If you’ve ever wondered what goes on behind the wall of a soccer thug’s forum, I can tell you – not very much. For a while there, I was a (closed) board member and how that came to pass was more accident than design. I’d lost touch with Some Other Guy (SOG) I knew from Millwall and attempted to reconnect. I’d seen him, from a distance, at Tiny’s funeral. Tiny was the only one I’d remained in contact with. At the funeral, I’d been overwhelmed by the love I received but retrospectively I realised, that was probably more down to euphoric recall than anything to do with me. Seeing a face, you’ve not set eyes on in thirty years, takes you back to your youth. Who wouldn’t enjoy that? The post-funeral “do” was held at Millwall’s new ground. It was the first time I’d been there and by then, it was thirteen years old. Tiny’s a legendary figure at the football but it’s what he did after, that’s more interesting and, whatever that was, it was lucrative. During the mid-’80s I was in Versace on Bond Street, humming and harring over a pair of gloves. They were a combination of black rubber and green leather. Sounds bad but they were beautiful. There were also, about a hundred and fifty quid. I tried haggling but the guy looked at me as though I were mad “We don’t do discounts.” I responded, “My mate gets one.” He stopped folding: “Who’s your mate?” I shot back, “Tiny”. His reply put me in my place, “Yeah, well Tiny drops ten grand at a time.” That, according to Google, equates to about £30,000 today’s money. I left with the gloves tucked under my jacket… Six-three and slim, Tiny was a clotheshorse. He was never shy at the bar and, he was extremely loyal.
Retrospectively, I realise it was probably Tiny’s death that caused me to mourn my time over Millwall and seek out SOG. Those thug boards were the only chance I had of finding him and my first foray led to one called “The Derby Lunatic Fringe” (DLF). I didn’t locate him but I did discover another board. A largely Millwall one, with the acronym “LLG”. This stood for “Lovely, Lovely Geezer” (They love an acronym). I found SOG on LLG and that board was a lot of fun. We’d post about what we wore, where we went and what music we listened to. FV (football violence) had been dead for about a hundred years and was rarely mentioned. We were just a lot of fat old fucks laughing at ourselves but our merriment was cut short, due to some vicious assaults on SOG. With no way to defend ourselves against these cyber attacks (most of us barely knew how to turn a computer on), the board was closed down. The LLG had been an “open” board which meant anyone could post on it and that folks, had been its downfall.
Most of us were transferred to a “closed” board. This meant you couldn’t get on without being “vouched for”. Once on the other side, there were maybe twenty names that failed to appear. Yet, we’d probably only lost two or three posters. How you ask, can this be so? I’ll explain. They were multis and they didn’t make it over because they had nobody to vouch for them. A “multi” is an individual with multiple names and, in the world of the board, multis are considered extremely low characters. Hovering, depending on personal opinion, between grasses and nonces. A multi would state something and, when it was summarily dismissed (they didn’t know what they were on about), they’d summon another persona to back up themselves up. It wasn’t unusual to see a multi arguing with itself. It could get quite surreal. It never worked as multis tended to be weirdos who read far too many books on FV and posted, in overly Cockneyfied language. Then again, the latter can be levelled at Chelsea gents from the Home Counties and West Ham, from Essex. Sorry, not sorry.
Initially, the new board was quite intimidating as most of the members seemed to take themselves and FV, very seriously. It’s fair to say I was a divisive poster. Some liked me but most didn’t. I won a few over, some diehards seemed to hate me but as I’ve had real-life, genuinely heavy boats, feeling the same way, I wasn’t about to start losing sleep over a few randos on the internet. Some of the dislike was down to me being a prick but some of it was also due to my being, by their standards, a misguided liberal.
