Monday, 14 June 2010

Anyone But England

I've read plenty recently about the Scots (and other 'Celtic' nation's) refusal to support our neighbours and fellow countrymen England in the World Cup. English commentators have blamed it on our rank jealousy that glorious England are in the world cup whilst we are not, whilst Scottish blogs and articles have pointed to the British media’s constant chattering about England deserving to win the world cup. Whilst I would love to see Scotland represented in the World Cup I’m not jealous of England, I’m more jealous of teams like Honduras, surely Scotland have to be better than Honduras! And yes the England based media is annoying come the World Cup, it isn’t enough to make me actively support other nations. No, the real reason I support teams playing England is far pettier than that.

 

The truth is I don’t like what England FC represent. Football teams to me don’t represent their nations, or indeed the culture of their nations. What they represent is the soccer culture. I absolutely love England’s culture, high tea, Pimms, Cricket on the lawn and the stiff upper lift. The quirky nature of England is brilliant and represents all of the UK to me. I love the Dorset and Summerset cultures, the Yorkshire culture, the city cultures, the history and the strange nuances that somehow make me proud to be British. The UK is a unique and downright ridiculous country, and England plays a significant part of that. I love it.

 

England the football team represents something different to me though. They don’t represent Pimms on the yard and the bloody history of England. The football team represents the ‘Engerland’ culture. I picture fat balding men thinking football is England’s gift to the world, as if all other countries deserve to give them respect. A hooligan ‘Gods Gift to football’ nature which I utterly loathe. I was asked recently who the first person I thought of when someone mentioned English football. Surely Bobby Charlton, Gazza or maybe Wayne Rooney would be my answer. It wasn’t. The first person I think of is the person I most associate with English football; John Motson. His Engerland obsession yet utter inability to pronounce foreign player’s names represent the English football culture perfectly to me.

 

I think about the teams I do like in international competitions, Germany for example. The German football culture isn’t Lederhosen and Europhilia, it is a stiff combination of East and West Germany, a football team where perfection is key. No stone left unturned, with the happiest fans who deserve to be arrogant, yet somehow aren’t. They drink beer and enjoy themselves, friends with everyone else (except maybe the Dutch). Then there is Argentina. I don’t think about a poverty stricken South American country, blessed with beauty, but without the tourism its neighbour Brazil enjoys. No, I think of Diego Maradona. He is one of my favourite people in football, a man who does everything to excess, an overweight former drug addict who is somehow possibly the best footballer there has ever been. And how can anyone dislike a team with Lional Messi in it?

 

Yes it may be petty, but I just cannot stand that English football culture, a nasty arrogant fat man who orders beers in Spain by putting an ‘O’ on the end of every word. Anyway, don’t worry England; I hate the French team too.

Tuesday, 1 June 2010

Happy as a Pig in Muck

Tonight I combined the two somewhat distinct pleasures of reading the philosophy of Jeremy Bentham and watching the trashy television show Britain’s Got Talent. I enjoyed both, but they were completely different types of pleasure. Bentham was intellectually stimulating, providing me with an interesting insight into the levels and meaning of happiness. It provided me with a basis to think philosophically and elaborated on intelligent and important life-issues. It is an enjoyment that I thrive in. I study philosophy due to this kind of enjoyment and thought-provoking ideas. It’s an enjoyment I experience time and time again and go out of my way to find this kind of enjoyment.

Britain’s Got Talent was completely different. The pantomime entertained me in an amusing and simplistic way. Booing and hissing at the acts I disliked, complimenting the acts I thought were good and acting dismayed with the opinions of the judges. It was Simple, tacky, entertainment, mass-packaged for instant and effortless enjoyment. I would never go out of my way to experience this, but feeling unwell and tired it was nice to relax to and lose my mind to senseless entertainment.

Bentham made an outrageous claim. He said that pleasure from ‘quality’ sources is a greater happiness than that from base pleasures. To read is a greater happiness than to laugh at a clown falling down a stair-case. I realised that today I coincidentally put his theory to the test. I experienced happiness from reading philosophy and happiness watching a base form of entertainment. Both made me happy, but was the former happiness better than the latter?

To me it was. It was a happiness I enjoy looking for, find interesting to delve into and time and time again will enjoy considering. After-all I wouldn’t even be writing this if it weren’t for Bentham. I got instant ‘canned’ happiness from Britain’s Got Talent, but it’s is like the buzz from drinking red bull. It’s a sudden, fast, immediate rush of happiness that leaves as fast as it arrives. I found it a lesser happiness.

This begs an important question, is this the case just to me, or is it across the board? There are plenty of people who look forward to shows like Britain’s Got Talent much like I look forward to learning from philosophical texts. Maybe to our Britain’s Got Talent fan watching these shows gives them a proper, lasting, and instilling happiness that is akin to the happiness I get from philosophy. Or perhaps our Britain’s Got Talent fan is missing out in the type of happiness I can experience, perhaps this person only knows the fizzy pop happiness I experienced this evening when watching the show.

Bentham is certainly correct with regards to people like myself who enjoy these ‘loftier’ pleasures. Perhaps though to people who do not Bentham is incorrect.

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