So there’s some sort of football tournament soon. Those of you who know me well will be aware that I have tried and failed several times to be the slightest bit interested in football. People I tell this to normally respond with “Oh, well, there’s the World Cup coming up. Everyone enjoys that. Even people who don’t like football.”
Well I beg to differ. I don’t like football and therefore the World Cup or similar tournaments are a vision of Hell on Earth for me. It seems for weeks at a time the entire nation except me goes absolutely insane and shows levels of supposed “patriotism” that they’d never normally show, only to get all grumpy and depressed when the England team inevitably comes to a crushingly embarrassing defeat at the hands of someone that the pundits say we “should have beaten”. Well no shit. Of course we “should have” beaten them. That’s how you win the tournament.
Anyway, fuck the World Cup, and here’s why:
That horrible shouty-singy-chanting that drunken men do, inevitably in the middle of the night outside my window when I’m trying to sleep.
As a musician and someone who actually recognises good singing when he hears it, there is no sound more loathsome to me than the sound of football chanting, except possibly that horrible sound that polystyrene makes when you scrape it against something – ugh, it gives me goosebumps (in a bad way) just thinking about it. But yes. Hearing some drunken twats shouting “EN-GUH-LUHND” in a discordant manner is not musical. Nor does it make me particularly inclined to think that Enguhluhnd is a place to be especially proud of.
Not only that, but these chants are often “sung” with such aggression that I find them genuinely threatening. I guess that’s the point – to try and intimidate rival fans and the opposing team – but I don’t particularly like it when I have to walk past or near people who are doing it. It gives me a sensation remarkably akin to panic. I fear for my own safety. I’ve never had any problems with football fans (normally because I stay the hell away from them) but the point is, I don’t feel safe around shouting people as a general life rule.
The racists come out to play.
Police are going around to all pubs andclubs saying we cant wear our england tops for the footie and we havetotake our england flags down as it is offending ppl that aren’t fromengland !!now imĀ NOT RACIST..BUT this is taking the piss!! THIS ISENGLAND & we need to make a stand!!! would u remove ur turban if itoffended me??? we need to stick together repost this as ur status andmake ur stand!!!! ENGLAND !
Seen this on Facebook recently? Leaving the appalling spelling, punctuation and grammar aside for a moment, it’s also not true. The England flag only ever comes out for football tournaments and people get very precious about it. Particularly racists. As a result, they make up bullshit like the quote above which quickly spreads itself around Facebook as one of those interminable copy-and-paste-this-as-your-status-if-you-don’t-have-a-mind-of-your-own-and-anything-interesting-to-say pieces of nonsense. It always comes back to the same few lines, too. “fuk of bak where u come frm” [sic], “wud u remove ur [turban/burka/sari] if it ofendid me” [sic] and numerous others. I’m sure you’ve seen them before.
The trouble is, the World Cup gets people into such a flap about the England flag that being racist about defending it suddenly becomes just peachy. Any excuse to blame the Muslims in particular is jumped on by the sort of people that support the BNP’s ideology. And that’s an ugly, ugly scene.
Pubs become a no-go area.
Sometimes you just want a quiet drink. Sometimes you want to chill out with friends. But at World Cup time, you try finding a pub that isn’t filled with 1) braying idiots and 2) a giant TV showing a match… even the ones that England aren’t involved with. It’s not easy. There are some out there, sure, but they’re not always easy to find. And should you find yourself stumbling into a pub which is showing the football at the time… well, I certainly find it a threatening environment. Light-hearted banter that “oooh, there’ll be riots if England lose” doesn’t help matters.
Forced joviality.
I hate hate hate it when people tell me what I should be excited about. I feel like a tool when I do any sort of “celebration” at the best of times, so there’s no way I’m going to make a twat of myself in front of the general public by trying to fit in with one of the communal bellows when one of the players does something that is apparently good. I feel like a fraud if I try (and I’ve tried) – so I’d rather not bother. I’d rather not be in that situation in the first place at all, thanks. But if I am forced to watch a football match, I’d much rather sit quietly with my drink and ignore what’s going on as much as possible, preferably with anyone who feels the same way.
Footballers.
Last of all, I really can’t get excited about something done by people I don’t have any interest in or even respect. I hate footballers. They’re overpaid prima donnas who can kick a ball around and get paid inordinately huge amounts of cash for it. And they are the most boring people on the planet. I can’t watch a footballer being interviewed. I have to switch over, because their droning voices and complete lack of personality make me want to summon a dimensional portal in my TV in order to let me slap them in the face until they wake up from their doziness.
“Oh, it’s jealousy,” you may say. Well damn right I’m jealous. I’d very much like to be paid hundreds of thousands of pounds a day for playing a game. But I’m not. So yes, I’m jealous. As are, I’m sure, many people out there who feel they make more valid contributions to society for a relative pittance.
So that’s why I hate World Cup time. I must confess, I don’t even actually know when it’s happening. This post was prompted by the fact that World Cup-themed adverts have started appearing on television, reminding me to grit my teeth and ride out the storm as I always do. And pray that if England do manage a successful bid to host the one in whatever year they’re trying to host it in, that I manage to emigrate or at least be temporarily out of the country while it’s on.
So, fuck the World Cup, and fuck football.