Football, Racism, and Useless Running Dogs.
Now cut me some slack this morning, as they say. I am but a mere female, and I understand not that of which I speak…
I always understood the origins of football to lie in the mystic veneration with which a person’s head was held – it was somehow believed to contain the soul. Thus we gained the tradition of impaling that important part of the body on the pales of yon ancient fortress. When you ran out of pales, the surplus heads of your enemies were given to the young men to kick around to further signify the contempt in which you held your enemies. ‘Head kicking’ being abandoned at some point (although still alive and well in parts of Glasgow and Liverpool, where the local police culture dictates that they must at minimum be still attached to the body) a pig’s bladder was substituted.
From which I deduce that taking the ‘head’, pig’s bladder, or modern ‘FIFA approved’ hand stitched ball, away from the enemy still contains elements of tribal warfare. The key to success still appears to be proving your superiority over the enemy. By proving your superiority, you effortlessly prove his inferiority. Was that not the reason the Fabian’s tried so hard to remove all competitive sports from schools? That they were essentially the art of humiliating the ‘other’?
What could each team’s supporters do to assist their gilded youth? No more than try to help distract/humiliate/demoralise the other team. I assume that even in medieval times the crowd would chant such helpful memes as ‘may all your cow’s be barren, you sheep shagging farriers’. Later, as the industrial age took hold, the cry would go up ‘you useless candle wick trimmers’, or ‘gerrit’orf’im you big girl’s smock’. Since everybody knew each other/was related to each other/shared the same moon-faced features, these references to occupation or known wimpish unwillingness to tackle that big bloke from the iron foundry, such reference to physical or psychological traits was essential so that the crowd knew who was being insulted. All part of the fun – and purpose – of the game.
Once the population begun to move around the country, and strangers from foreign lands impregnated local girls, more distinguishing features entered the picture, fortuitously as it happens, for by that time the ‘players’ were no longer usefully employed as candlewick trimmers or farriers, so only their physical characteristics or known wimpish unwillingness to tackle that big bloke from Real Madrid could be used to single them out. Thus the bloke with the big nose became ‘Shylock’, the one with the impossible surname to pronounce became ‘that sheep shagging Mother fu**er from the valleys’ and the poor blighter who had to shadow the big bloke from Real Madrid became ‘you big girl’s blouse’, smocks being a long forgotten item of apparel by this time.
Nobody ever suggested that referees should be placed amongst the crowds to ensure that all candlewick trimmers were not labelled as ‘useless’ nor that all farriers were being insulted by the suggestion that they were overly given to a sexual infatuation with mutton dressed as anything.
Now I see that ‘You big girl’s blouse’ could be taken as an indication of derogatory comments towards a player who displays visible wimpishness, Like rolling on the ground clutching his leg because another player passed within six inches of him; since it is a derogatory comment, and identifies what might be seen as feminine characteristics now that women have taken to rolling on the ground clutching their lawyers phone number if another male passes within six inches of them, then it is obviously homophobic. This is akin to racism and ‘must be stamped out’ – by positioning additional referees in the crowd to ensure that players are not identified by anything which might offend them?
I’m baffled. A game that started with stamping on your opponents head ends with stamping on identifying your opponent verbally?
What is the point of football now? Can anyone explain?
*****************************************
Since you have your homework set for the day explaining the point of football, can I set an additional question for an extra ten points?
I speak as a dog owner. Well, it looks like a dog, but it talks rather than barks (for evidence, speak to any of my visitors, it does bloody talk!) and it is intelligent enough to have figured out that if you throw your head back when you have a ball in your mouth and you are facing a steep bank, and then let go, the ball will hit the bank and bounce back at you. You can then catch it again to multiple admiration – both for catching it, and for figuring out how to throw it without pestering the humans to get out of their deck chair and play ‘games’ with you. Apart from that it is bloody useless; I should know, I’ve been pouring dog food in one end and clearing the result from the other end off the lawn for years now.
Now I understand that the dog ownership game originated from something called a ‘guard-dog’ which was designed to bite anything that it didn’t recognise as having permission to access its can opener whilst the normal can opener operator was asleep. Some people, not I unfortunately, are lucky enough to own a direct genetic descendant of one of these guard-dogs.
