Andy Murray – An apology
I’m not one to offer an apology easily. My star sign is Leo and I have more pride than Simba, Elsa, Clarence the Crosseyed (google it) and any other lions you may be able to think of, put together.
But, here goes……
Andy Murray, you’re not a miserable Scottish twat, or a mardy ginger git and I don’t hope you lose
Now maybe I’m a victim of advertising – I know a PR exercise when I see one – but I watched that programme last night which basically said “C’mon, take another look at him, he’s not that bad you know”. So I did, and he’s not. In fact I was quite charmed. He seems like a lovely young man and even his Scary Mary mother came across more Fern Britton than Maggie Thatcher.
This is a major turnaround for me as I’ve actively and loudly disliked him for years. I think it was the football comment and the fierce Scottishness that started it.
Maybe I should explain, at the risk of being called racist and carted off to jail or being outed in The Sun, I’m not very keen on Scotland or the Scottish. There, I’ve said it.
Before you start with the hate mail and comments attacking my weight, looks, family etc, I do have reason for this uncharacteristic prejudice of mine.
I used to visit the North East of Scotland regularly for work and I can honestly say I’ve never known such a grim, forbidding, soul-sapping place or such dour, stony-faced, unforgiving people.
I happened to be there in 1998 (during one of the few World Cups Scotland have scraped through to) and rather naively a colleague and I decided to visit a local bar to eat dinner and watch England’s match against Colombia.
We were the only English people in the place and to say the atmosphere was hostile would be such an understatement – it’d be like saying Katie Price was a virgin. The anti-English feeling directed at us was just incredible, I felt like I was in downtown Bogotá. To make matters worse, England lost the game. I can still hear the cheering and caterwauling now. We made our hasty exit, a skinny, scared young bloke and a clearly upset young woman wading through the vitriol and being pelted with beer mats by upwards of 50 “grown” men.
But I can’t really take it out on Andy Murray any more. I mean, at the time he was only 11 and I doubt Scary Mary would have let him frequent the bars in Banff at such a tender age.
So, I’ll say it again, Andy Murray I apologise, you’re not so bad after all. I wish you all the luck in the world these next two weeks but, if you do go on to win the title, please remember you are BRITISH. You are only Scottish if you go out before the quarter-finals ok?
Oh, and I’m happy to report that my story had a happy ending. Scotland were royally shafted by Brazil the very next evening!!