The All Whites are making me racist

Football Hooligans

Remember that great Conchords moment when Bret muses about his female coworker: ‘she’s so hot she’s making me sexist’?

Now the All Whites (appropriately) are doing the same to me. They’re so hot right now, on the eve of their huge game against Paraguay, that I have found that I almost uncontrollably racially abuse their opponents, such is my inflamed passion for our team’s successes at this world cup.

I have shamefully turned the beautiful game of nations of all colours into a red-neck celebration. But I can’t help it.

I have long suspected that I am almost too non-racist to be true. That underneath the veneer of perfect respect for different cultures and ethnicities to my own lurks an aggressive racist, a closeted English football supporter.

I’m desperately middle-class, went to university and had I guess what you would call a liberal arts education, had Asian, Islander and even an Iranian best mate during formative school years.

But I’ve always had my suspicions.

And now it would seem that all along my subconscious was luring me into a false sense of self-righteousness. And all the while planning a major racist break out.

Admittedly the Slovakian game saw a slow start to my burgeoning racism. There just wasn’t an obvious in, I didn’t know anything about the Slovaks but didn’t want to resort to obvious generic Eastern European cliches.

Quite a few of their players had awful matching short haircuts. This gave me a little something to work with, but while I flailed around for some sort of cutting neo-fascist comparison my brother got in before me: ‘they look like a bunch of romper-stompers’.

Simple, effective, perfect.

The end of the NZ vs Slovakia game left me hungry for less obscure targets.

The NZ vs Italian game really brought my inner-racist out. I eventually settled on ‘Eye-tie’ as my preferred racial slur which seemed sadly 1950s but pleasing to say nonetheless. You can really roll it out of your mouth like a big fat Texan.

I stopped short of ‘Wog’, too effectively-reclaimed as it is.

Poor decisions against us even saw the referee become a target. Again, my brother outshone me with an immaculately-timed ‘dirty povo little Mexican’ (he was Guatemalan). I kept missing my stride.

Maybe I will peak at 2am this morning when we take on Paraguay? I can certainly go the South Americans for their poverty and drugs.

Also, one of their best players got shot in the head in a Mexican bar before the world cup. This is all rich material.

I’m really going to miss being an ignorant English football yobo after the cup.