They still play by the original rules. “I go to sleep, you bite anything that comes in the house”. Apparently the rules have been changed today. The dog has to be tied up to prevent it biting anything that goes bump in the night.
So for an additional ten points – what is the point of a dog that’s not allowed to bite burglars?
May 8, 2013 at 23:13
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I hate sport, mostly football. That’s the only thing I have in common with
Ann Robinson. All sport reminds me of being clouted by the PE teacher for not
‘taking part’ and taking my fags off me only to see them again in her mouth,
gloating without shame umph. Everyone I know from school who did ‘take part’
with enthusiasm suffer wobbly knees and rickety hips. Not me ahh I’m well
covered and would most definitely bounce if I hit the floor, however I would
never attempt anything as rash as that.
- May 8, 2013 at 19:14
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I’ve noticed that dogs can always tell when you’re awake, no doubt so they
can then bark to inform burglars to get out the house before you have chance
to catch them… This is why I don’t trust dogs.
- May 8, 2013 at 17:47
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One comment above says
‘And ALL forms of physical sport: athletics in particular seemed totally
pointless – running on a track, getting all hot, bothered & sweaty just to
end up back where you started from. Must be the most pointless activity
ever.’
OK, I’ve had enough of such twaddle, so let’s play devil’s advocate. If we
leave aside the evils of life such as real warfare, and try not to get
sidetracked into anything other than basics, Sport is no more, or no less,
pointless than almost any other form of human endeavour that is not directly
related to ensuring that at the end of any one day we have the wherewithal to
put a crust in our mouth, a roof on our head and hopefully manage satisfactory
and successful family relationships.
Outside of that almost everything else is about attaining some sort of
personal satisfaction and achievement, be it film watching, reading, doing
crosswords, modelling, stamp collecting, train spotting, political
participation, writing, gaming, whatever else you can add to the list.
Some of that is actually little different from team sports. Having watched
local councillors shouting at each other over the committee table more often
than I care to remember, there is little difference between them and the two
ends of a football ground, and their behaviour is often worse. But, as at a
football ground, each side is there to make sure that they, and their ideas,
‘win’… And please don’t make me throw up by saying that they are all really
there ‘to make people’s lives better’ – I just cannot bring myself to believe
that any more. Blogging is just an electronic form, with it’s own Yah! Boo!
Sucks! culture…with the odd, somewhat more pleasant, backwater, of course,
where some gentility is still practised
Most other pursuits and hobbies are similarly personal achievement
orientated, with the same thrills and spills for the individual, whether the
‘products’ or ‘collectibles’ are tangible, egs cookery, modelling,
photography, rare books etc; intangible, such as observational collecting; or
emotional, such as Gildas’ film watching, for instance
At root, none of these provide any individual experience that is so much
different from what the sportsman, or the afficionado spectator, obtains by
doing their thing. Both they, and the rest of the world, can ‘feel’ the same
‘highs’ that are attainable, the ‘perfect’ painting, making that better timed
run, the emotionally charged love story, the long putt, the visually
enthralling film, as well as feeling the same ‘lows’, the missed ‘last’
locomotive, coming second, the less than satisfactory book, the dropped catch,
the rejection on the doorstep, and the policy we all loved yesterday being
thrown out tomorrow
And, just as for sport, they are all experiences and feelings that are
transient, done once, here now, and gone tomorrow, and we surf on, to pursue
tomorrow’s perfect wave
To say….. ‘And ALL forms of physical sport: athletics in particular seemed
totally pointless – running on a track, getting all hot, bothered & sweaty
just to end up back where you started from. Must be the most pointless
activity ever.’…..completely fails to grasp that what each of us, who may not
recognise one end of a snooker cue from the other, do, is not really much
different within our own personal aims, likes and desires, that everything is
pretty much like that for everyone, and, maybe worse, that we, as we each
possibly morph into a greasy blob at our desk while scribbling our petty
wisdoms, ultimately will not achieve anything that is, subjectively,
qualitatively more.
