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How Trash Media is Giving an Undeserved Platform to the Clueless End of the Leeds Support – by Rob Atkinson

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The Leeds United purveyor of clueless rubbish – now with own media platform

One of the worst things about any Leeds United defeat is venturing on to social media afterwards and having your senses bombarded by the witless comments of the knowledge-free element of Leeds United’s online support – those armchair experts who are suddenly sure that they know far better than Marcelo Bielsa and that, into the bargain, they are somehow equipped to do a far better job, be it in player recruitment, tactics, selection or coaching. The easy thing to do, of course, is laugh at such brainless rubbish, as well as at the overgrown spoilt children who spout it. But the time after a chastening defeat is a raw and uncomfortable interlude – perhaps it’s better to stay away from Twitter, Facebook and the other mouthpieces of the terminally idiotic, and concentrate on more informed sources instead.

Sadly, though, even that course is not free from its irritant factor. Because, over the past year or so, it’s been noticeable just how many of these “news sources” seem to consist largely of websites that spend far too much time trawling the gutter section of social media, and recycling the arrant nonsense to be found there as some sort of reportage. So, you get headlines like:

‘TERRIBLE TODAY’ – THESE LEEDS UNITED FANS WERE FAR FROM IMPRESSED WITH MIDFIELDER IN WEEKEND LOSS

or:

”ALWAYS BOTTLE IT IN THE BIG GAMES” – LEEDS UNITED FANS CRITICISE UNDERPERFORMING STARS AFTER STUNNING DEFEAT

Rubbish like that will always get the clicks, of course, which has to be the sole reason for quoting such uninformed, nay, brainless sources in the first place. But it’s all so dismally disappointing, and moreover it’s incredibly depressing that so many so-called fans will provide such material in the first place, when their first and only function is to support the team. The point is that, before the advent of social media, the ramblings of such ignoramus fans would only bother those unlucky enough to live with them, or perhaps share a public bar with them in those difficult early post-defeat hours. But now, everyone can tell the world their idiot opinions and, as if that were not bad enough, there’s some eager hack ready to take such bletherings down, for quotation and recycling as “news”. That’s such a crock, I can hardly bear to write about it. As if it’s not bad enough having that IQ deficient has-been Robbie Savage foisted upon us. At least he once played the game, or at least his own version of it.

I exempt Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything, of course, from these very salient and all too relevant remarks, along with various other highly reputable Leeds United blogs, and even some from other clubs too. The problem that I’m targeting – and I’m entirely sincere about this – is the consequence of the knee-jerk reaction merchant, who simply goes onto Twitter or Facebook to vent some spleen, with no thought or intention of being taken seriously as news – and who then finds him or herself quoted as some sort of authority, even when they’re calling a respected footballer some childish name, or otherwise making solid gold asses of themselves. You’re always going to get that, sadly – the real guilty parties are those who lazily reap these worthless comments wholesale and retail them piecemeal, simply as clickbait. It’s deeply annoying – and God only knows what the professionals must make of it. The fact of the matter is that what some herbert in Bramley thinks is not news – but it’s being presented as such by cynical opportunists, along with the collective lack of wisdom of the dimmer end of Leeds United’s (or any club’s, for that matter) support.

It appears, though, that trash media will be with us for as long as there are enough clueless so-called “fans” to spout their rubbish into the ether – and that’s likely to be forever, as we live in the age of instant and unconsidered opinion. It’s almost enough to make you miss the days when the worst problem of this sort were the sad little legion of pub bores. At least, with them, at the cost of a pint of perfectly good ale, you could if you so chose empty your glass over their thick heads and douse the problem that way. Maybe some virtual equivalent of that drastic option would be a useful next step for those who seek to improve the Internet and online news experience.

I’m honestly not putting the knock on thousands of football fans out there with perfectly valid views – it’s just that those fans seem to be both in the minority and ignored by the said trash media, who only want the laughably extreme views – because that’s what gets the clicks. Every now and again, you get somebody sensible being quoted, or maybe a knowledgeable ex-pro – but it’s becoming rarer, because so many “news sources”, the online equivalents of the Sun or Daily Sport, choose this easy, lazy option of scraping the social media barrel and giving a voice to those who would, quite frankly, be better off with laryngitis.

