A football fan's rant

Landed in my inbox at work and helped brighten up a busy Friday afternoon. Apologies if it's been posted already

A post from a QPR message board.


I take more pleasure in seeing Chelsea lose than I do in seeing QPR win
at the moment.

I sat through so many matches when we were absolute dogs**t under the
likes of Ray Harford and with people like Paul Bruce, Matthew Brazier
and Mark Perry in the squad and I never felt like this.

The club isn't ours anymore but moreso than that - football is just
properly gash these days.

I mean really gash.

football generally.

I hate nearly everything about it these days....

I hate the Prem and the myth that it is exciting this year. Man City
breaking into the top four isn't exciting. They spent loads of money.
It's no more exciting that Nameless C*** getting to number 1 in the
charts after winning the X-Factor.

I hate the myth of Arsene's kids. Buying some French kid when he's 17,
playing him in the League Cup and then selling him when he's 20 after
about 3 appearances in the league is NOTHING SPECIAL.

I hate hearing about Liverpool/Man Utd's debt but nothing ever happening
about it. A club needs to go to the wall for the money thing to change
but it doesn't happen. Why the **** are Charlton, Leeds and Southampton
still in business?

I hate Frank Lampard's stupid f'ing face. I hate that Joe Cole's tongue
is never in his mouth, the downsy spacker. I hate John Terry being
England captain when he's CLEARLY AN OAF.

I hate the England team.

I hate young exciting wingers who have nothing but pace. Tony Scully had
nothing but pace.

I hate the FA Cup. There may be little shocks like last night but for
the most part you know who's going to win it. Unless a team throws away
all their financial security to win it a la Pompey.

I hate Harry f'ing Redknapp. And Jamie Redknapp. And Louise Redknapp.
And the Wii.

I hate James Nesbitt, Eammon Holmes and f***ing everyone.

I hate Gary Lineker and Alan Shearer.

I hate Garth Crooks.

I hate Garth Brooks for that matter.

I hate Sky Sports.

I hate that when a lower league player beats 10 players and chips the
keeper it doesn't matter but if Rooney scores from more than 20 yards
it's amazing.

I hate that everything football related has to have 'Club Foot' playing
behind it.

I hate that female sports journos are now mandatory.

I hate Mark Lawrensen for not coming out. 'I do like a big man at the
back'. I bet you do.

I hate any advert that portrays football to be about anything other than
pain and disappointment.

I hate any advert that mentions pies at football.

I hate Lee Hughes and the fact that he makes a living from the game. I
hate Marlon King and any team that signs him when he gets out. I hate
that it'll probably be us.

I hate Phil Brown.

I hate 'well the ball is a lot lighter now and will cause goalkeepers
real problems this summer' before EVERY F'ING TOURNAMENT.

I hate that Kieron Dyer earned more in the time I took to write this
post than I'll earn this month.

I hate Adrian Durham, Ian Wright and Alan Brazil.

I hate Gazza. Either die or shut up. Stop f'ing lingering.

I hate hearing about Hillsborough more than I hear about Heysel or
Bradford.

I hate that a comeback from 4-0 down at half time (TWICE) means nothing
because we aren't f'ing scouse.

I hate Leeds.

I hate Roy Keane.

I hate grown men wearing football shirts of their team whilst shopping
on a saturday when their team is playing at home.

I hate that I don't hate Roy Hodgson.

I hate Jermaine Beckford and any player who has neck tattoos.

I hate songs being inappropriately taken as club anthems and then sung
in a manly way. 'I'm forever blowing bubbles....'. Gaylords.

I hate Danny Dyer and anyone he's ever interviewed.

I hate the book 'Cass' by Cass Pennant. It is honestly the stupidest
thing I've ever read. Chapter 1: Millwall. 'Yeah we took 50 to Millwall.
They had 1000 in their mob but we ran 'em up and down the street'.
Chapter 2: Liverpool. 'Yeah we took 50 to Liverpool. They had 2000 in
their mob but we ran 'em up and down the street'. Fk me... Jade Goody's
autobiography is probably better. Even her non-ghost written one.

I hate that all good youngsters end their careers at Spurs before they
start.

I hate that when a lower league player beats 10 players and chips the
keeper it doesn't matter but if Rooney scores from more than 20 yards
it's amazing.

The last MOTD goal of the month competition was just a collection of punts from long range. The way we worship long range shots in this country is pathetic.

Saw it a few days ago, love the Rednkapp bit

I hate Leeds.

I hope you die from an ulcer, you pathetic, whining, bitter twat

I hate Mark Lawrensen for not coming out. 'I do like a big man at the back'. I bet you do.

