Sweet FA

Whilst someone once said that ‘Football is not life and death – it means a lot more than that’ - another opined that ‘Football is a civilised form of war, played by over paid arseholes and watched by under-educated idiots’. Never having been a fan of badly-dressed-bubble-permed chavs kicking a pigs bladder about, I have to say that my interest in football has usually been limited to the brief seconds of sports news I catch before diving across the room for the remote control. I have usually put this down to two things…

…. One, I just don’t get it. There are far better things to do in life than either watch or play football – and none of them involve pundits.

…. Two, I come from Cardiff and frankly in my formative years the Bluebirds were shit. I always that thought to support a team from a different place in the country was basically cheating – I had never been to Manchester so why would I support them? To this day, however many boring dullards have tried to ‘educate’ me on this point, they have never been able to convince that supporting a team just because they have the most money and are at the top of the league, is a particularly sporting thing to do.

So…..it comes as a bit of shocker to see Cardiff City charging toward the FA Cup Final, and even more of a shocker to feel a bit of Celtic pride coursing through these old veins.
As a kid (the last time I had any interest in Football) the FA Cup was a huge deal, and by extension so was the FA Cup song – Who can forget the toe-curling Ossie’s Dream, or the jaw-dropping ineptitude of Anfield Rap? And although the peculiar class-segregation of the Premier League has taken a top layer of shine from the Cup, it still fills me with a peculiar pride to see the old town heading towards Wembley.
So to make a long ramble short, for the first time in many, many years, this Saturday, I will actually be sitting down to watch a football match! Not only that I will actually be giving a shit as to who wins. I’m warming up the perming lotion as we speak…

Of course when Cardiff win there will be only one place to celebrate…Club Pure, where BC take on No Sleep Police in a beat to beat battle of attrition. Oh yes indeed, Cardiff on Saturday night will not only be filled with drunken mayhem but also precision beats of the sublime kind. Along with all the live hippity hoppity of NSP and the electro based groviness of BC, there is a fandabi-dozi line-up of DJ’s including the legendary Grooveslave! You’ve never ‘ad it so good I tells ya!

I leave you today with a few BC endorsed chants to help along the good-natured sportsmanship inherent in all Welshmen, and make sure the game doesn’t descend into some kind of sordid punch-up…

“Your mother is a fat bitch, maybe se should try a macro-biotic diet, I’ve heard they are very good.”

“The ref’s a wanker, but that’s probably because his wife has recently left him and he needs someone to talk to.”

“You’re going home in a fucking ambulance, but that’s only because you’re an ambulance driver and in no way means I have any intention of using threatening behaviour against you.”

Bomb Culture – Portsmouth, you is going down, Bra.