I've been out the last few nights snapping England flags off the cars in my neighbourhood till I've collected enough to build a huge patriotic footballing bonfire. You may feel this is childish, peevish, yobbish vandalism... and you would probably be correct. However, I do like to feel that I'm doing my bit to redress the balance. The way I see it, if I don't do it... who will? The majority of your ordinary, everyday vandals are likely to be football fans too, willing to suppress their destructive urges in celebration of their glorious game. (Well, at least until the inevitable happens, after which it'll be open season on any symbol that reminds them of their slaughtered dreams.)
You may also feel that the above paragraph contains a sweeping generalisation based around the premise that all football fans are yobs and vice versa. You would definitely be correct in that... however, in my defence, I've been the victim of many a sweeping generalisation from football fans all my life. Such as the generalisation that as a male of the species, I should automatically be interested in their precious sport. "Did you see the game last night?" "Looking forward to the match this weekend?" "What do you reckon to Rooney's chances on Saturday?" And the generalisation that when I express the opinion that I really couldn't give a monkey's left testicle... then there really is summat wrong with me.
Football fans are also among the first to make sweeping generalisations about my own alternative entertainment choices. They'll decide that because I read comics I'm some sad, loser geek. OK, so they're not exactly wrong about that. They'll think that because I like Morrissey I'm some morose, bequiffed misanthrope. OK, so that's a bad example too. Actually, maybe there is something to this sweeping generalisation business after all? A stereotype doesn't become a stereotype unless it's got a large dollop of truth mixed in... isn't that right, my hooligan brethren?
With that in mind, I'll be out again tonight (and tomorrow, between 8-30 and 11pm) snapping off those England flags for all I'm worth. Doing my bit for universal harmony. Because, after all, if I drove around with a huge Spider-Man mask sticking out the top of my sunroof, I'd expect you to do the same for me. Oh, and if you choose to challenge me on my behaviour, please don't try that old "where's your patriotic spirit?" bullshit, because I guarantee that won't get you anywhere. There's nothing even remotely patriotic about your little tribal gut-kicking contest, and just because you wear a red cross on your chest it hardly makes you St. George, now does it? Go out and slay some dragons or something, by jingo! Then we'll talk.
You may feel angry after reading this post... but then, football fans never did have much of a sense of humour. Of course, that might just be another sweeping generalisation... I'm willing to be proved wrong.
