Where Are Yer?

We football supporters have some strange notions about geography. Given that a travelling football fan sees more of the country than most people, you’d think that we would have a better idea of where places are than the average Joe. However, the evidence suggests otherwise.

We pretty much know that London is south of here and the North Pole is to the, well, north, but after that the details can get a bit patchy…..

A case in point occurred at Redditch, when some of our Chavs accused their Chavs of being northern, and if I recollect, scum. Northern? You’d be forgiven for thinking so after we travelled on the Northbound A14 and M6, but no, Redditch is actually to the SOUTH of Kettering. So, Redditch go from being Dirty Northern Bastards, to Soft Southern Jessies in the blink of an eye. They didn’t like being called “Brummies” either. “We’re not piggin’ Brummies, we’re Redditch” one Brummie piped, in a broad Brummie accent.

Teams like Telford, Chester and Hereford have not responded well to our assertion, when visiting their grounds, that their proximity to the Principality means that they are Welsh (and they know they are).

The anger shown by Telford and Hereford at our geographical faux pas is perhaps understandable. Hereford is a mighty 17 miles from Taffyland, whilst Telford is a whopping 26 miles from being in sheep-worrying country. Chester, on the other hand, can’t really hit back at claims of closet leek-waving tendencies given the fact that half of their ground is actually in Wales!

What constitutes a Cockney is also open to some debate. The accepted wisdom is that you need to be born within the sound of Bow Bells to claim the dubious honour of dressing in a pearly suit, eating jellied eels and knowing the Kray family personally. This distinction has proved far too narrow for we Poppies fans who have in the past accused everyone from Stevenage down to Maidstone of being Cockneys.

But even then, we don’t have the record for rank geographical ignorance. During Darlington’s brief stay in non-league, one of their charming followers called my better half a “Cockney Slag” as she was selling programmes at Rocky Road. Either this person possessed an extraordinary ability to somehow divine that her maternal grandmother hailed from London, or, more likely, assumed as they’d sat on a coach headed south for 4 hours that they must surely be in London! Oh, and the slag bit was wrong too, I hasten to add!

Even within London, regionalism runs rife! I remember watching Arsenal play West Ham once on the TV, and the Gooners were calling the Hammers, “Cockney W*nkers”. My first instinct was to say, “you’re all Londoners, surely, you’re ALL Cockney W*nkers!”


Here's a helpful map of the UK purely for illustrative purposes. The appearance of the fair Becky Mantin is purely coincidental.