What is the point of regretting anything? What’s done is done, get over it and get on with it!
Wouldn’t I just make the world’s greatest Agony Uncle? I should have a column in one of the national papers. “Dear Danny…”
Where was I? Oh yeah – regrets. Seriously though regrets do nothing but hold you back, tie you down, torture you to the point of submission. If only I’d… Well you didn’t so you can now do one of two things: 1) Do it now, this minute, whatever it was; or if you can’t, if it is absolutely no longer a possibility then 2) stop whining about it about and move on. Do something else that will give you purpose, make your life fulfilled and will MAKE YOU HAPPY!!!!
Of course there are things in my past that maybe I should have walked away from, some I should have headed towards, but the grass might not have been all that green if I had vaulted the fence anyway. Regrets are like an old overcoat that is way too heavy and cumbersome – throw it off folks, it’s summertime! Hooray!
The comedian Sean Locke put it best when asked if he had any regrets in his life, he replied “I’m not too happy with the hall carpet.”
I am, and have been for many years, part of a community that has been much maligned and discriminated against. A community without a voice, with no way of answering critics because the government, the police and the mainstream press have demonised us to the point we are universally hated.
I am a football fan.
I know what you’re thinking: Breslin is just being stupid. A hetro white British male claiming to be discriminated against? He doesn’t know what he’s talking about! And yet…
I have been spat on. Assaulted. I have had various objects thrown at me including coins, bottles and even an apple. I have received a face full of CS gas. That was from fans of various different teams. I have been punched in the face, kicked, pushed around, sworn at, threatened, jostled, filmed, followed, been put in stress positions, had my wrists bent so bad that I was in pain for weeks and caged by thugs in uniform who give the police a bad name. This was not because I was breaking any laws or indulging in any form of hooligan activity; this was because I was following my team.
I am called scum in the media. I have laws passed especially to “crack down” on me.
Things have improved over the past few years, I must admit, and that might be down to the fact that the CCTV meant to be watching us is also watching them. In the media being a football fan is becoming respectable, with my team being supported by a prince and a prime minister (not that I consider either position overly respectable).
I’ll now turn to the incident on the Paris Metro which has caused a furore in the world’s press. I would like to think that the Chelsea fans weren’t letting the black guy on the train because the carriage was full and they suggested he find another. I would like to think they were pushing him away because he was being a dickhead about it. Please note: 1) I am neither black or Chelsea so I am a neutral observer, and 2) being a dickhead knows no national or racial boundaries – I have seen the bloke interviewed and he seems a right dickhead to me, but that’s just an opinion.
I would also like to think that the song they came out with: “We’re racist, we’re racist and that’s the way we like it…” etc was sung in irony. As in they weren’t being racist but knew that’s how it would appear and were singing about it in jest – despite this particular jest being not very funny – I understand irony, I’m a football fan.
I would like to think that the above scenario was the true one and not the horrible one described by the foaming at the mouth plastic journalists who covered it with such relish. If I’m wrong, and they really wouldn’t let him on the train because he was black, then I’d just like to say to them thanks lads, you’ve just set back our fight against the discrimination of the football fan by 20 years and made us all look like dickheads!
Leaked cables show Netanyahu’s Iran bomb claim contradicted by Mossad
When I was young I used to play music in my bedroom and my dad, may God rest his soul (or at least have mercy on it), would shout up the stairs “What is that bloody noise?” I’ve toned it down for this is a family blog after all.
I’d get a lecture: real music isn’t made any more…none of them can sing…in my day I listened to…dread to think what effect it has on your brain…Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole- now those boys could sing…not even sure you’re my child etc.
Fast forward to the modern era and I’m sitting in the barber’s waiting to get my hair cut. On the radio there is a sound that makes me think they have it set between stations and are picking up static. At the end of this virtuoso performance the breathless woman, responsible for playing this offence to the eardrums, comes on and expects the listening audience including all of us in the barber’s waiting room to agree with her when she enthuses “Wasn’t that absolutely amazing?”
Despite the fact that the room is packed with strangers, I find myself shouting out an involuntary “NO!” All eyes turn to me. I shrug and say “Well come on…what is that bloody noise?”
We lost again last night. AGAIN!!!!!
It hurts to see my beloved Aston Villa, the lions of the Midlands, tamely roll over and have their bellies tickled once again. Lions? Pah,.. kittens!
I’m not going to go over the same ground as the footy bloggers. Except to say our manager is so far out of his depth he might as well be swimming in the Mariana Trench. Our players are not interested in playing for him. Our CEO is spouting cobblers about a long term strategy and our owner has stopped giving a toss. The same day the £5.1 BILLION TV deal is announced we underline our intentions to be competing (if the idea of us competing is not too far-fetched) in the lower leagues from next season on.
The point of this post is this: as football fans we love our team more than our significant other. We must do, it’s undeniable. If I was treated with the same contempt by my missus my bags would be packed and I’d be last seen disappearing over the horizon. I am in a dead-end relationship with my football club and the pain is set to continue because whatever happens, whatever suffering and humiliation they subject me to, I will always stick by my club. The idea of changing allegiance is not one that any fan worth his salt would entertain. I’d rather stick a shooter in my mouth and end it now.
Oh there have been good times: memories I will treasure of being Champions of England, all-conquering Champions of Europe, two league cups…tears of joy running freely down my once rosy cheeks; tears now dried up on my drawn and tired face.
Please, do feel free to hit the comments button and mock me, you won’t cause me to feel any more miserable than I do already.
I’ve always sung “Villa til I die” and, in spite of it all, I always will. UTV
Originally posted on Our World Commentary:
Territories occupied by France in various centuries. Map by: Kayac1971 I’m a creator of historical maps. [This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.]
According to Wikipedia,
In the 19th century, France established a new empire in Africa and Southeast Asia. In this period France’s conquest of an Empire in Africa was dressed up as a moral crusade. In 1886 Jules Ferry declared; “The higher races have a right over the lower races, they have a duty to civilize the inferior races.” Full citizenship rights – assimilation – were offered, although in reality “assimilation was always receding [and] the colonial populations treated like subjects not citizens.” 
The same attitude that Europeans in general had towards other races at the time. France wound up with control of most of West Africa.
Following the First World War, and even more so after the Second World…
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