By Kevin Halls
I enjoy watching Room 101 on television. The programme, hosted by comic and well-known West Brom fan Frank Skinner, gives celebrities the chance to get rid of things they dislike.
Based loosely on Room 101 in George Orwell’s dystopian novel 1984, these stars of stage and screen can also explain why they want to throw into Orwell’s dustbin this person or object that irks them so much.
While watching the programme it got me thinking about a football Room 101 where us fans of the Beautiful Game get the chance to let off steam and where we can get rid of stuff that gets us hot under the collar.
To kick off my Room 101, I’d lob in divers and cheats. The players who theatrically throw themselves into the box to get a penalty. Instead of a spot-kick, they should get an automatic red card instead.
I detest these charlatans who jump through the air as if they’ve been shot by a sniper in row Z when, in reality, they’ve suffered nothing more than the slightest of nudges by a defender. Throw them in Room 101 head first, please.
Now I’ve got divers out of the way, I’ll follow up with players who wear gloves.
What’s all that about? Who started the fashion off in the first place anyway?
Whoever it was has got a lot to answer for, in my opinion. Even on a mild day you can be certain one or two players will be running about with woolen mitts on.
Could you imagine the likes of Roy Keane, Norman Hunter or Tommy Smith donning a pair during a match? No, of course not so glove-wearing footballers in you go.
Next up are football stewards.
Now not all of these are stormtroopers in brightly coloured high viz jackets.
Some are friendly match day officials, but sadly a fair few are bolshie jobsworths who seem to get a kick out of ruining your day by standing in front of you while you’re trying to watch the game, and when in a group resemble a pack of meerkats looking about the crowd!
I don’t believe many are true football fans, so sorry but bolshie stewards it’s Room 101 for you.
I’m on a roll now and another bugbear is ‘know-it-all’ football fans.
You know the sort – that one who sits by you at every home game who slags off your team week in and week out.
They abuse the players and the manager, shouting out loudly that they don’t know what they’re doing.
This season-ticket holder never misses a match but always seems happier when picking faults. Why bother keep on turning up?
Sorry but these ‘fans’ give me a headache so let’s dispatch them into oblivion so they can moan and groan for eternity.
Another irritant in football these days is the cost of following your team. It’s becoming an expensive day out home and away and at some clubs you’d need to remortgage your home just to be able to buy a season ticket.
That’s not to mention the cost of buying your club’s shirt. If little Jimmy wants the whole kit for his ninth birthday, it can send your blood pressure up and bring you out in a cold sweat. Unless the powers-that-be bring the cost down, I’d stick them in the room where there’s no way out.
Also on my football hate list are politicians who say they support such-and-such a team but you discover they have only ever been to one match, such as David Cameron who got Aston Villa and West Ham mixed up when pressed who he supported (both play in claret and blue).
It’s as if they want to be seen as ‘ordinary’, down-to-earth people, but you know they haven’t got a clue. I wish they’d stop their lying and be honest, but we know that if a politician says they follow a football club it’s because they’re after our vote. So tell him/her the only vote you’re going to get is for them to be lobbed into Room 101.
And don’t get me started on rich owners of football clubs who waltz in with suitcases crammed full of cash, but because they have money coming out of their ears think they can do what they like.
Many haven’t got a clue how to run a football club and if they see their team losing a few matches they panic and sack the manager.
These clowns belong in a circus and shouldn’t be let near a football club. If I had my way they’d be locked in Room 101 where they can’t ruin yet another club.
Finally, I’d throw myself in Room 101 for finding all these faults with the game I love so much.
Despite all its defects, it’s still the greatest sport on the planet and what would I do on a Saturday afternoon without it? So in I go for whinging and also for being a Coventry City fan – they’ve turned me into such a miserable sod!