To think that our not appreciating sport provides us with some moral,
intellectual, or experiential superiority is just bollocks
It’s all been said before, much more eloquently too
Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher. “Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless.” What do people gain from all their labours at
which they toil under the sun? Generations come and generations go, but the
earth remains forever. The sun rises and the sun sets, and hurries back to
where it rises. The wind blows to the south and turns to the north; round and
round it goes, ever returning on its course. All streams flow into the sea,
yet the sea is never full. To the place the streams come from, there they
return again. All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never
has enough of seeing,
nor the ear its fill of hearing. What has been will
be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under
the sun. Is there anything of which one can say, “Look! This is something
new”? It was here already, long ago; it was here before our time. No one
remembers the former generations,
and even those yet to come will not be
remembered by those who follow them.
Thus endeth the rant for today
- May 8,
2013 at 18:27
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A few too many Samuel Beckett plays?
-
May 9, 2013 at 08:16
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Calm down, dear! Actually quite a good existentialist rant though….
- May 9, 2013 at 09:43
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excellent rant. I particularly liked:
‘To think that our not appreciating sport provides us with some moral,
intellectual, or experiential superiority is just bollocks’
-
May 8, 2013 at 13:49
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Even worse happened to me Gildas. I went to give my cousin a break in
Portugal from being with her very elderly demanding mother. Aunty and I were
invited to a BBQ. Just a short walk to my cousin’s daughter’s house. They had
a very active Springer Spaniel called Betty. All the evening I was conned into
throwing a stick for her. While I was doing this I apparently quaffed nearly a
bottle of white wine. I clung onto Aunty on the way back with rubber legs. She
had a golden opportunity to say, quite pleasantly…..’I thought you came to
take care of me, not the other way round’. Oh and she locked my borrowed bike
in the garage and ‘lost’ the key. Fell over on grass trying to ‘help’ me to
put up the washing line, and demolished a plastic garden table on the way
down. She snook out around 12 at night, just down from a rowdy pub, to check I
put the wheely bin in the right place. Told them in the chemists that she had
a fall, and then repeated that they said she should have seen a doctor! Oh and
she out lived my cousin….surviving to 103! In all quite an event filled
visit
- May 8, 2013 at 13:35
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The point of Football is to enable politicians to comment on events within
that sport. In their heads this makes them appear ‘with it’, ‘in touch with
common people’ and ‘normal’ to the ignorant masses. In everyone else’s head
they are ‘annoying’, ‘desperate’, ‘patronising’ and ‘ignorant’.
The point of dogs is to remind us how fabulous getting one’s ears scratched
can be.
- May 8, 2013 at 13:41
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@ The point of Football is to enable politicians to comment on events
within that sport. In their heads this makes them appear ‘with it’ @
I thought that was what the “Arctic Monkeys” were for…………..
- May 8,
2013 at 18:26
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Or Tracy Emin.
Girls have hockey and lacrosse btw. Almost every Enid Blyton boarding
school novel ended with a lacrosse match.
-
May 8, 2013 at 12:53
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A propos Madam Raccoon’s hound, there was an interesting incident when I
visited Raccoon Towers a while ago. The hound is, as i recall, very fond of
its tennis balls, and of chasing the same in a most excitable manner before
chewing the balls into an extreme and frothy mess. It took great delight in
all stages of this pursuit. Unfortuneatly for me, the houd deposited one of
the said chewed and frothed balls onto a chair, whereupon your scribe,
unwitting and unaware and lightly dressed in brief holiday garb, proceeded to
sit down,
It was indeed an anus horribilis.
- May 8, 2013 at 14:06
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That incident did come to mind as I was writing that, Gildas, I thought
you would prefer not to be reminded of how uncomfortable you were with your
backside covered in saliva….I thought the other guests were discrete in the
extreme at politely looking away when one of the ‘Monk’s’ green and slimy
balls dropped off as he walked away…..!
-
May 9, 2013 at 08:14
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Hahahahhahah!
- May 8, 2013
at 11:48
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“what you can’t do is take this blog down. I live in Europe. I can be ‘got
at’ under the Royal Charter. This blog lives in the US, in order to take it
down you will need the agreement of the US court that what is
written on it is libelous under US law, not merely that it ‘offends’ you.
Tough luck! Mr G is all for us moving to the US, just so that I can
keep going, keep speaking out on the insanity that is the UK today. Can’t
say I fancy it, but I am just angry enough to do so if I have
to.”
