There was football today. Another excuse for the Country’s National Sport to become anything but. The alleged ‘fans’ who seem to spend their pre-match time getting some ale into their faces so they can jeer, tease and chant provocation at the opposing ‘fans’. The venom and hatred in their faces is clear, they wear it like a badge.
The competition is never restricted to the field of play. A shame there is not an enclosure somewhere for the combatants to go one-on-one to show exactly how brave they are. They seem to prefer odds of 4 or 5 to 1 or to hide behind the actions of the mob. What a sad place the world has become.
Also in amongst this are the families, fathers with children, groups of young kids and people who have a genuine passion for the game without all the intent for mayhem that others bring along for the occasion.
As the evening draws ever closer and darker the next wave of hooligans begin to have their fun. The rockets, the eggs, the flour, the bangers, the whizz bangers that bring terror to the elderly and to those who don’t ‘understand’ the crack.
The calls come in and there are simply not enough response to go around or fly the flag to try to reassure the world that this madness will go away. The fizz, whizz, crack and bangs only serve to wind up my four legged friend. These are not anti social louts out for a good time, these are potential targets. He does not understand their humour.
Mr. X from Letsby Avenue decides to have a word and ask for some peace. He has his young neice staying and she is unwell, she has a heavy cold. He explains nicely but is subjected to a torrent of abuse, to threats, to the fun and ridicule of the mob. Mr X has no sons or brothers close enough to make a difference so he relies on his mates called Bill. They are busy, they cannot come but will be there when they are free.
We haven’t yet reached the monster that is halloween. Can’t wait.
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