Football’s Harry Potter

Adults that like Harry Potter books and discuss them as if they’re intellectual literature are akin to football fans who go out on the pull wearing their favorite teams jersey.

I feel sorry for American women in a bar on a Saturday night, who are approached by a group of guys wearing Villa and Liverpool jerseys, all coked-up, drunk, and flying.

The lads have been watching football since 10 am on a Saturday. It’s now 10 pm. They stink of of booze and coke. They’re loud and obnoxious. The game between Villa and Liverpool is irrelevant now. It finished 10 hours ago. Since then, lines have been snorted and shots downed. Someone mentioned a strip club, but there was no guarantee that they would get in wearing their favorite teams colors.

So here they are, with a tray full of shots asking a couple of women if they want to join them. They use their charm. They play their English card. One guy, the joker of the pack, makes them laugh by talking loud, making fun of himself and using English slang that they don’t understand.

He loves it when they ask him what a “geezer” means?

“Geezer” is a London word, but this clown is from Birmingham. He’s now acting the London fraud, but no-one is going to question him. His followers are losers from small towns in England who have somehow landed a plum job in Manhattan fixing computer systems. They grow long hair but never wash it or style it and look like the cunt out of the film The Big Lebowski.

If they’re not talking about breaking into the top four, the weakness of Arsenal, scoring coke, or getting another round in, then they’re talking about visas and green cards.

But when women are on the scene, there are those that stay in the background and those that come to the front offering shots and coke breath. Staying in the background is the corporate lawyer who hates Wenger and loves Liverpool more than the Pope loves Catholicism. Hanging out with “the lads” makes him feel like a thug. A thug that never fights but one who tells the TV screen to fuck off when the ref makes a bad decision. He then joins in the chants (even though he doesn’t know all of the lyrics) about how Wenger is a paedophile and flicks off the TV screen whenever he sees Cesc, knowing that he’s safe because he’s in a bar inhabited only by Liverpool fans.

He’s hard.

During the week he’s on various internet message boards, telling other fans that Carragher is too old or that Arshavin is a Russian homo. He gets all of his info on these message boards. Like the real opinion from the fans back in England. This special info he regurgitates on a Saturday after his first line and his second pint. It gives him kudos.

Most of the time these cretins are too smashed to know what went on in the game but they will tell you that Eboue is shit and that Rosicky is finished. To them, life is about three points, a six figure job, getting high, and getting smashed. Football is just the excuse to get smashed for.

In 10 months we have the World Cup. It will be painful. You will have men from Singapore who will support England. Why? Because Stevie G plays for England and is the captain of their team Liverpool. It’s not just Singapore though. I know guys from India and Israel who will support England and drink with coke heads like The Big Lebowski or the “Geezer from Birmingham.” All of them living with a false identity

Harry Potter books are fiction.

So is the football culture of these frauds.

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