Vitriol

Found myself in the belly of the corporate beast this afternoon - went to Starbucks for an end-of-term-celebratory Latte and piece of cake (neither of which were 'skinny', give me strength!) and had a good read of The Times.

My first port of journalistic call, as always, was the sports pages. I had always thought of Simon Barnes, one of the paper's chief sports writers, as a bit of a twat. Some years ago he wrote a very scathing piece about Middlesbrough FC, in which he was highly critical and patronising towards not just the football team but the place and people as well. I may have to revise my opinions, however, in the light of the article I read this afternoon. I'm marching shoulder-to-shoulder with him on this one:

'I am a Steve Mclaren fan. I shall sing his praises wherever I go...He is a hero of the beautiful game. I shall hang on his every word...Steve, I am your man.

Anything, rather than be counted with the England fans...

It began within fifteen minutes (of England's qualifying match against Andorra in Barcelona on Tuesday night). There was no thought of encouraging the players...This was a group of people hungry for hate, waiting for the first moment in which they could legitimately express their hatred. It was an absolutely poisonous occasion...If I were a player, I would wish never to play football for these people again.

(This) is considered a basic human right in football..."They've paid for their seats, they have a right to their views." A right to views, yes, but do they really have a right to hideous, violent and personal abuse?

I'll support him for evermore. I am prepared to believe that he walks on water. I want Mclaren in - if only to spite the poisonous bastards of Barcelona.'