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Roberto Martinez is a manager that many Spurs fans were cooing over, over upon a time, roundabout the same time Mavis Doyes and Brenda Rodgers were also being cooed over.

One has fled the country under the witness protection program, one has been sectioned under the Mental Health Act, and Martinez is still wandering around like a Spanish C3PO, using phrases such as “tremendous honour” with the same frequency normal people say things such as “have you seen my phone?”

I’ve never rated Martinez.

At Wigan, he always struck me as  guy that would rush into a burning building and save the sleeping baby. But it was he that set fire the the building in the first place.

His time at Everton has undoubtedly been marred by the horrific waste of resources that is the Europa League, but it was Martinez’ decision to pursue it with such gusto.

Martinez is in love win Azza Blud, but then he’s someone who probably say to a dog that just bit him, “This isn’t an outcome that is ideal for me, you naughty boy.”

There will be others interested. When you see Aaron enjoying his football in the way that he is, he is quite a unique footballer.

The pace that he has, the understanding, the work rate, how effective he is.

He is always a threat, he has fit in the dressing room really well and fit in the culture too. You can see the fans appreciate Lennon as an Evertonian.

The only thing that matters is we are very privileged to have him here on loan and we want him to play every single game that is left with real enjoyment.”

The problem Lennon is that he epitomised the ‘jam tomorrow’ regime at Spurs. He rarely delivered any jam. Certainly not enough to entice even a modest number of suicidal ants with type 2 diabetes; during a national jam shortage.

As became branded as ‘wing-heeled’ and a man that could ‘terrorise defenses’ but in reality, this was one of those whopping great lies you frequently find in football. Like ‘Huddlestone has a great shot on him’ or ‘Raheem Sterling is worth every penny’.

There is a greater likelihood of a donkey falling out of the sky and killing you than there is of Lennon or Huddlestone reigniting their failed careers. Slackers and fairies with too much money and too little of the brains god gave them still rattling around in their empty heads.

Another issue, is that Pochettino doesn’t do wingers. He does wing-backs, at role at which Rose is increasingly useful at, but the traditional ‘on me head son’ in the six yard box is by and large a rarity.

As Tottenham have stumbled about, more markedly so since falling out of the Europa competition, plaintive cries for the likes of Lennon, Defoe and even Bale have been heard amongst our ranks. This is hardly to be unexpected. But there is a time in your life when you need to focus upon the fact that an ex is an ex for a reason.

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