English Society Creates its Own Issues

So for the past few weeks, I have noticed a fair few nationalist groups springing up on Facebook which have obviously been as a reaction towards fictitious or miss-quoted news stories that have arisen in light of the World Cup.

I am of course referring to groups such as “STOP Police banning the England flag during the World Cup” and “Its funny how our flag offends you but our benefits dont”. One cannot help but notice, on top of the grammatical errors in the title, just how moronic these groups are and not least the disgusting amount of xenophobia that reeks from the thousands of people who have joined or liked them.

This talk of banning England shirts because it offends ethnic minorities is most certainly false and we can clear this up with an issued statement from the government themselves here.

Of course, these right wing imbeciles would also point out the recent story of the woman whose young son was supposedly refused entry on to a bus because his England shirt offended the Polish bus driver. This, again, was also proved to be a lie as was shown by the bus company’s investigation here. My guess is the real reason she was refused on was because she could not afford the fare and decided to express her bitterness towards the ‘dirty’ foreigner whom she has a deep-seated abhorrence towards.

These incidents show, not just how some sections of English society still bear some sort of irrational animosity towards immigrants, but also how some white English people actually create a lot of these issues themselves.

There are some white English, who are so terrified of offending ethnic minorities, that they go to great lengths to have, for example, popular nursery rhymes such as ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’ changed to ‘Baa Baa Multi-coloured Sheep” or to ban Christmas decorations from being put up in areas that have a high Muslim population. It really is political correctness gone mad.

But the real problem occurs when more right wing idiotic sections of society, who don’t do their research properly, read about these proposed changes or bans and then decide to blame the all ethnic minorities for it when they failed to realize that it was in fact their white counterparts who suggested it in the first place.

This is exactly what has happened in the build up to the World Cup. With patriotism riding high, it was inevitable that some sections of English society would misconstrue news stories regarding England shirts, flags and supposed banning.

Although there are some small sections of ethnic minorities communities that do indeed have a militant hatred towards, not just British, but western society - their membership is, relatively small and certainly not representative of the views of the majority of the immigrant and immigrant descended community.

As far as I know, most ethnic minorities do not care whether a white English person flies the St George’s flag for the World Cup or wears their England top. In fact, most of us are in fact joining in quite happily with the World Cup atmosphere. I’m probably more patriotic about our national team than most of my white friends.

And to jump on the bandwagon that all immigrants are simply coming over to claim benefits and cheat the system is just simply hogwash exemplifying how many people buy into the hyperbole of appalling publications such as the Daily Mail and The Sun. The vast majority of immigrants travel to the U.K to work hard in the form of employment or study.

Of course, some may point out that a St George’s flag cannot be flown without the said individual being labeled as racist and fascist. This, however, is the fault of political groups such as the BNP and the National Front who have used the flag so extensively, that it has almost become a symbol for these extreme views. Whilst such connotations decrease during the World Cup, I believe the only way we can stop this happening is by reclaiming the St George’s flag from the right wing. Encouraging all English, no matter what racial background, to be proud and to demonstrate their patriotism.

My Jekyll and Hyde Attitude Towards the World Cup

With the dust settling after all the recent British political fervor involving a coalition relationship between two unlikely individuals, I have decided to turn my attention towards the greatest sporting event on earth. Yes, the World Cup is only a few weeks away and I can already feel the atmosphere building in this country like a volcanic ash cloud creeping into the airspace.

What I love about the World Cup is the fact it’s the only time this self depreciating, self-hating country actually binds together and experiences some form of patriotic pride. It’s the only time the fault-finding English forget about the unpredictable weather, the badly paved streets, and the apparent degradation of society driven by those individuals we call chavs. It’s one of the few periods where a white English person can fly a St George’s flag without fear of being labeled a right wing racist – although this has never been a problem for myself being of an oriental disposition.

Without sounding too much like a representative of FIFA, I have to say I love the World Cup fever. I love seeing everyone walking around wearing their England tops and the cars driving past with the St George’s flags attached to the windows. I love how the country is gripped when the national team plays their matches and the joy that ensues when we score. I love getting drunk and singing the England chants with friends and complete strangers at the pub. No other event can come close to bringing this nation together. Not the Olympics, not even St George’s day.


Yet, at the same time, I also experience Jekyll and Hyde syndrome whenever a World Cup comes around. At times, the grumpy old man within me rears his ugly, wrinkled head. The main issue at stake is the fact I dislike how all these individuals who normally take no interest in football suddenly become experts at the sport – not least those women who suddenly feel they are ‘in with the lads’ by wearing their England top, drinking pints and screeching the chants in the pub. And then they tell you their favourite player is the one with the nicest legs and that they like the French team because their kit is pretty.

Groan.

And for god’s sake, stop asking about Beckham. He’s injured, past it and has no future left in the national team. Additionally, when the World Cup is over, these same people tell you that it’s just a game and question why we follow the sport so religiously. Unbelievable.

It is a difficult tension between two personalities that I have to overcome, but ultimately (I’m glad to say), the patriotic drunk always wins.


