To Whom It May Concern at Tottenham Hotspur Football Club,
I write this under duress — not from external forces, but from the internal torment of watching another pre-season without proper preparation and signing of players we desperately need. You’ve had over a month. The window opened with fanfare, the chequebook has been politely dusted off, and yet here we are, trotting out children, converted full-backs and someone who, I swear, works in the gift shop.
Now, listen: I am not asking for Mbappé (although wouldn’t that be hilarious?). I am simply asking for pace, intelligence, and a working right foot. The bare minimum, really — like bringing cutlery to a dinner party.
Should this modest request continue to go unfulfilled, I shall be forced to take action: namely, cancelling my Spurs+ subscription, unfollowing the club’s TikTok account, and releasing my unpublished novel “Winks: A Cautionary Tale” to the tabloids.
You have 72 hours. I suggest you use them wisely.
Yours in barely contained fury,
Frank