Let these opportunist websites do a bit of honest work, for a change, and switch to seeking quotes from the clued-up and not the clueless. And let the rentagob “fans”, who seem to think they know better than a world-renowned coach like Bielsa, stick to the pub where they belong. And may they end up with those well-deserved and nobly sacrificed pints right over their empty heads.

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Football’s Best Fans Caught Between Rotten Club and Predatory Media – by Rob Atkinson

The unrivalled support - where Leeds still rule

The unrivalled support – the only area where Leeds still rule

Did you ever play piggy-in-the-middle as a child? It’s a game for three, with one in the middle, trying to intercept a ball that the other two are throwing between them. It’s fun for the two, not so much, after a while, for the one – so every now and then, if the unfortunate “piggy” doesn’t succeed in catching the ball, the players will swap around so as to share the enjoyment. That’s only fair, after all.

If you’re a Leeds fan, you might well identify with that unfortunate player in the middle. For that’s just how it feels, being trapped between the club on the one side and a voracious media on the other – both of them seemingly doing the best that they can to ensure you, as the fan caught between them, have the worst time possible. The difference between the game and this real life situation is that the poor sap trying to break out from the role of victim never actually seems to get that break. Thus, football’s best fans (by a country mile) continue to suffer as club and media pile the agony on, week after week, month after month, season after depressing season. And yet there may be some hope, as we shall see. Perhaps this darkest hour may yet herald a golden dawn.

Leeds fans are the best in the business – but they are currently caught between a rock and a hard place. On the one side, there is the bumbling incompetence and woeful lack of vision of a succession of club owners, ensuring that Leeds United are always seemingly engaged in trying to shoot themselves in the foot. How the fans would like to catch that side out, in order to have a go themselves.

And then, on the other end of the piggy-in-the-middle game, you have the assembled national media, for whom Leeds United have long been the target of choice. The media, in their various repellent forms, have been demonising and attacking Leeds for decades now – always ready to seize on yet more bad news to ram it down the throats of the hapless supporters in the middle, who had had enough way, way back – when I first took an interest as a fan. The fans would like to catch that side out too – and some are trying to make their feelings heard, little by little.

It really has been going on that long for the Fourth Estate in this country. Leeds United have been hated in print and over the airwaves for the whole time since Don Revie‘s boys climbed out of obscurity and grabbed the game by the scruff of the neck. The difference back then, of course, was that it was more a siege complex than piggy-in-the-middle. The club – back then – had far more than its share of misfortune. But, in a marked contrast to the current tragic state of affairs, it didn’t appear to be actually complicit in all the bad stuff and the suffering of the fans. The maxim for Leeds in those days was displayed proudly on the dressing-room wall, visible to terrified opposition players as they walked past in the corridor outside. “Keep Fighting”, it said – and did they ever. The press decided that this was just not on – and war was declared. It’s a war they have waged ever since, long after Leeds as a club apparently gave up the fight to resist.

Nowadays, the press are as watchful as ever for any negative news they can publish and trumpet as propaganda. There’s something virtually every day. Only this morning, some online refuge for amateur hacks is gleefully speculating that ‘the “Redfearn controversy” could force talented youngsters to leave Elland Road’ words calculated to ensure that any Leeds fan will feel that bit worse over his or her Bank Holiday cornflakes than he or she might otherwise have done. And this piece of spiteful speculation, propped up by a line from some willing rentaquote ex-player, springs from yet another in a long and depressing series of own-goals by the club, which has foolishly isolated a manager in Neil Redfearn who had been doing just fine, thank you.

So Leeds United – a club currently rotten from the top and teetering under the strain of decades of mismanagement – provides yet again the raw material for a vindictive press to launch still another salvo of propaganda and negativity. And yet again, the fans – the best and most loyal set of supporters anywhere – are caught between the two opposing forces, powerless to do anything but despair and wonder when and where it will all end.

The hope for the future, such as it is, remains vested in those amazing fans. This is a group of supporters who continue to follow the club – that famous though latterly tarnished name – the length and breadth of the country, at any antisocial hour of the day or day of the week, in their vociferous thousands, out-singing and out-shouting home support wherever they go. It’s a modern phenomenon that attracts grudging respect from rival clubs, rival fans – even areas of the press. And maybe – just maybe – those remarkable fans hold somewhere among them the hope that this still determined and pugnacious piggy-in-the-middle might yet break out, and start having a say on either side of the game.

