Jason Cundy and Jamie O’Hara are the new AFTV and we’re hopelessly addicted

As a person who would cross train tracks to avoid a large stag do, I’d always been averse to talkSPORT.

Their coverage of live matches, which I’ve frequently used for work, is generally fine. But catching snippets of their phone-ins as a teenager turned me into a dog inside a hot car, pawing at the windows for escape.

Opinions were shouted, then doubled down upon. Bait was dangled without a modicum of subtlety, used to part listeners with their money in a rip-off-per-minute hotline.

Two defeats in a row for Manchester United, then not-crap, were discussed with the importance traditionally reserved for the Balkan Question, interspersed with adverts for Screwfix.

The tone was one of complete confidence, the type that reassures you the world can be understood with a Calpol-sized dose of common sense.

It’s a reflection of my snobbishness as much as anything, thinking myself above it all, but I felt disassociated from people who consumed their content and regurgitated their talking points.

But I’ve devoured every clip of Jamie O’Hara and Jason Cundy over the past few months, the essential soundtrack to Tottenham’s ongoing turmoil. And I don’t think I’m alone in doing so either.

You’ll be familiar with their set-up on The Sports Bar; O’Hara despairing after another Spurs defeat, slightly hamming it up for the camera, while Cundy gently turns the screw as only a good friend can.

Both used to play for Tottenham, although only O’Hara takes their setbacks to heart. His insistence Spurs ‘were back’ after their summer splooge makes him a conduit for a generation of fans pacified by transfer fees.

Meanwhile, Cundy is fast emerging as a Genuine National Treasure. His best asset is plausible deniability; O’Hara knows what his colleague is doing and so do we, but it’s delivered so straight that he must have been an undertaker in a former life.

The Postecoglou mask sported by the latter is one of our age’s great visual props, a real breakout character in its own right and vital to the 2026 experience.

It’s naff in the best possible way, oversized and stretched over Cundy’s face like something from a David Lynch horror, and deployed with pinpoint comedic timing.

The mask acts as a mic drop. No matter what point O’Hara is making, the argument is lost once the cameraman swings over to a silently brooding FrankenAnge.

One exchange doing the rounds is Cundy taking a call from a Tottenham fan, which undersells two minutes of comedy traditionally the preserve of Tim Canterbury and Gareth Keenan.

O’Hara splutters throughout, in the moments when his head leaves his hands. At one point, he exclaims Kevin Danso had been sold, only to be checkmated by the caller pointing out he’s only left on loan.

Ringmaster Cundy gently guides the interaction towards his desired destination, the voice of sincerity as he repeats little phrases to devastating effect – ‘got a solution’, ‘I like this’ and the future BAFTA nominee, ‘whole place went mad’.

I was genuinely laughing out loud by the time ‘bring back Poch’ aired, a genuinely noteworthy moment for someone with Resting Slavic Face.

It ends with O’Hara storming out, or attempting to before realising that would involve walking the long way round, as Cundy declares it ‘one of the best calls I’ve ever had’. Voyeuristic, but also harmless enough to share with your nan.

Ragebait content is nothing new; the genesis of O’Hara and Cundy – that specific rubber-necking at one club’s failures – is a product of AFTV and Mark Goldbridge, more-ish and deadening like unlimited fried chicken.

And most of the football media has pivoted in talkSPORT’s direction in 2026. Even the BBC, who really should be above it all, have gone down the fanalysis route with predictably banal results.

In truth, everything has gone this way now. Refined sensibilities bludgeoned into bite-sized chunks, commodified and injected straight into our eyeballs. It won’t be long before they invent a screen to scroll in our sleep.

Resistance feels futile, not least because of our vapourised attention spans, while the people with power busy themselves with narrowing any possible alternative for the future.

We might be in the trenches, but at least Cundy & O’Hara have sourced extra rations and a stack of cards. And that’s sometimes enough to forget the noise is louder than ever.