“I’m a dirty great big Five Nations fan”
So… what do we know about the Five Nations?
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dickhead in quicksand
In the 1920s, the French had the reputation of being a load of dirty bastards. A referee sent one of them off for some egregiously violent act. He rescinded his decision at the request of the visiting English captain, the home crowd applauding this sporting gesture.
The Frenchman didn’t finish the game.
27 November 2014
EXXO
My old headmaster was that rare breed of national hero, the grand slam wining captain. Those who gave the prizes at school speech days spoke of his heroism on the rugby pitch and in the war.
He and all the other bastard rugby teachers were sadistic, stupid retards, always thicker than the lads they tried to beat the fear of their fictional ‘god’ into. Turned a blind eye to more serious abuse by other teachers too. The rugby ones were scum. Everybody else was OK.
Not letting us play football in 1970’s Birkenhead though was their greatest crime.
All of these impressions of rugby people were confirmed when I went to college. Twat of a culture.
27 November 2014
peter mcornithologist
I concur entirely Exxo. When I recall anyone who was a rugby person,I think of a large,loud and alien individual.
27 November 2014
Chris The Siteowner
You can have it both ways, Exxo. I can honestly say that if there’s a section of my brain labelled “the very worst memories of my life”, playing rugby at school fills up most of it. I shiver just thinking of it. And yes, the rugby master, the standard sadistic bastard, simply despised anyone like me who hated wasting their afternoons standing around freezing to death while trying to avoid the ball.
They say that smell is one of the strongest ways of accessing long filed-away memories, and even now, the smell of mud and turf in the winter fills me with dread.
But boy, am I a dirty great big Five/Six Nations fan. “Twat of a culture”? Give me the Six Nations rugby crowd at our local any day over the idiots who turn up for the footy internationals. (I’ve also shelled out an absurd amount of money for tickets to a World Cup quarter final next year, where I thoroughly intend to leave my Barbour in the car park). Football, rugby, who cares? If it’s got a score, I’ll watch it.
27 November 2014
Bobby SVARC
LCFC fans hate the Tiggers followers with a passion, none of the bastards live remotely near the City, Egg chasing, arse biting twats. TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-GERS, That’s the only song they know.
27 November 2014
EXXo
I suppose it’s the culture of ‘power’ that I was referring to. Towered over by thick psychos who were employed only because of this sport, calling you names because you were small. Irony is, I was one of the fiercest little tacklers they had but I soon refused to do it any more. 35 years ago this week I was last in that headmaster’s study and I remember it like it was last week.
Then the ‘class’ power. They told us we were glad we didn’t play football, so our posh school teams would not get kicked all over the Wirral by the plebs who played football.
Then just the ‘Old Boy’ network. Become a solicitor or an accountant and play for the ‘Old Birks’ and keep in the club with all the powerful people. Yeah right.
Of course football crowds can be lowest-common-denominator xenophobic morons, but whatever was the ‘people’s sport’ would attract that whether it was ten-pin bowling or paintball.
Anyway it’s a good job I’ve put all that behind and am not bitter and there’s no way that was me who ploughed up the rugby pitch in Oxton and painted the changies with the slogan about Gw****am last weekend. Oh no not me.
27 November 2014
EXXo
Blimey, just seen he’s still alive at 91. And it turns out he’s the reason West Ham’s Jack Collison plays football for Wales. Think I’d better email Chris for some redactions
Exxo (still more terrified than bitter).
27 November 2014
EXXo
Ipswich’s Jack Collison even. Small world.
27 November 2014
Bobby SVARC
The trouble is Modern Football Is Rubbish.
27 November 2014
Gerry Gow
As it turns out, I was at the same school as Exxo. I too loathed the head for forcing rugby on everyone (and much, much more). It transpired that I was quite a good rugby player. At least, I probably played it to a higher standard than I ever would have done football.Some of the better players that I played with were highly dedicated athletes who couldn’t be further from the stereotypical rugby aficionado.The problem is that the overwhelming image is one of boorish, misogynistic morons. The quiet, thoughtful, kind rugby fans don’t make a fuss. They’ve embraced the margins as it were.
27 November 2014
Bananayogi
My school was also a rugby playing school unfortunately. However I was quite a quick runner in those days so was put on the wing. I soon perfected the art of either accelerating or slowing down so that any pass lobbed at me if there was anyone thundering towards me went either slightly behind or in front or me – and I would turn to the poor bloke who’d passed it to me with an accusing stare. If there was a bit of room, I’d gather the pass and make a diagonal bee-line for touch, gaining ground but just avoiding the mud-splattered ogres on their way. If all else failed I’d just throw the ball at (sorry, ‘pass to’) someone else.
Still can’t stand the game, and all that bollocks abut it being ‘a thugs game played by gentlemen’. Nope. It’s a thugs game played by biting, eye-gouging, punching, blood-injury faking thugs.
27 November 2014
Peter Gandy
And of course anyone with the temerity to play rugby league, even at an amateur level, was banned from playing union as they had professionalised themselves. Five nations players on the other hand, received wedges of notes stuck into their boots, and benefited from the old boy network by getting jobs in the city.
A game of kick and clap for rah rahs or, as I read recently, catching practice for fat joggers.
27 November 2014
EXXo
Small world Gerry G.
Nigel B. once told me his mum made him take the entrance exam but he didn’t exactly give it his best. He’d probably heard about the rugby. And the headmaster. And the stupid caps for the first 2 years. And the Saturday school.
Saturday. Fucking. School.
27 November 2014
peter mcornithologist
Five Nations is arguably one of Kiplings lesser known works.Finds him at his imperialistic best/worst.
27 November 2014
schoon
I did not like rugby at school either. There seems to be a correlation here. The only 5 nations game I went to was Wales v England in 1987 when Dooley broke Davies’ cheekbone. I think Wales won 8-7.
27 November 2014
schoon
That 8-7 score really stuck in my mind and is completely wrong.
27 November 2014
peter mcornithologist
@ Bobby Svarc.You are right mate.Obviously your victory over Man Utd was enthralling but how often have seen a game lately and thought Wow that was great? I remember switching off several games from the last World Cup. Semi between Argentina and Netherlands.Purgatory.
27 November 2014
Bobby SVARC
@PeterMac, It’s the “Match Atmosphere Experience” that gets my back up, In my day we made our own atmosphere we didn’t need any prompting especially music played after we score!! wtf is that all about? football as I knew it has long gone, £45 fookin quid for a ticket for the Villa game next month, and it’s it’s on the bloody telly as well.
27 November 2014
gerry gow
@Exxo. Funnily enough I planned to fail it too, but my sickening enthusiasm got the better of me.
The only time I bunked off was on a Saturday when they’d arranged some athletics competition on FA Cup final day. No way was I missing the full TV experience of sitting indoors with the curtains drawn against the May sun for that.
Stupid caps. Stupid Saturday school. Never inflicting that nonsense on my kids!
27 November 2014
Russell dean
‘sport, sport, masculine sport, prepares a young man for society…it’s an odd boy that doesn’t like sport’
3 December 2014
EXXO
Hate that sport so bad but occasionally it has its moments. All those management consultants and investment bankers in Twickenham Car Park, we’re really feeling your pain tonight 🙂
26 September 2015
Bobby SVARC
Them Tigers lot are a rare bunch, horrible people.
27 September 2015