So the Tangerine Dreamers arrive at the Boleyn today and what will they see when they get off the team coach? Avram hurrying out of a massage parlour wearing a kiss me quick hat, a bunch of donkeys heading for the home dressing room, fortune tellers reading East Enders' palms ("I see a very short Premiership life line"), Upson and Green setting up deck chairs in the penalty box, a stadium that looks like a sand castle and is in imminent danger of tumbling down, clapped out cabaret "stars" seeing out the fag ends of their careers under a banner of "For one more season only", and thirty thousand exhausted trippers hoping for a great day out but knowing, in their hearts, that this is no theatre of dreams, but a tawdry pantomime show where we are destined always to be Judy, under the kosh of Punch.
Welcome to the Boleyn. We too have a tower. A tower of shit!