What an odd place this is to be sure.

Like John Gregory, Glenn Hoddle is another manager who appears to possess more than a hint of other-worldliness - there's something very creepy about him, especially when interviewed, and that evangelical zeal, (or madness) can be seen in his eyes. 

It's not only the manager though that seems a little strange, but also the whole ground - it's reasonably well refurbished but clincial and lacking something spiritual - Hoddle may have connections to the "other side" (and I don't mean Arsenal), but there doesn't seem a great deal of that commodity at White Hart Lane. This from a side who qualified for a cup final a week ago. 

Arriving some 30 minutes before the start, it seemed as if pre-match predictions of a near-sell out were hopelessly wide of the mark. There appeared no great bustle outside and as kickoff approached large expanses of unoccupied blue seats were still evident. A rough estimate of the number seats still free when the match kicked off would be about 5,000.

Perhaps the tardiness of the locals could be explained by the unutterably awful pre-match buildup, which consisted of a video clips package of great Spurs moments being relayed via the large screen at one end, to the accompaniment of the most tuneless drone imaginable, masquerading as a soundtrack.

Someone in the corridors of power here has apparently seen fit to employ the illegitimate (and tone deaf) sons of Chas 'n' Dave, and lock them in a recording studio with a cabaret drummer. The results are appalling, making our own shouter Harry Palmer sound like Marvin Gaye in comparison.

After 15 minutes of this, people in the crowd were seen to visibly wilt in the face of this sonic onslaught - every possible permutation of home player named in all-to familiar football ditty form - "one Sergei Rebrov, one Gus Poyet", "on the first day of Xmas Glenn Hoddle gave to me..." etc etc. was blasted out in one remorseless tide. If that toon fan from AC/DC was here, he'll have found out what noise pollution really was....

While the mid-game Premiership score flashes seemed to be well received by the crowd, the rest is just further proof what a tacky and counter-productive spectacle can be conjured up by well-meaning idiots with technology at their disposal. 

The thing about atmosphere is that it's natural - you can't get it out of a tin or off a CD. All Spurs have succeeded in doing is mask any attempts at crowd participation before the game - was Teddy Sheringham applauded by the home fans as he warmed up? we'll never know because some cockney slackjaw was blasting his tuneless guff from the PA - the same trick that they used to pull at Wembley.

So to the comparative safety of the game, and the fairly early goal that kept the toon fans singing and woke up the home support. From the lofty vantage point of the upper toon corner it seemed as if Poyet had again been pinpointed as the threat to us, and Hughes had been detailed to shadow his movements and penalty area rushes. 

Meanwhile Robbie Elliott continued at left back, with three central defenders grouped infield and Nolberto Solano somewhere on the right flank in a position similar to his former international wing back role.

The conclusion arrived at after an opening 45 minutes in which we went behind and created nowt was that we'd dropped a clanger in changing things round to combat the perceived threat from Spurs. For once though, the reality was slightly different.

Individually, there were good committed performances, principally from Distin and Solano, but collectively we just couldn't get things started at all. A litany of misplaced simple passes and fruitless running characterised the opening half, with Shearer seemingly unable or unwilling to go anywhere near the ball. 

However, we were only one behind and a Les-less Spurs side hadn't done much after scoring, seeming to be smugly content to be one up against a misfiring United outfit.

The introduction of Laurent Robert after the break showed that Bobby seemed to share our muted optimism that this was salvageable. Elliott was withdrawn, but the back line stayed much the same, with Jamie McClen and Clarence Acuna the midfield mainstays. 

Whether it was an illusion created by our playing towards the away fans or not, we certainly seemed to start the second period in better heart, and Bellamy came to the fore within a few minutes with a couple of typical solo runs. 

Meanwhile it was evident that Shearer was becoming more mobile and starting to pop up down the channel on the right, pulling King out of the defence in the process and allowing Robert some room to work. In the first half we bypassed midfield and wasted a succession of passes, but in this revised lineup our fluidity meant that McClen and Acuna started to appear in dangerous positions alongside the nominal front three.

Acuna it was who levelled matters with a header from a Robert free kick after Bellamy was pulled back, and after that there was only going to be one winner as Spurs were left reeling on the ropes like a dazed boxer.

They seemed incapable of stepping up from their slumbering pattern of play, and straight away we played through them to snatch a second goal. While he'd not got on the score sheet, the ability of Robert to find space and put his foot on the ball was proving a vital commodity as confidence visibly returned to the players. 

McClen exemplified this by putting in some good work down the right in place of Solano, and not being afraid to try to play creatively as the game went on. I suppose even getting to start two games in a row must be a boost of sorts to the perennial reserve.

If anything, our chief handicap seemed to be that when we split the home defence it tended to be Robert and Bellamy charging in from each side, with one in possession and the other frantically trying to indicate his unmarked status, waiting in vain for a pass that never came.

That this even gets a mention though is proof of the complete turnaround in fortunes enjoyed by Newcastle - we were back to the high-octane style that has seen off teams across the country this season, and without Kieron Dyer. 

A third goal seemed almost inevitable, and in truth it could have been more, but at the back more good work from Sylvain Distin and the rest kept what attacks Spurs could muster at arms length, and another tremendous save from Shay Given snuffed out any hint of a comeback.   

What's especially pleasing is that this win, unlike the Arsenal and Leeds successes was purely due to a greater will to win from a Toon team against a London team - there were no dubious decisions, no dismissals, no penalties to carp on about on Radio 5 phone ins for days after, just a bona-fide deserved Newcastle victory.

Now, bring on the "easy" ones and let's see what we make of them. Into February now, and we're still kicking against the pricks and upsetting the cockney media darlings. 

Bravo, Bobby and his boys...