“If someone jumps up and down, claiming to be a ‘victim’ without any proof
whatsoever except their say-so, then I quibble with the definition, and to my
knowledge that is not the American way, but it does seem to be the UK way
lately.”
Then I suggest you research the following:
False memory syndrome and MPD
Misery Me Literature (Dave Peltzer in
particular).
Hollywood and made for TV movies that glorify
victimhood
The American Psychiatric Association, DSM and the inflation of
mental illness
For first hand stuff take a look at the Usenet Alt.support groups.
Just saying.
- May 8, 2013 at 15:06
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Erm – you sure you’ve got the right thread? Not much about football or
dogs. Just saying…..
- May 8, 2013 at 15:14
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I think Louise was trying to make a further reply on this
blogpost
https://www.annaraccoon.com/politics/past-lives-and-present-misgivings-part-nine/
but
comments were closed a short while ago.
- May
8, 2013 at 18:23
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Mea maxima culpa.
A vague connection with the jumping up and down thing though.
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May 8, 2013 at 08:17
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At its most potent football is tribalism and both an opportunity to take
local pride in an institution representing your home town or district if you
still live there, or to retain a connection if you’ve moved away. I live four
miles from a top-flight football club and every other week I pass it to drive
a further 100 miles to watch a team in a lower division with one tenth of the
support. But that’s my club and although I’ve lived away for 35 years, it can
never be suppplanted.
-
May 8, 2013 at 04:16
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Football, an activity whereby 11-16 year old children are made to stand in
a freezing field in inadequate clothing for one afternoon per week and hope
that the ball doesn’t come their way, the point of the exercise being to
instill in them an awareness of the futility of football, which was in my case
totally successful.
- May 8, 2013 at 16:37
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Ditto.
And ALL forms of physical sport: athletics in particular seemed totally
pointless – running on a track, getting all hot, bothered & sweaty just
to end up back where you started from.
Must be the most pointless activity ever.
-
May 8, 2013 at 04:09
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Out on my bike a couple of days ago, riding down a bridleway, when a dog
ran up to me and started trying to get itself run over by rushing at me from
all directions and barking. The owner soon hove into view, and I expected the
usual futile “Come here, Lassie” which the dog would ignore, having learned
that there’s no sanction for ignoring, no reward for obeying. Oh no, none of
that. “She does love chasing bikes,” I was told, with a big smile.
“Well, that’s a coincidence,” I replied as I wobbled past, trying to avoid
making a mess of her dog, “I do love running over dogs.”
- May 8, 2013 at 01:00
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Is not sport about a group of men who need exercise watching a group of men
who need a rest.
- May 7, 2013 at 21:47
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At a logical level, I do not see the point of either football or domestic
dogs.
How the outcome of contest lasting 90 minutes can be accepted when its
result is usually dictated by only one or two fluke events (goals) quite
baffles me – that flawed process cannot realistically reflect the balance of
the play between the teams, hence the inflamed emotions generated against
reputedly defective referee calls etc. But I do accept that football satisfies
the simple-minded, the tribal and those who find counting beyond two to be a
challenge etc., whilst at the same time generating phenomenal revenues for
those involved in staging it and substantial money-laundering opportunities in
the creative management of its finances. It’s not a sport, it’s not even a
game, it’s just a successfully marketed entertainment for the
hard-of-thinking.
My admiration of working dogs knows no bounds. Guide-dogs, sheep-dogs,
sniffer-dogs, rescue-dogs etc. all achieve remarkable feats in support of
their human masters. I simply don’t get the point of accommodating, servicing
and maintaining such a beast in a purely domestic role. If you want to deter
burglars, get a gun, an alarm or even some geese – at least no-one has qualms
about eating the latter, unlike dogs outside Korea. If you’re lonely, get out
and get some real friends. If you need an excuse for exercise, get a bike. If
you feel an urge to dominate some subordinate creature, get some counselling.
A domestic dog is simply a waste of resources on every level. (My neighbours
have one of those – it somehow knows instinctively not to mess with me.)
So, having successfully alienated all the footie and doggie folks, it’s
time for me to go and contemplate the forthcoming Test Cricket season, now
there’s a proper game !