There has long been the facility – afforded by social media and the network of blogging sites – for fans to make their voices heard against the babbling background of the popular press. So now, if this or that gutter rag comes out with something particularly stupid and vindictive, the fans’ voice can be heard, comparatively faintly perhaps, but still there – and still defiantly raised in scorn and protest. The press and other media, though remaining powerfully unaccountable for the most part, no longer have it quite all their own way – and, particularly at local level, journos and broadcasters are having to take account of that steadily more audible fan voice. It’s a vox populi process that will only continue and become more effective over time.

And now, even the club itself  – and its succession of incompetent and unscrupulous owners – may yet be vulnerable in some measure to the effect of the fans. Just this past week, seven days wherein United have managed a couple more spectacular PR own-goals, an initiative has been taking off whereby at some point a group of fans might be able collectively to purchase a stake in the club – something that could lead to supporters having a real and inalienable right to a say in exactly how Leeds United should be run.

Leeds Fans Community Benefit Society (Leeds CBS) has attracted such interest among the support that it has brought forward the date on which the fans can invest in the possibility of buying a stake in Leeds United. Any fan can now become a Leeds Fans CBS shareholder – click here to see how – with the chance of playing their part in a future, supporter-shared, ownership. It’s an initiative that has won the approval and endorsement of respected local journalist Phil Hay of the Yorkshire Evening Post – for years a principled local oasis in a national desert of Press derision where Leeds United is concerned.

The fact that Hay – a resounding voice in the Leeds United press world – writes so encouragingly about a supporters’ initiative is highly significant. There is a sense that something serious might be happening here – a possible game-changer. As Hay puts it, during an apt summary of the Leeds CBS mission, serious financial backing can only enhance the fans’ cause – in other words, money talks, and the more of it there is, the louder that voice. The prospect of serious money, contributed by fans in support of a fans’ initiative, could now be the difference between more well-intentioned rhetoric and a real chance of a real say in the future running of the club we all still love – warts and all. And that could put us in on the ground floor of fan ownership in this country if, as some believe, it’s the way forward in a future that sees the corporate bubble finally burst.

For Leeds United and its amazing support, it’s been piggy-in-the-middle now for far too long, and the fans are sick of being trapped between two opposing yet equally malign forces, impotent – up to now – to do anything that might break the cycle. But it may be that this powerlessness – this feeling of just having to sit back and suffer – could finally have an end in sight. If the fans can have their voices raised against an uncaring and vindictive national media on the one hand – and if they can contribute their own hard-earned cash towards improving the running of the club itself on the other – then there might just be some light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. And – you never know – this time it might NOT be an onrushing locomotive bent on dashing all of our hopes and wishes. You never know.

Between us, the sayers and the doers might just have the means whereby that helpless piggy-in-the-middle – represented by the finest supporters anywhere – finally breaks out and has its long-awaited day in the sun.

“Travel Man” in Barcelona: Channel 4 Sacrifices a Great Idea on the Altar of Cheap Laughs

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Ayoade and his self-adoring comedy face


Barcelona
is a city I love and have visited frequently, my passion for the place surviving even my witnessing of a 4-0 massacre suffered by my beloved Leeds United. This explains the enthusiasm I felt for this Travel Man series opener – and also my deep sense of frustration and annoyance, having endured an hour of irritating ego-tripping and hopefully-funny silliness masquerading as an informative travel programme. Never have I started to watch a TV offering with a greater sense of anticipatory relish – only to end up feeling I’d have been better employed and more fulfilled eating a plateful of dried locusts.

The two presenters – Richard Ayoade and Kathy Burke – promised much initially, but fell woefully short of their supposed brief. This was, ostensibly, to sum up the attractions of a vibrant and wonderful city and maybe have a few laughs along the way. Ayoade, best-known (though not by me) as a presenter of a gadget show called The IT Crowd, was culprit in chief for what I count as this show’s failure. The premise in Travel Man is that “Richard hates travel and holidays – so what will he make of 48 hours away from home?” Sadly, all else was subordinate to this contrived central message, which Adoyade proceeded relentlessly to hammer home in the most unsubtle way imaginable. It was my first taste of his – for want of a better word – style; I shall not be putting myself out to repeat the experience.