As for England’s chances, I have to say despite the controversies involving certain players, the Football Association and even the manager, we have the best chance of winning the World Cup in years. Even more so then 4 years ago with the so called ‘Golden Generation’ and a clueless, balding Swede.

Our manager, Italian he may be, is the best manager the team has had since Alf Ramsey. A disciplinarian, a tactician and a maker of men. Unlike the attack-at-all-costs style of the Premier League, international football is significantly more measured in its method of play and requires a lot more restraint and a more cultured approach towards the game – something which the national team has failed to do for many years. Fabio Capello has finally stamped upon the England team a more international style of passing the ball short and keeping it; rather than hoof it up to the big man at every opportunity. He’s got the best out of star player Wayne Rooney and most importantly, he’s got the team playing with confidence after years of ego-battering underachievement.

I suppose then, that my final words to this introduction to the World Cup are ones of hope and encouragement. Let’s unite as a nation, let’s get behind the lads and let’s believe we can do it.

The Election - more exciting than I than I thought it would be

I don’t normally retract statements but I have to admit I was wrong when I wrote 4 weeks ago that we would have another dreary election and an inevitable shift of power to the Conservatives. It has indeed been a fascinating election tinged with voting controversies and shocking results.

I actually stayed up till the obscene time of 9am on Friday morning to watch most of the seat declarations.

Whilst I chuckled when home secretary Jacqui Smith was displaced in her constituency, I also sighed when colourful Lib Dem candidate Lembit Opik lost his supposedly very safe seat. It was a poor night for my supported party, the Lib Dems, who actually lost a few seats. This, I attribute to people fearing that their vote wouldn’t count and so decided to choose a candidate who was more likely to win – a perfect demonstration of why we need to reform the electoral system.

I also groaned when Conservative candidate Zac Goldsmith won in Richmond park. He was quite clearly the epitome of Tory – rich son of a billionaire, public school boy, upper-class accented. Everything I despise in the Conservatives. And his denial that his seat was won with his father’s money just antagonized me further.

The first ever elected Green candidate in Brighton was a perfect reflection of the area. Anyone who’s been to this coastal town will be aware of the strong smell of left-wing, liberal, hippy-environmentalism that hangs in the air.

David Dimbleby and Jeremy Paxman were astonishing in the manner in which they managed to stay alert and lively throughout the whole night on the BBC’s election coverage. In fact, I often wonder what Paxman is on that keeps his bulldog personality ticking.

So now we have the first hung in 30 years. And I’m actually quite thrilled at the prospect of further political activity as Labour and perhaps the Conservatives struggle to form some of a government. Yes it was disappointing for the Lib Dems, but although they lost seats, they sit in a position of power as the other two main parties look to them to form a coalition government. It will be fascinating to see what unfolds.

Tee Total Time Up

My challenge to go without alcohol for a month was finally completed yesterday and celebrated, appropriately (or perhaps quite inappropriately), with a drink. As I gulped the bitter sweet amber nectar out of the strangely comforting pint glass (which I have sorely missed) at the Captain’s Cabin in central London, I reflected upon what I have achieved.

In the grand scheme of things, one month’s abstinence from alcohol is nothing. Some people renounce alcohol for the rest of their lives whilst others relinquish consuming meat. Some even sacrifice all sex related acts for the sake of religious leadership - although a few do break this and get caught up in a tangled web of controversy involving under age individuals [cough Catholic Church].

But as a personal challenge, this was a commendable achievement. For a month, I could not reach for a beer at home when I was bored or depressed. I also had to contain my alcoholic appetite whenever I went out with people to bars or pubs. Whilst I was noticeably more quiet in social situations, I was however more sensible and measured with the way I conducted myself. Rather than my conversations descending into drunken laddish banter (often perceived as rude and incomprehensible to those around us) I maintained a composed and I daresay more mature way of conversing with other individuals.

However, with new acquaintances I was markedly more self conscious in my demeanour and I’m quite certain a fair few people picked up on this. This was a side of me I have been hiding with alcohol for a very long time.

As I progressed through I month, I realized I was replacing alcohol consumption with playing football. Any kick about that I was invited to, I would attend. Although already part of an 11-a-side team, I also joined a 5-a-side Power League team as well. My sessions in our home gym also intensified and became more frequent as I no longer had days where I was too hungover to get off my arse to lift weights. I felt as though I was more focused on achieving targets I set myself. As a result of all this, I feel as fit as a fiddle.

Furthermore, my bowel pains and headaches also disappeared and I no longer got heart palpitations. Additionally, my bank account suffered a lot less although it was brought back to its knees last night at the pub.

So have I have changed after this one month self-denial of alcohol? Well, a complete transformation is out of the question. Alcohol will always form the core of my social life. However I will endeavour to make changes to the way I approach it. Restraining myself from drinking it by myself when I’m sat in front of the television or computer. Spending a more sensible amount on nights out and aiming to not to get as ludicrously intoxicated as I have done in the past, and instead, focusing on trying to speak to people more sensibly.

To say I cannot live without alcohol would be a pathetic statement to make. However, the enjoyment that I have experienced whilst under its spell has been memorable and I foresee many more years of drinking, although less frequently and more perhaps more prudently, to come.