- May 8, 2013 at 14:22
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Well, Muddy, all I can add are my comments.
Dogs as pets, friends & companions? Well, whilst I hesitate to
anthropomorphise – and I have cats as opposed to dogs – all I can say is
that the more people I meet, the more I appreciate animals.
And I avoid avid football fanatics which is fortunately quite easy since
I can identify them by the way they’re trailing their knuckles along the
pavement…
- May 7,
2013 at 19:44
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I have two great-nephews (twins) who are aged somewhere around 11-12.
They’re from Newcastle, and are rugby-mad. You can’t keep them off the pitch,
despite a recent arm injury for one (he’s in a sling) and a ‘being stamped on’
injury – right on his eye, mind you – for the other. They play for a league.
No point in trying to get them to quit, it won’t happen. In the meantime, they
both play music as well. I think if the rugby injuries interfered with that,
we might have a change of heart about rough sports, but boys will be boys, and
on top of which they’re good at it.
- May 7, 2013 at 18:59
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‘Football is an opportunity for corpulent grown men to fastoon themselves
in virulent bright/expensive gear to support 11 suberbly fit, thin young guys’
Intentional or otherwise, that is the funniest thing I have read today.
miss mildred, thank you so much! Satire is not dead, satire is gay.
- May 7, 2013 at 19:58
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May 7, 2013 at 18:41
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Football is an opportunity for corpulent grown men to fastoon themselves in
virulent bright/expensive gear to support 11 suberbly fit, thin young guys,
who earn vast sumes of money. This is for falling over, preferably in the
penalty area. Kicking footballs at arms is another recent skill, in the hopes
of getting yet another penalty kick. Acting as if one is mortally wounded also
helps. Celebrating goals in various odd ways is also a speciality too.
Meanwhile the grown men shout and ‘sing’ rude ditties. Bang drums, blow
trumpets, boo, whistle, swear and wave colourful scarfs about. The players
come from all parts of the world apart from the home town. They go to the
highest bidder for their services and some of them are quite nice really. A
lot of the managers are from Scotland too or have very fractured English. I
quite like football. I think the goalkeepers are very clever to fling
themselves about and bounce up so expertly. However I prefere rugby league. I
was taken to matches by my dad. They mostly carry the ball. The rough and
tumble is deliberate, maybe not so bad tempered as footy. I have no real views
about dogs. I object to their poo decorating the pavements….they are indeed
s**t machines.
-
May 7, 2013 at 19:31
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I think, round here, Huddersfield, it can still be used as an excuse for
blokes to bugger off with their kids and/or grandkids and leave the women to
do their thing (it used to be to do the weekly shop – hence why chippies
open on Saturday lunch but not tea time). However, season tickets are still
quite affordable here and the pubs and cafes as well as the club itself have
put incredible efforts into being family friendly. I think cops even ask
people if they “plan on being arseholes could you pop yourself through that
turnstyle please, better for everyone dontcha know, there’s kiddies over
there”, “right you are officer”. I used to work at one of the boozers on the
way to the ground and all the fanzines specifically stated it was for dads
and families and it was lovely with the highly good humoured banter. I think
the Premier league has just left everything behind and is just corporate
crap rather than local heroes, shame I guess.
- May 7, 2013 at 17:16
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The dog is there not to bite but to calm down the burglar – patting a dog
reduces stress.
So it’s important we respect “burglar’s rights” and provide
a passive animal.
- May 7, 2013 at 15:30
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Homework 7 May 2013
1 – Football is allowed as a means of ensuring that, on both national and
international bases, this generation’s yobs have some suitably aggressive
pastime in which to occasionally imndulge, much resembling the former
practices of kicking off each other’s heads or, more latterly, blowing them
off. This ensures that they are suitably engaged in such substitutionary
activity as a means of avoiding their doing such to the rest of society in
general. This is of particular importance during such times as there is no
other form of government sponsored armed antagonism which, while having the
flaw that it has a more significant overspill into the rest of the general
population, it ultimately reaches the same end, or an even better one, the
bringing about of the demise of a large part of such yobbery, whilst
simultaneously making the remainder quickly grow up and appreciate the merits
of just being alive, and leaving others to also go about their business in
likeminded peace and quiet
2 – Any future breed of dog that is genetically modified in such a way as
to not be allowed to bite burglars will have the merit of being grown big
enough to swallow them whole.
