MY parallel universe theory about Wycombe Wanderers and Tottenham Hotspur just gets weirder and weirder.

I've written several times about how my two football teams always seem to share identical fortunes, at opposite ends of the league.

They normally win, lose and draw at the same time as each other. A few years ago, they both reached the FA Cup semi final at the same time, but both lost.

Had they both won, they would have played each other in the final. But that would have been impossible, because according to sci-fi experts, it's the end of the universe when parallel worlds collide.

Now it seems the show just goes on and on. Both clubs had achievable missions to get into the top seven of their division.

For Wycombe, it would have meant promotion play-offs. In Tottenham's case, it would have been Europe.

Sadly, Wycombe imploded a few weeks ago when they were on the verge of seventh place and they blew their chances.

Now the exact same thing has happened to Spurs, who had the seventh position in their grasp until very recently.

They finished ninth in their division while Wycombe coincidentally managed by ex-Spurs player John Gorman were tenth in theirs.

Spurs is the team I've supported since boyhood, while Wycombe is my adopted club ever since coming to the area 16 years ago. I've spent the last few seasons charting their records and found them to be bizarrely similar.

They even seem to change managers at the same time. The only major difference recently was that Wycombe went down last year while Tottenham hung on. But they both had dismal seasons then only to both have better campaigns this time around.

So is this a piece of true-life echoing science fiction? Or is it just that I always back losers?

JOURNALIST Jenna Towler learnt the hard way it's never wise to try to launch a martial arts attack on me.

Star reporter Jenna was positively crowing after doing a feature on how to defend yourself, following a visit to Chesham Jitsu Club.

Jitsu is a modernised style of Ju Jitsu, the unarmed fighting style of the Samurai, and our girl reckoned she's learnt enough in a session to take on the world.

She said she could easily now bring down a large bloke.

"Go on then, punk, make my day," I joked as I moved my 6ft 1in frame near her desk. "Try to beat me up."

I pretended to throw a punch and Jenna, who is 5ft 5in immediately replied by letting out an oriental yell and placing her arms into a terrifying combat position.

For a moment, I thought I was a dead man as she lunged forward to grab me and throw me to the floor.

But, sadly for Jenna, one of her arms accidentally caught the cereal bowl on her desk, knocking it to the floor and smashing it to little pieces.

I stood there unharmed and relieved, but poor Jenna was distraught at the thought of having no bowl for her Rice Krispies. Now that's what I call a cereal attacker.