Over at TottenhamNews.org, via Improbable Research, which cites some choice samples.
Curiously, while the registrant’s address is said to be just round the corner from Ankara’s gloriously Martian Altınpark, the phone number is Dutch, and the only Turkish news that I’ve ever heard come out of Tottenham, north London, is of this planet’s most splendid kebabs, fruit and veg, and cab drivers (but not from Ankara).
The most famous Turk ever lives in Islington, but I fancy myself even less as a football blogger.
And, in case you’re wondering, there are a couple of rides in Altınpark, and the dotless ı is pronounced rather like the o in Alton (Towers), and wouldn’t it be nice to find out more about this pleasing coincidence in time for Christmas, of which I hope you have a happy one!
(I’m celebrating with at least two bands of joyous hippies, so instead of fretting about inlaws I’m up to my armpits in cake mixes and bread dough.)
I have probably already offered lame excuses as to why I can’t speak Turkish.
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Come on Özil!
Wenger is God and Özil is his prophet – that's how I like to think of it.
I'll match your bread dough and raise you lentil nut roast (with prunes soaked in rum through the middle). In the next round, I'll see you as I have a daughter here in a black roll-necked jumper.
I'm also using this as a test of a VPN, so I will be looking to see if this arrives OK after being routed via a country where boiling of people is inserted ad hoc onto the statute book.
Happy Christmas Trev and I look forward to more of the same erudition and fuckwittery in 2014.
I am so glad you didn't tempt to reply to that when I was roaring drunk at 5 this morning. Thanks for visiting & have a good one!