We won't be mastered...Spurs 2 Aston Villa 5

It's Saturday 4th April 1992 and we're off to London on a away trip. Tottenham here we come.

We're not exactly expecting anything special. Villa are very much a team in transition under the command of Big Ron Atkinson and it's proving a difficult task.

An away win seems quite unlikely, especially as we've not even managed an away league goal since New Year's Day and though we did manage to put Spurs out of the cup in January, this is one of those away jaunts where we're determined to have a good time despite the inconvenience of having to watch the actual match.

North London pubs prove to be very welcoming, so much so that our coach driver eventually resorts to driving off without the majority of us in an attempt to prise us out of the pub. Thanks to the density of London traffic, it doesn't prove that difficult to catch up to him when we finally come out blinking into the daylight. Catching the kick-off maybe more of a challenge.

It seems we're too close to Barnet for comfort and they are at home too, the coach is soon being pelted with coins, which some of the lads gratefully pocket as they ping in through the skylight.

We finally arrive at White Hart Lane with seconds to spare, having livened up the crawl to the stadium by raucously singing local radio jingles. "Stechford Tiles" and "Regency Windows" prove to be incredibly popular. I think we're gonna make the kick-off but I've reckoned without Spurs overzealous stewarding. At the other grounds we just get frisked, this feels more like a full blown medical.

I'm not sure whether the guy searching me is looking for weapons or trying to ascertain whether I'm circumcised. This is almost certainly the wrong ground to make that comment out loud but luckily he lets me in anyway.

We emerge into the busy terrace behind the goal to discover that Spinksy has already had to make three saves. This could be a long afternoon.

Suddenly Gordon Durie hits a powerful shot which is definitely going to beat Spink. It looks as if Shaun Teale can tidy up but Gary Lineker sticks a toe on it, the jug-earred goal hanger. One-nil Spurs.

Jug-earred goal hanger

If Spurs taking the lead so early has dampened the enthusiasm of much of the Villa support, it hasn't stopped our little mob from continuing with the radio jingles from the journey in and many seem perplexed that we keep shouting about “free grout and spreader”. Some attempt to join in with the spirit of the madness, others think the best course of action is to drown it out with proper Villa songs. The point is, the away section is making a lot of noise.

“The black Andy Gray” is playing for Spurs, he was a bit a fan favourite in the Taylor era but quickly loses our sympathy when he puts a tantalising cross in the box. Our sympathies are with one Shaun Teale who somehow contrives to beat Spink and stick the ball in his own net. We're two down now, it's still really early in the first half, but we're still singing.

The team are not being overawed though and Kevin Richardson is orchestrating the midfield beautifully so it's quite fitting that he should get us back into the game. A Dwight Yorke cross leaves him with a just a tap in, and he slots home with the sort of composure tap-in expert Lineker would have been proud of.

It's clear our Kev is having one of his better days a few minutes later when his free kick finds Ian Olney and the Spurs defence unexpectedly turn into statues leaving him with a simple finish and we're level.

We're now having a proper party in the away end and even a gilt-edged chance for Lineker to put Spurs ahead can't dampen our mood. He misses it, but then it wasn't a tap-in, so no surprise there.

God is playing My Lord, Number Five

Spurs have a proper go in the second half but we are defending in numbers and defending well. Them, not so much. On the hour, their entire defence decide to surround Big Cyrille but still can't stop him passing to Dwight Yorke, whose blistering shot cannons off the post and rebounds in.

We're winning away and Dwight's beaming smile is warmer than Trinidad and Tobago.

It gets funnier. Paul McGrath, not having one of his better days,manages to haul down Paul Walsh and Gary Lineker takes the resultant penalty. He goes to Spink's right. So does Nigel.

Saved!

We're not done either. Tony Daley comes on for Matthias Breitkreutz and beats two Spurs defenders with a trademark run before slotting past Ian Walker, so we're already in dreamland by the time Big Cyrille sees off the challenge of Jason Cundy to score Villa's fifth.

It's a truly glorious afternoon. Big Ron's Villa has truly made a statement.

Let the good times roll...

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