Gudjohnsen's bizarre first introduction to the Tottenham squad

"Great to 'av you on board Eidur" said a beaming Harry as the two men walked casually down the corridor toward the dressing room.

"Honestly Harry there was never any doubt in my mind once I heard Spurs were in for me. West Ham offered a great package but I really didn't like the way Mr Sullivan kept taking pictures of my wife" said Eidur, his face racked with a mixture of confusion and concern. "Anyway" he started, shaking off the unpleasant memories, "I'm just excited to be back in England again and looking forward to meeting the rest of the squad"

"Oh they're a great bunch of characters 'ere, real nice group of lads" Harry rambled affectionately "You've got nothing to be worried about".

After a brief moment's silence they reached the door of the dressing room. "The boys have just come in from some drills, follow me". Harry pushed the door gently open and beckoned Eidur into the room after him with a sweep of his hand. The Icelandic forward shuffled in and was confronted with a buzz of happy chitter chatter and laughter; the various Tottenham players spread out on benches, jostling each other and taking off their muddy boots.

"Right first fings first" Harry proclaimed "You'd better meet Ledley our captain". Harry led Eidur through the bustling crowd of jovial Tottenham players and beckoned towards the corner of the room. "Ledley...Ledley I've got someone 'ere to see you". Eidur glanced around, unsure of where to look, when his eyes were caught by movement from behind a white medical curtain. With the scrunching of synthetic material and a metallic scrape the curtain was drawn back by a haggard old woman draped in Eastern European shawls and there, on a treatment table, lay Ledley King. Encouraged by Harry, Eidur tentatively walked forward and extended a nervous palm.

"Welcome to Tottenham" Ledley began, shaking Eidur's hand enthusiastically "Harry had mentioned we might be getting another striker on boar...", his voice trailed off.

Eidur stood transfixed as the elderly woman proceeded to smear the unpleasant looking contents of a bucket over Ledley's knee; chunks of ochre coloured offal splattering onto the dressing room floor. Turning pale and clearly feeling nauseous Gudjohnsen looked up at Ledley, managing to splutter, "Is that...is that...placen..."

"Part of my world cup preparations?" beamed the giant centreback "Yep sure is, Olga here is going to make sure I'm on that plane to South Africa".

Gudjohnsen suddenly looked perplexed: "But surely with Terry and Ferdinand fit, and players like Upson waiting in the wing..?"

"Right well thats that fella's" Harry quickly interjected, dragging Gudjohnsen away forcibly by the waist. The old woman cowered beside Ledley hissing protectively and making threatening gestures with her withered, leathery old hands. "Don't mention the world cup" Harry mumbled under his breath to Eidur "Only thing that keeps the poor lad going".

"Well" Harry proclaimed, instantly cheery again "Suppose you'd better meet the rest of em". They walked a couple of paces before Harry stopped and pointed out some of the other players.

"Those there are your striking partners". Near some benches Peter Crouch stood with his eyes closed and his arms outspread; bare feet submerged in a pile of MiracleGrow, face pointed up towards the fluorescent strip lighting. Defoe scrambled round his feet, attentively sprinkling drops from a pink watering can onto the compost.

"And there's the team captain Robbie". Eidur gazed over as Keane emerged dripping from the showers, nothing hiding his flabby palid body, and proceeded to wind up his towel into a tight looking spiral. With no warning he began to charge stark naked around the dressing room, whipping his team mates mercilessly whilst emitting a series of incoherent shrieks and giggles. "No Robbie please, not again, we don't like it" pleaded Jenas effeminately as his delicate thighs were lashed.

"Erm shouldn't we do something?" Eidur said, looking concerned.

Harry bellowed with laughter "That's just Keano doin' is thing. Great for team morale, the others just love it!"

The diminutive Irishman's rampage continued, flaying Alan Hutton's backside as he desperately struggled to put on his StarWars Y-fronts. Eventually Corluka lumbered over, pinned the writhing, wild eyed Irishman to the ground and tore his towel in half.

Harry chuckled away to himself "Those lot ey?". He looked at Eidur and rolled his eyes. "Actually, I might av a little treat for you fella come over ere". Eidur followed reluctantly, his expression fraught with anxiety and doubt. Harry pushed aside a couple of players and shouted over at a couple of younger looking characters sitting on a bench together. Bale and Modric who were giggling away contentedly, playing 'Cat's Cradle' with a bootlace, looked up, and Harry beckoned Luka with an authoritative finger.

"Ere we are Luka" said Harry, ruffling the little midfielder's hair "I've got another Croatian for you to play with". Both players looked at each other, utterly bewildered. There was a small silence. "Go on get in there, don't be shy now" laughed Harry as he pushed the two players together uncomfortably.

"But Harry, Im not Croatian, Im Icelandi..."

"Course you're Croatian Eidur" said Harry pushing the players together with even greater force "Why the hell do ya think I signed ya?". The two footballers were now gasping for breath, Modric began to admit an impossibly high pitched scream before biting Harry and scuttling away to hide behind one of the urinals.

Harry grasped his hand and emitted a stream of obscenities before turning to Eidur and apologizing. "Right well that's about that, just one final thing...don't go talking to that Russian lad, he's bad news. Bad attitude ya see? Lazy" Harry tapped his head.

"Why is he in that...cage?" Eidur questioned, looking more than a little perturbed by his experience thus far.

The gaunt looking Russian sat hunched in a restrictive metal enclosure, the tatters of a Spartak Moscow kit hanging from his protruding bones. With what seemed like an exhaustive effort the man raised his doleful eyes up to Eidur and, in heavily accented English, spluttered "Please...help...me".

Eidur stood mouth agape, horrified. Harry noting his reaction stood there nodding sympathetically. "Don't worry son, I don't av a bloody clue what he's sayin either".

A long silence ensued as Eidur slowly shook himself to his senses. Harry glanced agitated at his watch "Sorry lad but I gotta dash, any questions before I go?"

Gudjohnsen looked down, trying to take it all in, "Yes actually...does he always do that?". The striker pointed at his leg to reveal a partially clothed Michael Dawson, thrusting wildly, tongue lolling out at the corner of his mouth with a vacant smile stretched across his face.

"Ahh I think he likes you" Harry chortled as he headed towards the door "Told you you'd fit right in..."

The door banged shut.