How about a spot of homosexual voyeurism to kick things off...

You know, I was really enjoying last weekend’s Britain’s Got Talent final until little George Sampson did his dance routine with all that rain and an umbrella. How long, I thought to myself, before I’m watching Steve McClaren, with his red-and-blue FA brolly, reproducing this same routine on Sports Relief, interspersed with clips of us losing to Croatia? Just like Waddle, Pearce and Southgate in their pizza ad, everyone will love Steve for being able to laugh at himself and this time it’ll all be for charity. No doubt the warm-hearted applause will make up for the boos he got that wet night in November. I shook my head at the very idea of it. Once more, I was re-living our New Wembley failure. I keep thinking I’ve got over England not qualifying for Euro ’08 but then something unexpected, like little George, gives me a flashback; I get a faraway look in my eyes, and it hits me all over again.

Of course, every England fan wishes we were competing in Switzerland or Austria this week but one man I met at a party just after the Croatia game had a very specific reason for feeling let down. The funny thing was he had no real interest in football but he was still genuinely distressed by our non-qualification; tortured by dreams of what might have been.

I won’t use his real name but we’ll call him Craig. Craig was a very nice chap in his early thirties; a homosexual. He lived beside a pub that was crammed whenever England played a big game. In fact, he said, it got SO crammed that it became a real effort to get across the bar to the toilets at the rear of the building. Thus, the young male England supporters filed out of the pub’s side door, at regular intervals, and urinated against the low wall outside Craig’s house. Some would find this a disgusting spectacle but Craig was strangely drawn to it. In fact, he told me, he would often have a few friends round on the night of a big game. They would sit at the window in darkness, sipping white wine and admiring the view. Craig’s exclusive little gang particularly enjoyed the big summer tournaments because of the clement weather. During the qualifiers, played in colder months, the view, Craig explained, was often obscured by steam.

This merry band of friends had expected several enjoyable evenings this June but it was sadly not to be. Steve McClaren and his team don’t know how many hearts they broke when they lost to Croatia. I bet that synthetic shower on Britain’s Got Talent brought a faraway look to Craig’s eyes too.

I saw him again, earlier this year. He took the opportunity to grill me about Fabio Capello: ‘is he the man for the job; will he get us to the next World Cup; will young Italian men start watching England games?’ It’s going to be tough, this next three weeks, but a new regime brings us all hope for the future.

Comments

[David]

I can remember a few years back watching Southampton and a couple of chaps were kissing and cuddling a few years behind. Other supporters objected and the stewards threw them out to cheers all round.

[baz]

The england team can't be resurrected to austria - switzerland BUT what about the PODCAST????

[Musa Okwonga]

To Mr. Keith Wilson:

As a gay man I can safely say that "peeping Toms" and "perverts" are exactly what Craig and his friends are. What's more, I don't think Mr. Skinner makes this pastime sound acceptable at all: he might only be surprised to find there are gay people who find it even more gross than he does.

A urine fetish is actually a pretty weird thing to be blogging about on the eve of Euro 2008. I mean, you've got a tournament with no clear favourite, a French midfield that might actually have some fresh blood in it, a Spanish frontline that might actually have some goals in it, an Italian defence that might actually have some cracks in it (Nesta's reputation is still recovering from Adebayor's demolition derby in the Champions League); you've got Germany led by the resurgent and relentless Ballack; and Mr. Skinner chooses to blog about a "very nice" pervert who won't get to watch English willies outside a pub this summer?

That's just bizarre.

[Sue Taylor]

Why do we hane to endure football matches nobody is interested in ?

It has to be the most self centred narcisssitic sport of all.

WHY? Discovery channel here we come.

[Tom Hicks]

What? Gay men looking at men? Well I never. Next he will be revealing the secret desires of female fans - checking out footballer's thighs etc. Bore off.

[Kevin Laughlin]

Yes, bring back the podcasts. The "David Pleat on the plane" song still lingers...especially the rhyming of "Jim Magilton" with a "drinks tray with fanta and lilt on".

[Michael Duvall]

I doubt St Quentin of Crisp would be tossing in his grave, there wouldn't be the room.

[tom brenden]

i thought this was supposed to involve euro 2008 not some irrelavent article revolving around nonsense

[Walrus]

I hope England qualify for the World Cup so we get Frank Skinner doing podcasts instead of blogs. Now I have to read....

Still very funny!! Where's the live dvd?

[Frank]

I was looking forward to another Skinner and Baddiel set of podcasts! Please do some more, pretty please.

[James Knight]

I think you should get yourself out to Austria and Switzerland and give us some more podcasts like during the last World Cup, they were great fun.

[Matt Gardner]

Frank Sinner: demolishing pernicious gay stereotypes since 1957.

Sincerely,
a homosexual man who was sad to see England fail to qualify for footballing, rather than cheap 'look to the side in the gents' reasons.

[Keith Wilson]

If it were heterosexual men leering at females they would be called "peeping Toms" or even "perverts". They would likely be prosecuted. But good 'ole PC Frank, manages to make this dubious homosexual pastime sound acceptable. If "gay" people wish to have equal rights it should cut both ways. Not more equal.

[Allan]

I thought you were going to talk about STRIKE. How half way through their act they pulled off each others trousers and revealed union jack g-strings. Then, as a grand finale... No, wait. All that only happened in my dreams when I went to bed afterwards.

[how how]

St Quentin of Crisp would be tossing in his grave.