From early in the piece, it was clear that Travel Man was to be the vehicle whereby Ayoade might reach a wider audience and give them the benefit of what he fondly imagines is his laconic and laid-back presentational personality. The dreaded “comedy voice” was a frequent intruder into his narrative; that annoying way of introducing ironic quotation marks by vocal inflection, so that the listener will (hopefully) be inescapably aware that here is a windswept and interesting cynic with an edgy and alternative view on pretty much everything he sees. Some people can carry this off and even make some decent entertainment out of it; Ayoade, on this depressing evidence, patently can’t.

In contrast to my zero prior knowledge of Ayoade, Kathy Burke is a performer I’ve always liked and rated – but here, she was drawn into a teeth-curling attempt to create an unlikely comic double-act. Everything of substance was sacrificed in the effort to get as much ironic comedy as possible – frankly, not a lot – out of this incongruous pairing. Whatever the lure of Barcelona’s many and varied points of interest, it all had to be about Richard Ayoade and his reactions to whatever he saw; a self-indulgent and subjective take on each too-hurried item with the twitchily uncomfortable Ms Burke doing her best to play up to her colleague’s self-adoration.

Thus, in the interests of establishing the desired laugh-a-minute feel to the thing, there was an awkward “Ooh, we have to share a hotel suite” moment with Ms Burke seeming to fear some unlikely molestation from her clearly aloof partner in crime; then there was some cringe-worthy banter at the Nou Camp football stadium, magnificent home of CF Barcelona – where Ayoade was at some pains to demonstrate his effete apathy towards the Beautiful Game – and next some frankly repulsive emetic slapstick in a restaurant, to the bemusement of the admirably patient, polite and professional staff. Burke is a highly capable performer, but she was rather dragged down to the level of her colleague, who was clearly preoccupied with projecting his individual personality over the whole undertaking.

So, instead of being treated to Barcelona’s panoply of vivid beauty and unique art, we got a series of laboriously ponderous set-ups culminating in yet another of Ayoade’s hopefully-cutting one-liners – drawled and mannered punchlines that invariably failed to be even a fraction as devastating as they were clearly intended to be. It was bitterly disappointing fare, and Burke did well to hide the embarrassment she must surely have felt. Perhaps she will reflect that, as an accomplished comedienne, she should not be wasting her time playing stooge to a partner who should have stayed at home surrounded by his gadgets – rather than stepping so far out of that comfort zone into the pitiless and unforgiving arena of comedy.

The victim in all of this squalid waste of time and opportunity – apart from the hapless viewer, sat seething with all hopes dashed – is of course the city of Barcelona itself. A feature-length programme could hardly do justice to its many attractions: the beauty and individuality of its Gaudi-dominated architecture; the culture that shines dazzlingly out of every sunlit surface; the cuisine, the sport, the history. It’s all there in one precious jewel of a city, just waiting to be described and marvelled over. But, disgracefully, we got none of that – in fact it is sadly fair to say that by far the most informative aspects of the whole production were the occasional graphics which flashed up, telling us the price of this or that and highlighting one or other sight worth seeing. Meanwhile, Ayoade and Burke were tenaciously flogging away at the dead horse of their joint comedic potential; it was grisly, unrewarding viewing.

What we did learn is that Richard Ayoade loves Richard Ayoade, and is keen to share that passion with a broader interest group than his usual audience of geeks – but that he is guilty of the cardinal sin of any wannabe comedian: that of forgetting to be funny. And we also learned that Kathy Burke, when handed lemons, will do her solid best to make lemonade, bless her. On this occasion, though, she should have thrown those lemons at her partner’s smug countenance – and hopped straight back on the train home. If she had – then maybe I and doubtless thousands of others might have been spared the empty disappointment felt after a production, that could have achieved so much, ended up delivering nothing but resentment. The knowledge that there went an hour of my life I’m never going to get back left me wondering what the effortlessly authoritative Michael Portillo might have done with such a nugget of a travel show idea. He could not, let’s face it, have been worse – and you just know that he’d have been far, far better – by an order of several hundred magnitudes.

This series will tragically continue with what we might dolefully expect to be a similar treatment of Istanbul, but it won’t have me for company. My advice is to stay at home instead of being tempted to go along for the ride and, with all due deference to Richard Ayoade’s forcefully-professed and overtly squeamish dislike of muddied oafs – see if there’s any football on.

Little Hammer FOUND!! But Where WAS HammersFan aka HF?? – by Rob Atkinson

The Bitch is back...