Now I’m as optimistic as anyone when it comes to this twát of a football club, but after this afternoon’s latest capitulation it’s time to wake up and smell the coffee – we’re fúcked. Down. Goners. Non-league. To be honest I didn’t know how it would affect me, it’s not like it hasn’t been coming, but tonight I just feel absolutely deflated. Absolutely fúcking devastated.

I can’t get away from these emotions, I just want the whole world to just fúck off and leave me alone. To help me come to terms with this whole mess, I’ve decided to compile a list of everyone and everything I want to fúck off most of all.

For starters, work can fúck off. If they think I’m going to be there on Monday morning they’ve got another thing coming. No way am I going in to spend time dealing with cúnts that I can barely stand being with when I’m in a good mood, let alone this crushing feeling of anger, frustration and outright metaphorical-kicked-in-the-bóllocks-ness.

Plastic Premier League fans can fúck off. I just spoke to my Manchester United supporting neighbour (who incidentally, has been to Old Trafford before – twice) about Town’s predicament. You know what he said? “I know how you feel; it’s like when we failed to win a trophy in ‘95”. NO IT FÚCKING WELL IS NOT ( Sounds familar )

He no longer has a face.

The girlfriend can definitely fúck off. Her best attempt at consolation – “I don’t know why you’re bothered; you knew they were shít anyway”. Yes love, but they’re MY shít team. They’ve been MINE for pretty much as long as I’ve been able to wipe my own árse, and they’ll be MINE for as long as I’m alive (or at least, until I’m no longer able to wipe my own árse). Truth is, watching my team win does things for me that no woman can. If push comes to shove and I’m horny, I can always have a wánk.

Barrow can fúck off. I’ve been all over the country and beyond to watch my team, but frankly I just don’t have the stomach to visit any town which makes Scunthorpe look like fúcking St. Tropez.

*Dad, you can fúck off. This is your fault. Your idea. You introduced me to this shower of shít. “Come with me to Blundell Park”, you said, “Come and support the boys”. What could I do? I was fúcking four, what choice did I have? Why not get me hooked on Heroin whilst you were at it? I could have gone with mum shopping for bras and knickers at British Home Stores, but no, you knew best

Granted, I’d have probably grown up a homosexual but surely even being simultaneously búggered two guys named Seth and Quentin couldn’t hurt like this.

Seeing as we’re on the subject of homosexuality, Gok Wan can fúck off. No particular reason, I just plain don’t like the annoying, goggle-eyed cúnt. *

The F.A. can fúck off. Not for supplying us, week-in, week- out, with inept referee after inept referee, but for imposing sensible financial rules on all clubs in League Two. How many clubs in this division have been into administration this season? Not one. How many points deducted? Not one. How the fúck else are we supposed to avoid relegation – footballing merit? We didn’t have to last season, so why spoil the fun now?

The World Cup can fúck off – I don’t care anymore.

My local pizza shop can fúck off. I ordered a 12” Pepperoni over an hour ago, and where the fúck is it? Are they trying to fúcking fly it to me or something?

Sky Sports can fúck off. Nothing personal, but there’ll be little need for me next season with no Town to be found anywhere. Ooh, Bolton versus Wolves, LIVE. I think I’ll pass...

The radio can fúck off. On my way home from the match, whilst driving down the M180, I caught three completely separate stations playing ‘Down’ by Jay Sean at the exact same fúcking time. The song’s the best part of a year old, how the fúck does that happen by coincidence!?

My nan’s old lucky Buddha that used to sit in her front room can fúck off. When I was a kid I held it in my hands and wished for Town to be in the Premier League. I meant the proper one you fat cúnt, not the one occupied by Histon, Eastbourne and for fúck’s sake, Ebbsfleet, wherever that is.

Tonight can fúck off. I’ve had enough of trying to cope with my emotions; the time has come for oblivion. I haven’t kept any booze in the house since an occasion known only as ‘That Night’ by myself and the missus, but suffice to say that the toilet duck and luminous blue mouthwash are looking like stronger propositions by the minute.

Most of all though, the last 10 years can fúck off. In that time I’ve watched my team fall from the top of the Championship into non-league nothingness. We’ve gone from one great big fúck up to the next without even coming up for air, and today is just the big, fúck off cherry on top.

One thing I’m sure of though is that we WILL be back. When it comes down to it, a football club is basically just a set of supporters, and frankly what I’ve learned in the last few years is that this one has some of the best. We’ve had to put up with some shít, haven’t we boys, but in spite of all of that the future is still bright – it’s fúcking black and white.

Grimsby ‘til I die...

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Epic. So many funny quotes in that.

And I thought supporting Cambridge was bad