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Scotland

Sun 18 Jun 2006
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The cross we have to bear
I BLAME Jack McConnell, writes Jeremy Watson. Ever since the First Minister made clear he was supporting Trinidad and Tobago - England's first-round opponents in Germany along with Sweden and Paraguay - debate has raged over which team Scots should follow through the tournament in the absence of their own squad.

Fife-born Chancellor Gordon Brown said he was supporting England and claimed two-thirds of Scots would do the same in a breakdown of the centuries-old sporting animosity between the two nations. At least one public opinion poll claimed the exact opposite, so last week Scotland on Sunday sent a team of reporters, clad in England tops, out on to the streets to test the mood of the nation.

They also flew St George's flags from their car windows and drove though the streets of Stirling, Edinburgh, Glasgow and Dundee and along the M74 and M9 motorways. Would it provoke ages-old enmity or yawning indifference that revealed a nation now comfortably self-confident about its own identity?

STIRLING
He was Scotland's bravest hero who gave his life for his country's freedom from a tyrannical oppressor. We know because the F word is inscribed on the base of William Wallace's statue beneath the Victorian monument near Stirling that bears his name.

But that freedom doesn't apparently extend to the taking of photographs of an Englishman wearing his team's World Cup colours and waving a St George's flag in front of the legendary warrior.

All around, tourists from many countries were happily snapping away without interference. But the Three Lions on the shirt proved to be a red rag to a bull.

The 13th-century Wallace - particularly the Mel Gibson Hollywood version - would of course have parted my head from its shoulders with a single blow from his axe. Fast-forward eight centuries and it was one of the female staff from the nearby visitor centre who was dispatched on to the front line against the Auld Enemy.

There had been, she said, "complaints" from other customers about the heinous crime being perpetrated in front of their eyes. Photographs were forbidden without the express permission of the management, "especially", she said with an awesome curl of the lip and pointing accusingly at my shiny new kit, "if it involves something like that. This is private land."

I can only guess what Wallace would have said to that. All I could do was look as baffled as the Spanish tourists milling around at the great man's shrine. True enough, a school party had been there to witness the shameful display. Perhaps the sight of a man looking desperately self-conscious in an England football top had frightened the children.

If Braveheart's monument was a little inhospitable, the centre of Stirling couldn't have cared less. Parading up and down the town's main shopping area brought nothing but averted gazes. The only man to tackle me was an environmental campaigner for Friends of the Earth, who seemed desperate to talk to anyone, especially a fellow Englishman.

Standing outside a branch of Greggs, that great Scottish baking institution, eating a steak pie, only brought sympathetic glances from a crowd of Goths, presumably pleased, for once, not to be the outsiders. Even they moved swiftly away without comment. I took desperate action, crossing the street to talk to a gang of workmen, taking a break from digging up the central pedestrian precinct. Was I provocative, I asked? "Slightly," said one with a heavy hint of understatement. "But no one around here cares less what you wear."

Even a drive around Raploch, the Stirling estate notorious for deprivation, failed to elicit anything of a response other than a few resentful stares. A group of young neds, spraying each other with water bottles, couldn't be bothered to break off their water fight, even when I parked opposite.

At last, on the M9, a reaction. "White-Van Man" put in an appearance, first driving up close behind my car and flashing his lights until I pulled over. He sailed past in the fast lane with his middle-finger raised to the sky.

EDINBURGH
It wasn't long before the St George's flag brought a malignant stare and a sorry shake of the head from a motorist waiting at traffic lights in the nation's capital.

But while Edinburgh should have been fertile territory for a football shirt-clad Englishman, Princes Street brought only indifference.

Before Thursday's game, the only response came from a drunken couple sitting outside a bar near the Scottish Parliament. "Come on Trinidad and Tobago," they shouted at the top of their voices. During the match, anyone on the Cowgate would have heard the Scots crowd in their Trinidad and Tobago tops chanting: "You're going home, you're going home," before late goals from Peter Crouch and Steven Gerrard took the result England's way after another lacklustre display.

Down a side street off the Royal Mile, one youth, carrying a couple too many beers after watching the England-Trinidad and Tobago clash, sidled up. "Lucky," he said, "lucky," before heading off into the evening.

GLASGOW
Glasgow is a place where they take football rivalries seriously, writes Andrew Tolmie .

A plucky guinea pig I might be, but walking around the city streets in an England football top was never something that a proud Scot would look forward to. And when the entire nation was willing their adopted team Trinidad and Tobago to put one in the back of the net, it seemed more than a little foolhardy.

Still, I pulled on the alien shirt and boldly set off along Sauchiehall Street and the West End of the city. It didn't seem so bad at first, but it didn't take long for the verbal abuse to start.

"Get back to where you come from, you Sassenach," was the first, followed by loud chants of "Scotland" and "You're gonna get humped".

Then, before I could gather my thoughts, a Renault Megane drove past with its young passengers hanging out of the windows, shaking their hands and calling me an "English wanker".

But I was stunned when a lone pensioner walked towards me and waited until he was level before muttering "English bastard" in my ear. His comments were soon drowned out by the supportive toots and cheers from a car that was decked out in red and white flags. The rest of my journey was spent avoiding the daggerish glances thrown by male and female passers-by of all ages.