The Bitch is back…

Some of us in the blogging world have been concerned for the safety of this HF lad, despite the fact that he was always an irritating and yet consistent pain in the arse for fans of the clubs he obsessed over.  Leeds United (of course) was the jewel in his blogging crown; not content with his alleged West Ham blog “The Game’s Gone Crazy”, he operated a supplementary effort called – wait for it – “The Game’s Gone Crazier”, where he made weak jokes at the expense of football clubs that he, as a Hammers fan, felt threatened or diminished by.

But there’d been no word from him since February.  Not a peep.  Had he got a job, or a girlfriend – or was it something more sinister than that? What had happened to him?  Had he simply grown up?

But now he’s back, and as drearily predictable as ever.  Still – I’m glad no misfortune had overtaken him.  You’d have thought that, as with banging your head against a brick wall, it’d be nice when it stops. But that long, echoing silence was perturbing.  There was this sneaking worry that, against all parental advice, he’d gone along with a dodgy geezer from Plaistow to see some puppies, and had had his innocence cruelly snatched from him.

He’s actually a bit vague as to where he’s really been all this time; there’s just a couple of weak and unconvincing excuses relating to his alleged first love West ‘Am and also to his undoubted obsession Leeds United (inevitably the subject of his comeback piece).  So: does anybody have any idea what really happened? Was it something to do with juvenile court, or has he been busy knocking doors for the UKIP Youth?  Had he, perhaps, been abducted by illegal aliens and incarcerated somewhere near the New Den?  Or had he just been cheeky to a teacher or a constable – and had his dongle taken off him for the duration?

I’ll be going back to ignoring his drivel now I know he’s still alive and dicking. But curiosity compels me to try and clear up this mystery of what caused his long silence.  Can any ‘Appy ‘Ammer shed some light?

First Million Hits Recorded for the LUFC Blog With Attitude – by Rob Atkinson

That magic millionth hit

That magic millionth hit

At 3:23 this morning, Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything recorded its one millionth hit at the age of just under 18 months.  The success story is actually a little more meteoric than that for a blog which is a one person operation and which has managed to average over one article per day in the time it’s been going.  The fact is that, until #LLUUE gained the immense fillip of distribution on the NewsNow platform – a football news aggregator which opens up a world-wide readership – this blog was very small-time indeed, having gained only around 13,000 views in the first 9 months of its existence.  So it was rather a quiet gestation period – but then things really took off.

At the end of August 2013, NewsNow started to share the blog globally – and readership figures went through the roof, as can be seen from the graphic above.  In the 8 or 9 months since then, that paltry 13,000 figure has been left far, far behind as an average of over 30,000 hits a week were recorded – and that figure is rising.  I had been looking at sometime in June for the magic Million – but things have accelerated even more since the new year, so the landmark has been reached early.  I’m sure that Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything will continue to grow and I’m hopeful that the second million can be reached by Christmas, or shortly afterwards.

It goes without saying that I owe a massive vote of thanks to everyone who has supported the blog, whether that support has been simply by reading the posts, right up to those incredibly generous people who have made substantial donations.  In between are the people who faithfully follow the blog; who take the time and trouble to respond regularly and stimulate debate; the ones who share each post via Twitter and Facebook and the other social media platforms, those who have donated small, medium and large sums via PayPal – so many people who have helped me concentrate on providing a regular output of a quality acceptable to me as an aspiring writer.

Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything is here to stay.  I’m determined that it shall keep going and continue to grow, even as I’m working on other projects including a “Full Circle” book about my time supporting Leeds between the two Championship seasons of 1973-74 and 1991-92.   With a blog, you know you’re getting somewhere when you attract a good few ill-wishers, and I’m glad to say I have my share.  To those people, I’d say – carry on complaining about the blog, it gives me a good laugh.  One particular troll seems to feel he has enough influence to get Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything taken down altogether.  Good luck with that – but don’t hold your breath.  Well, not for more than thirty minutes or so. 

Please keep reading, responding and sharing.  The time ahead, I hope, involves a successful Leeds United for us to support, discuss and argue about – an enticing prospect.  The aim for the blog is to March On Together with LUFC, towards a brighter future and shared success.  Thanks for everything, all of you who form a part of that landmark first million for this blog.  Your participation and support are very much appreciated.

