I am a social outcast.
I don’t watch football.
I don’t watch Big Brother either so to get me thorough the World Cup I have lined up a good selection of DVDs – I bought Spooks series 1-7 and haven’t got round to them yet. I also want to rewatch Life on Mars in light of the ending to Ashes to Ashes and I don’t need much of an excuse to re-wallow in both series of Rome (wude wome… as it is properly known among my friends). There’s an ongoing debate among the female contingent about the main reason to watch Rome – it’s pretty much even Stevens between the male leads but my heart (and other body parts…) will always belong to Pullo.
Anyway I digress… It’s not that I’m anti-sport. I get up in the early hours to watch F1 from far flung parts and I watch tennis (and not just Wimbledon). What really annoys me about football and especially the World Cup is the assumption that we are all completely fascinated. Not everyone is. I’m not.
It’s everywhere – flags on cars, hanging out of windows, iced on cup cakes (how very macho!) and on sportswear sported by the least sporty. Every shop, however unlikely is selling World Cup and/or Ingerlund merchandise. I’m being charitable by calling it merchandise, I have never seen so much nylon – my hair stands on end from the static when I drive past Asda. World Cup knickers anyone? Even reading the newspaper is an excercise in avoidance – pull outs, wraparounds, supplements, posters and wallcharts – where’s the NEWS??
The TV channels offering a World Cup alternative are no better. Oh look – lots of lovely programmes about fluffy kittens with a side order of how to embroider a tray cloth! Oh – and a Jane Austen. For the erudite there’s a whole weekend of lady detectives (I quote) – after all it’s years since anyone showed Murder She Wrote isn’t it?
Maybe I exaggerate just a touch – I do have lots of other hobbies and contrary to popular belief don’t spend my whole life in front of the TV – honest – so I’m sure I’ll survive a month of football obsession.
Join me in the bunker anyone?