little Defoe, who seems to share striking duties and a chip on the shoulder with the wild eyed Irishman Robbie Keane. And if all that isn’t enough, they even boast an Egyptian or two on the bench.