Imagine being stuck in a small, windowless, grey room for a trillion years. The room’s only feature is a single lightbulb that hangs from the ceiling and never goes out. You can eat or drink whenever you want, but the only food on the menu is mashed potato and the only beverage is tap water. An Ed Sheeran album plays on an infinite loop.
No matter what you do or how much you age, you will not die in this room. There is no way in or out. There is, in short, no possible escape. You will endure 1,000,000,000,000 years of tasteless food, toxic culture and spirit-crushing boredom.
If you can conceive of something approaching the level of existential agony that must follow such an ordeal, then you can begin to sympathise with fans of Norwich City, who are currently enduring something altogether worse under current manager and sworn enemy of fun, entertainment and happiness, Chris Hughton.
Now, I know Hughton is a Spurs legend and he will always have a place at White Hart Lane. He is, by all accounts, a nice guy and has worked hard to get where he is. I have nothing against the man personally. However, faced with the choice between a season ticket watching his team and a trillion years in the Mashed Potato/Ed Sheeran Auditorium, I would without hesitation choose an eternity in the little grey box every single time.
I tried to muster up the enthusiasm to write about Chris Hughton’s Norwich. Really, I did. But there are some things that cannot be done – the human instinct of self-preservation kicks in and stops you doing something fatally stupid. In the same way that I would not boil a kettle and then immediately pour its contents over my head, I am not going to wilfully watch and analyse that football team.
In lieu of the regular tactical preview, I present to you the below video. I found it exponentially more interesting than Chris Hughton’s Norwich City.