News that a football stadium has gone vegetarian is never going to do the game’s already tarnshed image much good. We get the feeling there soon will be a day when grizzled old pundits will be more likely to remark, cor, nice arse about the Ref rather than his comely female assistant.
Football ued to be a man’s game,there was a kind of poetry involved in the play of Tom Finney, Johhny Haynes, George Best and the other greats but it was the poetry of beer and sweat and linement. Lines are being crossed all the time nowadays and I’m not talking just about offside rules and corner kicks. There are certain traditions in the game that simply should not be tampered with for fear of making the beautiful game into some metrosexual travesty.
Pies are one.
The buzz over the last couple of days has not been about shapely legs but lentils. The chairperson of Forest Green FC has banned red meat from his team’s stadium. Players are not allowed to eat red meat any more, not just on match days but ever. We guess a nice roast is out of the question for the Forest Green lads now too as is a bit of quail but for different reasons perhaps. And for spectators, meat pies and hot dogs are out. Vegetarian snacks will be provided at half time instead. I suppose they’ll be seving Camomile Tea instead of Bovril too and sales of lager and bitter in pubs near the ground will be overtaken by Chardonnay spritzers.
I think it’s time for Boggart Blog to come overall Daily Mail reader and predict, THIS IS THE END OF CIVILISATION AS WE KNOW IT.
Former MP and cat impersonator George Galloway latched on to this story last night. (I do not listen to wee Georgie’s show directly but the insomniac in Mrs. T. does like to relay radio chat to me on nights when she has had a few drinks) Even the most fervent Galloway hater would have felt a tad emotional when the Scot waxed lyrical telling how as a boy watching his local team, the long defunct Turd Lanark or somebody, his idea of heaven was to stand on the windswept terraces eating a meat pie and drinking a cup of hot Bovril at half time.
A bean burger or a lentil somosa is just never going to be the same. Football is about passion and pies and you can’t have one without the other.
I blame Manchester United’s prawn sandwiches for starting the rot.