Blue. Christmas.

Blue will be the colour, soccer is our game, we’re all divided and whining is our aim. A slight amending of the famous Chelsea soccer song from 1972 gives a flavour of current times. So we’ve got control back and we’re going to have blue passports back which, if you think about it is rather pathetic, have a bit of ambition wrexiters and just casually stroll through any passport control haughtily exclaiming “English, and we’ll have none of your nonsense here”.

And the blue team from Manchester are winning the soccer league very easily, which makes the asshole managing the red team from Manchester very upset, which is a good thing. Of course any soccer supporters would be more than happy to have their team bolstered with kleptonic loot.

And sticking with matters soccer it was heartening to see fan power usurp Tan power and get their beloved Cardiff City FC return to their traditional blue. Of course there will still be shirt design changes every year to exploit the wallets of the fans.

And so we’re in that weird limbo period between Christmas and new year, two arbitrary western dates around which so much has been built that the structure is now so grotesquely monstrous that it is rapidly becoming meaningless. Or maybe I’m just a grumpy old git. We speak, hear and read the now boring tropes that are rehashed every year. We vow not to spend so much, eat so much, just give simple and more meaningful presents, drink so much and every year we get sucked into the commercial maelstrom.

I quite like Christmas but one’s mental and spiritual well being is battered every year’s end.

And the festive season increasingly highlights societal inequalities, somewhat ironic as it supposedly celebrates the birth of someone who apparently tried to rid us of inequality. Not a good mix for those two human creations of religion and capitalism.


Keep on keeping on, love Duncan.


3 thoughts on “Blue. Christmas.

  1. What a nice article by John Wight. The only thing missing is any reference to the obscene number of ‘working-class’ peeps that also ‘doff the cap’ to the royals. I must remember to follow Jeremy’s example and not mention any proposals regarding the royals in my initial manifesto.


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