A Word On the Faux Patriotism Engendered by Sporting Events

I wonder how many pretend Brits will be celebrating our rugby team reaching the final of the World Cup? How many rich Remain b*stards will be quaffing champagne and booking corporate seating for the final? How many will be the same types who celebrated the cricket team winning the World Cup?

Because it’s easy to be ‘patriotic’ when all it takes is spending some of your cash and enjoying yourself. Sport makes patriotism easy. It’s fun, it’s a day out, it’s a client entertainment budget or a company box or a f*cking schmoozing session for the rich and bored. It’s eating £20 strawberries at Wimbledon and barely knowing who is playing.

But to my mind, if you vote Remain, if you want your countrymen and women ruled from abroad against their will, if you hate our history, our working class, our independence, our uniqueness, then you don’t f*cking deserve the fun days. You have no part in our sporting triumphs, because when it really counts, when it really matters, you are always on the other side.

You can’t p*ss on the flag and then wrap yourself in it without the rest of us knowing that you stink. You are a pretend patriot, like that grotesque traitorous ghoul May and that exhumed mindless corpse Major. You can gurn and clap as much as you like but you haven’t the faintest inkling of what loving your country and wanting it to succeed really means. You are worthless, and so is your fake support when it’s just a game at stake.