- May 7, 2013 at 15:28
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“So for an additional ten points – what is the point of a dog that’s not
allowed to bite burglars?”
I happen to know a bloke that spends a fair chuck of time breaking into
people’s houses, often when they are not there; he is as it happens, a police
officer – so I assume with a warrant in his back pocket.
Interestingly he told me that at first he was concerned by dogs, but never
any more. Apparently with the vast majority of these ‘aggressive barkers’ that
look kinda scary they are absolutely terrified without their owners around.
Often they will literally shit themselves, which must be a double whammy
returning home to find your drugs gone and a dogs mess on your carpet.
It kinds makes sense. Even if you’re larger male Rottweiler I’m still
around twice your weight and 3 times as tall. If a mob of 200kg 20 foot tall
yetis came bursting into my house I too would probably consider shitting
myself eminently rational.
- May 7, 2013 at 15:59
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You are so right – we went out the other day and left the dog in the
garden – but unfortunately we also left the gate open. Normally he stands
behind the gate and growls furiously at anyone who goes past. On this
occasion we returned to find the dog reluctantly and sheepishly crawling out
from the very middle of the woodpile….
Well, with the gate left open
anyone could have attacked him, so he had obviously hidden until we were
safely back to protect him…..
- May 7, 2013 at 19:21
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Ah, bless – err..pussy dog…no, no probably not.
- May 8, 2013 at 23:00
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the point of a dog is so vets can live the high life.
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May 7, 2013 at 15:09
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When it’s not your lads running up and down the pitch, i.e., it is a match
in which you have no emotional investment, I wonder how many people still love
football as much. Football, it must be said, can be very frustrating, in that
one can see a side do everything right, i.e., strip the other team of the
ball, properly build up through the midfield, find the open on-side attacker
(wing or forward), work it in front of goal, and– nothing, as a defender
clears it, the goalkeeper smothers it or deflects it, or the shot sails high
or wide. Repeat process the other way– about twenty or so of these exchanges
taking place every half, bar the occasional free kick/corner/penalty. If it’s
two sides you have no investment in, say you’re watching a Champion’s League
match outside an English team’s bracket, you may very well say, “Will these
sides NEVER score, FFS?” and chuck in the towel, and turn the set to something
else.
-
May 7, 2013 at 14:26
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Whether a dog should be allowed to eat burglars is neither here nor there.
A dog’s duty is to bark at burglars (or potential burglars) in such an
aggressive manner that they can’t be sure that the dog understands that he
isn’t allowed to eat them.
As for football, I used to enjoy watching it in the days before pundits,
when discussing a penalty award where the attacker has fallen over as if
pole-axed said things like “The defender touched him he was entitled to go
down”. Nowadays I just get annoyed with it so I switch it off.
- May 8, 2013 at 12:49
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But if the burglar is too stupid to avoid putting himself in a position
or situation where his uncertainty may be put to the test, I fail to see why
any blame should be apportioned to said canine or canine’s keepers.
I utterly refute and will never accept that I have any responsibility of
care – in any shape or form – to any of the ungodly who is in my premises –
uninvited – for nefarious purposes.
That the above category will, by definition, include canvassing politicos
is neither here nor there.
- May 7, 2013 at 13:53
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“Like rolling on the ground clutching his leg because another player passed
within six inches of him”
Precisely, complete and utter bunch of tarts, why other ‘men’ (and I rather
dislike the comparison in this context) all think that football is the
greatest game ever.. has baffled me my whole life. Whatever the gene it is
that makes men like football I simply do not have a trace of, its no real
contest and in turn sport. Growing up as a boy in this country without the
football gene has always left me somewhat on the outside looking in for much
of the social experience.
A proper contest is something like boxing, or if you really have to be
sociable about things- rugby. Maybe rowing, I also like rowing on the basis
that if your bigger and stronger you make your boat move faster than the other
guys and win, fair enough. Even though since the likelihood of coming away
with bruises is so minimal I have to question even this.
Don’t even get me started on feffing Cricket!