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Hurt Feelings and Childish Tantrums Down Millwall Way – by Rob Atkinson

No-one likes them, and apparently they care TERRIBLY

No-one likes them, and apparently they care TERRIBLY

Tears are being shed, teddies thrown out of cots, feet stamped in darkest Bermondsey. Tantrums are the order of the day.  Millwall fans are feeling hurt and slighted, and d’you know wot, Guv’nor?  They don’t fink it’s fair.

They have this catchy little song they sing to something vaguely resembling the tune of Rod Stewart’s “Sailing”.  The melody (for want of a better word) is just about recognisable, despite the distinct lack of choirboy types among the New Den congregation.  It’s sung loud and proud, if not all that sweetly, but what can you really expect from proper ‘ard ‘ooligans eh?

The thing is, the words are a bit misleading.  There’s a catchy verse or two about being Millwall, Super Millwall, from The Den, and then it goes “No-one likes us, no-one likes us, no-one likes us, we don’t care.”  And this is where the irony kicks in because, to judge by the reaction my few “home truths” articles about Millwall and its fans have received recently, they DO care.  They care terribly, and their feelings, bless ’em, are painfully, grievously hurt.  The resentment is palpable, which seems a little odd when set against the background of the misery that, over the years, these barely civilised ruffians have doled out to visiting fans.  I’d normally use an “allegedly” in that last bit, but you know. Come on. Get real.

They’ve caused mayhem on the road too, whenever they’ve travelled in sufficient numbers.  Happily, as they normally bring only a hundred or so to Elland Road, they tend to huddle together quietly at our gaff, being ever so well-behaved and not saying “Boo” to a goose.  But generally speaking, the behaviour they like to display (if their numbers are sufficiently intimidating) to opposition fans strikes a curious contrast with the prevailing attitude if anyone has a go at them in print.  Then, the collective lip starts to quiver, tears spring to the eyes and the mewling and whinging starts.  This petulant attitude can reach quite a crescendo, and seems to consist mainly of childish protests along the lines of “You’re as bad as us!  Pot, kettle, black!!  IT’S NOT FAIR!!!!”  All very disappointingly soft and lacking in the hard-as-nails, “not bovvered wot anyone else finks” image they like to portray in their little song.

So, over the past few weeks, I’ve gained a new and unfamiliar impression of your average Miwwwaww fan (they’re not very good at pronouncing their L’s darn sarf).  Previously I’d thought of them mainly as squat thugs, built on troglodyte lines, eyes close-set, knuckles tattooed “Love” and “Hate” and an anchor on the forearm with “Muvver” etched beneath it; terrifying when part of a mob – which is how they would invariably operate. But in the light of the piteous squeals and squeaks of protest I’ve received lately, I’ve had to revise this image.

Now it seems to me that yer typical New Den habitué is a more sensitive soul altogether, with perhaps a rather weak chin beneath a trembling “north & south”, vulnerable blue eyes all a-brim with big fat tears – and the whole topped by the kind of golden curls you associate with that soft lad whose mum would never let him play football in the street. He’ll be a bit skinny, built more for flight than fight, and his whole demeanour will be suggestive of someone who, if anyone should raise a voice to them or speak an angry word, might very well break down altogether and run home shrieking to hide under the bed.  It’s a picture at odds with popular folklore – but what else can you conclude when you hear such awful, grief-stricken and self-righteous fits of pique?

The kind of people I’ve been hearing from, so distraught and horrified that I could even dream of being critical or unkind, would appear to be the type that are quite happy being as offensive as they can get away with in the furtherance of their pursuit of happiness, but – and here’s the thing – who get extremely unhappy should anyone tell inconvenient truths about them, or make uncomfortable allegations – maybe even generalise a bit or otherwise paint a grim picture of the archetypal Millwall fan.  They get so cross, it’s amusing.  They take to Twitter, where they spend half their time going on about how they’re not bovvered – and the other half making it abundantly clear how awfully, painfully bovvered they are, and calling down divine judgement upon the head of the inoffensive blog that is the source of all this distress.

Such is life, I’m afraid.  Sadly for the Miwwwaww fraternity, if you live by the sword you have to accept you might very well die by the sword – or even by the pen which, as any literary type will tell you, is easily the mightier of the two.  It’s simply a case of suck it up, stop whinging, straighten up and fly right, all that kind of thing.  Or of course, the option is there to “Carry on Crying”, if that’s what floats the Millwall boat, soft and silly as it might appear to everyone else.  It’s your call, Miwwwaww fans.  I’m happy to say that I couldn’t give a toss.