Truth was, I annoyed them on a multitude of levels. Politically, the board was what the media would term “far-right” which means they voted Tory. There were a few right-wing zealots but they didn’t carry a great deal of swing. At least not those who banged on about it openly. I suspect the shrewder ones held it down on the main board and I dread to think what they were on about in PMs. The moderators were largely Millwall. One called Paul was a cool dude. I can’t recollect the others. There was a Millwall poster called Lagboat, who was funny as fuck. I follow him on X these days. Sadly, I have to report that the northern and midland fellows were far more of a laugh. The London boys took it all way too seriously. It was difficult getting them away from VF, despite their hobby having been on life-support for twenty years…
There was a lot of discussion over the usual suspects, clothes, music and politics but the board was at its best when debating the merits of organic veg over “normal”. Or fake Christmas trees over real ones. There were loads of debates where one would take a position and stand by it, despite all evidence to the contrary. These began as an argument between two individuals and spread like wildfire across the board. Posters might align themselves with the guy following the same team but then again, they might not. This resulted in lifelong friends at loggerheads over Salt and Vinegar vs Ready Salted. Or screw in studs over Moulded. The debates would culminate in fifty or so football yobs, arguing and taking the piss out of each other- for days and it’s impossible to explain how much fun it all was. My wife would arrive home to find me at the computer, crying with laughter. On the flip side, somebody might mention an incident from years back at a station, a ground, or a service station and next thing you know, a full-scale war’s broken out. The best/worst of them were between Villa and Brum. They could argue over anything, for weeks, months even.
It would be easy to depict the characters on there as Philistines but the truth is rarely that convenient. Some of them, especially the quieter ones, were capable of causing a plot twist. I was once getting battered by half the board, for basically, sticking up for Paris. They were adamant it was ‘A shithole’. Suddenly this guy from Leeds who’s never posted about anything other than a deep disdain for Utd, Millwall and Chelsea, piped up on his love for the city and, unlike me, he knew what he was talking about. Naming streets, avenues, bars and restaurants… Between us, we shut them up and then we shut them down. That board held more than a few surprises but I was living on borrowed time. My Millwall classification had initially been fine, as in terms of fisticuffs - I was but by not mentioning that I was a lifelong Arsenal supporter and longstanding Season Ticket holder, I was lying by omission. For the record, if there were fisticuffs between them, I’d have to stick with my mates and they were Millwall.
The situation did arise – more than once - but I always managed to swerve it. Aside from a Youth Cup game at Highbury. We (Millwall to save confusion) came out at Finsbury Park and onto Blackstock Road where we encountered the local constabulary, who blocked the street off. I’d purchased an Elvis LP (Sun Recordings) at the Elephant Shopping Centre and, there on Blackstock Rd, my pointing at the Woolworths bag was enough to convince the copper I was an innocent passerby.
At the ground, I went in the East Lower. Millwall were on the Clock End and unbeknownst to me, at least initially, Arsenal, in the East Upper. So, there I was sitting alone, watching a match I wasn’t interested in, waiting for a fight I was even less interested in. I’d only gone due to arguing with Shane (see post ‘First Arrest’). Maybe I ought to have left the East Lower and joined Millwall on the Clock End but I’d sat in that stand for years as a kid. The whole thing was getting much too weird.
The odd thing about that game is I can’t recall any normal supporters at it. There must have been some but my only recollection is of the two groups of thugs, and the police. Football drilled down to its purest form? The story from Millwall is that the police had told them, that Arsenal had been phoning all day to say that they (Millwall) were coming. The police may have said it but for my part, I can’t see Arsenal doing it. They were pretty tasty.
Right, so the board… The longer I stayed on there, the more awkward I felt over being classified as Millwall and the ‘expose’ would come. There was no doubt about that. Had anyone asked, it would have made life easier but no one did. Undoubtedly, people were aware of my Arsenal affiliation, but it just hung there. My inevitable board demise didn’t come via my Arsenal declaration, I grassed myself up… the pressure was too much I tell you! No, my ignominious exit came from the enemy within. Why a guy would run around telling tales, will remain a mystery. However, there was a sting in the tale, as Parisian Leeds, gave me a job. We worked together, for five years. Often laughing about certain board characters…