A season ticket, a loyal heart and the rail, tube and bus disputes that test them, with a tour of the farmers’ complaint desk
Thursday, the Season Ticket of the Heart
Supporting a London football club is a long-term relationship, and I explored the comparison in London football is a long-term relationship. Like any partnership, it involves devotion, disappointment, expensive gifts and the occasional silent journey home. I have been in mine for twenty years, and I believe I have earned the right to complain.
The same loyalty applies to politics. People support a party the way they support a team: out of habit, family and a stubborn belief that this year will be different. The comparison should not be pushed too far, but it explains a good deal. Fans do not switch teams because of one bad result, and voters do not switch parties because of one bad week. They stay, grumble and turn up the following Saturday.
The Referee Problem
Both football and politics suffer from the referee problem: everybody is certain the official is biased, and everybody is sure that their own side was cheated. In a fair argument, we would allow that referees make mistakes in both directions and that most of them are doing a hard job in public. I try to apply the same principle to broadcasters, regulators and fact-checkers. They are not always right, and they are not always wrong, and the best response is to check more than one view.
Friday, Getting There
Match day, like every day in London, depends on transport. The London Prat has a warning in the form of a headline: Tube Strike Christmas: Londoners Start Walking Now. Disputes on the underground are a familiar ritual, and I have learned to hold two ideas in my head. First, that workers have a right to bargain and strike. Second, that commuters have a right to be furious. Neither idea cancels the other.
A sensible approach is to ask whether the talks are real, what each side has offered and what the public can do. The answer to the last question is usually to walk, which at least improves the nation’s step count.
The Complaint Desk, Again
For a masterclass in complaint, I send people to the countryside. The main archive is farmer.gripe. The two political entrances of American farming are farmer.republican and farmer.democrat. The trade press is at farmpress.org.
The ranch finance pages, where the grievances meet the bank, are corancher.loan, okrancher.loan and txrancher.loan. A football supporter who thinks the season ticket price is steep should read about the cost of a cattle trailer. Perspective is a rare commodity and a cheap one.
On Natural Habitats
I once described the places where certain Londoners can reliably be found in the Prat's natural habitat, a piece that continues to attract complaints from people who recognise themselves. The pub with the sticky carpet. The panel show green room. The commuter train with a laptop and a sigh. Every political ecosystem has such spots, and a diarist should visit all of them.
My rule on visits is to stay polite, take notes and leave without leaving a tip I cannot afford. It has worked so far.
Saturday, Full Time
The match ended in a draw, which is the football equivalent of a coalition. Nobody was happy and nobody was ruined. We filed out of the ground in orderly chaos, sang half a song and went to find a chip shop. A man beside me said, “There’s always next week”. It is the national motto of both sport and politics.
I got home, put the kettle on and wrote a line in the diary: today I watched twenty-two people chase a ball, and I considered it a better use of public attention than most of what happens in Westminster. Then I crossed it out, because it was unfair to the players.
The Away End Economics
The away end of a football ground is a lesson in value for money. You pay a fortune for a seat, stand for ninety minutes in the cold and are rewarded with a pie that tastes of warm regret. Yet nobody asks for a refund. The price of belonging is not measured in pounds but in the stories you tell on Monday. A fan who has been to a muddy ground on a Tuesday night in February has a currency that no banker can match.
I suspect the same thing explains why people go to political meetings in draughty halls. The pleasure is not in the policy. It is in the company of fellow sufferers, the thermos of tea and the sense that you are part of something that is bigger than a bad week.
Sunday, a Quiet Walk
After the match I walked along the canal with a flask. The water was grey and still. A heron stood on the towpath like a retired referee. I stood beside him for a while and neither of us offered an opinion.
Where to read next
The rest of the shelf lives at prat.uk, bohiney.com and farm.fm. For a second opinion on the week, Newsthump keeps its own counsel and its own hours.
SOURCE: https://bohiney.com/