Hey Tottenham, who do you think you are?

Can't you see what you're doing to him? He's distraught. Devasted. He's suffering. And it's your fault. You don't even care, do you? What kind of monster are you?

Maybe you haven't heard, but the biggest club in the world wants him on their team. The biggest club in the world. We don't do this for everybody. It's an honor to even be mentioned in the same breath as us. For both of you.

Have you heard how excited he is about this? You can't blame him. It's not his fault. Everyone gets excited when we come calling. We put on quite a charm offensive. He can't help himself. We're very prestigious. He's dreamt of this his whole life. All little boys in Wales grow up dreaming of playing in our classic white shirt. The dragon on their flag? That's us.

His heart is set on it. It's set. You can't unset a heart.

We're a once in a lifetime opportunity. He'll never have this chance again. Ever. If he doesn't go now, we might never want to see him again. How do you think it feels to be 24 and know that your only chance at greatness was stolen from you? Can you carry that burden?





You want him to be happy, don't you? This is it. His last chance. His only chance.





He's one of the best players in the world. He belongs here. We can make him great. We can make him better than great. We can make him one of the best players in the world. You think you can do that for him? You're nobody. You're a nearly team. And also-ran. A never was.





You don't deserve him. You never did. You were just holding him until we were ready for him. Nobody knows who you are. You're just the team crushing his dreams. The team depriving the world of the chance to see him where he belongs. Here. With us.





You think you can say no to us? You think you can keep him? He'll just play for you? Forever?





Don't be ridiculous.





You can put up a fight all you want. You know you're going to sell him in the end. You're a selling club. That's what you do. That's who you are. You sold Carrick. You sold Berbatov. You sold Modric. You'll sell him. You sell everyone.

You always do.

And we always get our man. We got Kaka. We got Ronaldo. We didn't want really want Neymar.

We tried to make this easy on you. We offered you players already anointed by our sacred white shirt. It's not our fault they wouldn't lower themselves to play for some provincial English club. Now you see how he feels.

Just take the money. You can't turn down £80m on the table. It's £80m. Eighty million. With that much money, even you can find someone willing to come play for your quaint little club. £80,000,000.

You know we're good for it.