- May 7, 2013 at 15:08
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Many of us otherwise quite normal blokes are bored stiff by football,
though some I’m sure feign interest to avoid the pitying glances from the
fanatics.
I think I may have been cured by aversion therapy; being taken
to stand on icy terraces at Elm Park in the late 1940s as a lad could have
done it. Going to a very ordinary grammar and being told ‘…we play rugger
here. If you want to play football there’s a girl’s school down the road.’
reinforced the conditioning.
Still, it does make cricket seem more
interesting.
A very special form of the ritual is non league
football.
An entirely unscientific observation of that activity locally
would suggest a direct connection between footie mania and proximity of
knuckles to the ground. Limited vocabulary and a spitting habit are also
areas for possible study.
No offence intended, I’m sure it’s just my
corner of W Sussex.
- May 7, 2013 at
13:07
-
Two answers for the price of one…….. – combine a footballer with a dog and
you come up with Bertie Vogts – Der Terrier ! Ta dah
His wife only had to feed him once a day and she didn’t have to worry about
licking his b@lls, as he would do it for him sen….. oh and the germans loved
him
Now that’s what you call a win~win
This homework lark is a doddle.
- May 7, 2013 at 12:22
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The point of football is to enrich a chosen few at the expense of the
lumpen and usually (I’ll be charitable, here) terminally thick many. The
chosen few are very good indeed at separating currency from the said lumpen
proletariat, on many pretexts – Sky Sports fees, replica strips, season
tickets that work out at about a fiver a minute watching time, prawn
sandwiches and the fleecing of corporate sponsors. Those wanting football as a
sporting spectacle should entertain themselves with the lower amateur leagues
or local pub teams.
Those wanting top-flight sport should stick to Rugby Union and Test
Cricket; the first for the enjoyment of watching two teams tear lumps out of
each other whilst rolling around in the mud, the latter for the pleasure of
relaxing in the sunshine, nattering with one’s friends, snoozing, consuming
Pimms and chocolate cake and listening to Henry Blofeld burbling on the radio
whilst ostensibly watching a contest. Test Cricket is possibly one of the
finest ways man (as opposed to woman) has yet invented of wasting time.
Utterly lost on football supporters, fortunately.
As to mankind’s small, furry friends (or furry heat-seeking digestive
tracts as they are sometimes called), they absolutely should be allowed to eat
burglars. It would supplement their diet nicely. The question is a little more
open when it comes to postmen, however.
- May 7, 2013 at 18:58
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I thought cricket devised so that Englishmen could have some sense of
eternity, no?
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May 7, 2013 at 22:28
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No. Five days is just long enough to enjoy a relaxing break from
reality.
- May 7, 2013 at 22:33
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The Irish always said that only the English could have invented a
game that lasts for five days and then ends in a draw……..
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May 8, 2013 at 11:08
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They’re probably right. But as explained above, the English had a
subtle hidden agenda….
- May 7, 2013 at 11:51
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British football should hire Robert O’Connor. He’ll sort out all this
unseemly triumphalism
http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=237_1367728798
- May 7, 2013 at 11:39
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Now I can’t speak for everyone, but for a very visible few it appears to be
a socially acceptable pretext for waging war (off the pitch) against those you
find objectionable – in that regard it’s a lot like a religion, but *that’s* a
whole different blogpost…!
I lived in Newcastle for seven years so I know whereof I speak. From the
carnage in the city centre a few weeks ago after the Tyne & Wear derby, to
the hordes descending on the Sports Direct shop to smash things and scare the
staff because the stadium’s name had been changed, the more unsavoury
followers of football have left an indelible mark, ostensibly in the name of
their sport.
As for the thousands who aren’t involved in anything like this, one can
only presume they go for the thrill of competition and the hopes that their
beloved team will be proved superior in action on the day. Sadly, the mindless
goons mentioned previously generate more headlines, and thus occupy a more
prominent position in the worried heads of us non-supporters.
- May 7, 2013 at 11:14
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@ What is the point of football now? @
Opium of the Masses, dearie.
- May 7,
2013 at 17:56
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I thought that was ‘X Factor’ and ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ now..?
- May 7, 2013 at 18:08
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May 8, 2013 at 12:43
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Both!
{ 52 comments }