A pitch invasion and a curry – the perfect English Saturday

But while we expect that from an Irish funeral, this was a slightly different experience. First of all, it wasn’t an Irish funeral, it was an English one. Besides, it wasn’t for one person. Instead, it was for a once-proud football club that had just been relegated from the Football League.

Yes I went to Oldham with some friends to see the League Two (Division 4 in Old Money) derby between Oldham Athletic and Salford City.

Oldham, who played in the first Premier League, reached both the FA Cup semi-finals and League Cup final in 1990 but were on the relegation ladder for years and that game was crucial in ensuring their survival from the darkness outside the league.

Why on earth have I bothered visiting a club I’ve never supported, especially when as a Manchester United fan Old Trafford is only 11 miles from Oldham’s Boundary Park? Well I’ll never eclipse Old Trafford while those rotten glaziers are in charge.

Also, I prefer lower league football. The Premier League is hard to love and I prefer old school authenticity. There’s nothing more old school than the Latics – founded in 1895 and a club that officially represents England’s most disadvantaged city.

Contrary to the headlines about delays at the airport, everything went smoothly at check-in; much smoother than what happened on the pitch that afternoon.

I’ve always preferred the north of England to the south – I really don’t like London and this was an opportunity for a working-class dub to show his support for the working-class of a city abandoned by the British government.

It was certainly an interesting experience. In fact, it was like stepping back in time, even down to the clinking of the old turnstiles we walked through.

As a die-hard people watcher, I was as curious about the fans next to me in the Joe Royle Stand as I was about what was happening on the field – and that was a pathetic standard of football. There was a feeling of despair and despair. Two young teenage girls sat in front of us, kicking and heading every ball. As one of them told me, they have nothing else to do on a Saturday afternoon.

With about 10 minutes to go and the inevitable league exit, some lads tried to get onto the pitch to protest the owners and were ushered away by the stewards, which was fine – which was not fine for me that one of these guys was treated by a steward and everyone went nuts.

We all knew there was going to be a protest and I had planned to just be an observer, but when we saw this boy being taken out the mood broke and it wasn’t long before many fans stormed the pitch. Before I knew it, I was part of the crowd occupying the center circle.

But here’s the thing. Despite all the reports of this so-called riot, unsupported by Gary Neville’s tweet that he had to leave the grounds because fans were getting “moody,” it was the most peaceful pitch invasion I’ve ever seen. Nobody destroyed the place. Nobody tore up seats. There were fathers with their children in the center circle, and that’s not how riots work.

In fact, in my opinion, the only serious aggression came from the stewards and the cops, some of whom seemed a little too eager to get involved.

Then the cops charged us. When things calmed down we all headed to a nearby pub where the regular fans were so amazed at a bunch of Oirish visiting their home ground that they insisted on buying us drinks.

These are some of the poorest people in Britain who had just lost their only sense of comfort and the most important part of their community identity. Yet most (not quite all, in fairness) of them were still eager to show a bunch of strangers some local hospitality.

Her sincerity was quite moving. It was certainly a trip to remember – although the events of the rest of the night will forever remain secret. But while I will always be a United fan, the next game I attend will be in Boundary Park to see their first home game in the National League.

These are wonderful fans who deserve better in a city that is almost a perfect example of post-industrial decline and decay. Let’s hope they see better days.

After trudging past slag heaps and empty car dealerships, we finally found an Indian restaurant where I had the best chicken vindaloo I’ve ever eaten.

So, every cloud and all that…

Our priorities are so out of balance it’s almost – amusing

Well, I hate being the bearer of bad news, but you may have seen a mention of it.

Yes, it looks like we’re facing an energy and fuel crisis that will eclipse even the grim days of the 1970s when people siphoned gas from a stranger’s car.

Recently, the increasingly unhinged Putin decided to pull the plug on gas supplies to both Poland and Bulgaria. We could easily find ourselves next in the line of fire. So what occupies the great minds of our glorious and beloved political elites?

Um, lawn.

Ahead of Sinn Féin’s Dáil filing on Wednesday, Micheál Martin insisted there would be no ban on turf use – for the remainder of the year. The proposal to ban lawns was a bad idea and, like most bad ideas these days, a Greens initiative. Honestly, sometimes one gets the impression that they are willing to sacrifice the rest of us for their utopian and unrealistic plans to force the little people to live the way they do.

A headline in the indo even hinted that the turf dispute could topple the government – ​​which is even more ludicrous than the threat ‘Partygate’ poses to the Tory regime.

They may not ban it now, but you know they will ban it when they get the chance. Then we’ll start seeing illegal deals in the precinct, and that’s going to be weird. I get this impression of high-speed car chases between the police and elderly farmers as the authorities begin to crack down on the illegal possession and distribution of the latest contraband substance – something people just use to heat their homes.

There is a growing movement to legalize cannabis. So if the ban is implemented, maybe farmers can join the stoners in their demands for freedom? Funnily enough, cannabis resin used to be referred to as “lawn” when I was younger. Well, I’m told I obviously have no direct knowledge of such matters. Farmers and hippies of the world – unite!