I was glad to get into the Sports cafe in Sauchiehall Street where both sets of fans seemed to have reached an understanding. Then after the game the mood again turned more hostile. It was then that my personal game began once again as I met a gang of depressed Scots fans with painted faces who told me bitterly: "Enjoy it while it lasts, you're going down."

But when I reached the West End, I was greeted by swathes of excited England fans who simply could not hide their elation. My hand was pumped, they had cheered themselves hoarse and my back was slapped as they walked off into the night to continue their celebrations - and I headed home to take off my shirt.

The journey home, with strategically placed English flags pinned to my car, took me along some of Scotland's busiest roads. When I drove on to the M74, I was stopped in my tracks by roadworks in which two lanes merged into one, but while my fellow motorists were flashed and waved in to merge with the one through lane, I was frozen out.

Wearily, I crawled my way down to the start of the cones, until one generous motorist took pity and allowed me enough room to manoeuvre in front of him.

DUNDEE
I parked my car in Dundee's cultural quarter before visiting the Nether Inn pub for the England game, writes Craig MacLagan.

Boos were already being directed at me before I could even close the car door. It all seemed in good humour, pantomime booing and cars tooting, then three guys across the street starting pointing and gesturing.

"Scumbag! You're a dirty scumbag!" shouted one. "You're lucky bastards. You only won 'cos of an own goal!" cried another, referring to the Paraguay game. "Hope you get beat."

I decided to enter the pub, just in time for 'God Save the Queen'. A scattering of applause could be heard and I joined in. This was met by loud boos from the Scottish contingent in the pub. In one corner, a rendition of 'Flower of Scotland' broke out.

I felt particularly vulnerable because although I was not the only one supporting England, I was the only one brave enough to wear team colours.

Most of it was good-natured banter, and it was a good laugh. But there is a small minority who take it too far. There were some really dirty looks, and to call someone a 'scumbag' just for wearing a white t-shirt is a bit much.

I'll still be cheering on Sweden on Tuesday, but I think we need to be careful to keep it good-natured. There are a lot of English people who live in Scotland who are just supporting their country. Now I've had a taste of how intimidating that can be for them.

AULD ENEMY OR BEST FRIEND?
FIVE REASONS TO LOVE THE ENGLISH
THE LANGUAGE
The common language we share with our southern neighbours is one of the most expressive in the world. With 380 million native speakers, it lags behind only Chinese and Hindu and is roughly on a par with Spanish - but it is the dominant global language, especially in business, and the most widely learned second language.

THEIR CULTURE
We may have Burns, but Shakespeare does remain the best, most quoted wordsmith of all time. And life would be so much blander without Turner, Shelley, Hitchcock, Elgar, Daltrey...

THEIR SENSE OF HUMOUR
The English are funny, funny people who are adept at lampooning themselves - something a more arrogant nation would never manage. Then there's the list of laughfests given to the world, from PG Wodehouse to Fawlty Towers and Monty Python.

THE UNION
The 300th anniversary of the Act of Union next year will celebrate the most successful marriage of two nations in history. Working together as Britons, we have enjoyed three centuries of relative economic prosperity, built a democracy which has inspired nations across the world and created the greatest empire in modern history (OK, we lost that one eventually). The big-hearted English don't even seem to mind us dominating the government, with one-third of the cabinet.

THEIR FOOTBALL
Whether we like it or not, the English probably have the best claim to have invented the Beautiful Game which is currently enthralling hundreds of thousands of supporters in Germany and billions of television viewers. Also, in Gerrard (left), Lampard and Rooney they have three of the finest players in the world. They also usually play the game in the Corinthian spirit, unlike those divers from abroad.

FIVE REASONS TO HATE THE ENGLISH
THE LANGUAGE
The Language

The common language we share with our southern neighbours is one of the most expressive in the world. With 380 million native speakers, it lags behind only Chinese and Hindu and is roughly on a par with Spanish - but it is the dominant global language, especially in business, and the most widely learned second language.

Their culture

We may have Burns, but Shakespeare does remain the best, most quoted wordsmith of all time. And life would be so much blander without Turner, Shelley, Hitchcock, Elgar, Daltrey...

Their sense of humour

The English are funny, funny people who are adept at lampooning themselves - something a more arrogant nation would never manage. Then there's the list of laughfests given to the world, from PG Wodehouse to Fawlty Towers and Monty Python.

The Union

The 300th anniversary of the Act of Union next year will celebrate the most successful marriage of two nations in history. Working together as Britons, we have enjoyed three centuries of relative economic prosperity, built a democracy which has inspired nations across the world and created the greatest empire in modern history (OK, we lost that one eventually). The big-hearted English don't even seem to mind us dominating the government, with one-third of the cabinet.

Their football

Whether we like it or not, the English probably have the best claim to have invented the Beautiful Game which is currently enthralling hundreds of thousands of supporters in Germany and billions of television viewers. Also, in Gerrard (left), Lampard and Rooney they have three of the finest players in the world. They also usually play the game in the Corinthian spirit, unlike those divers from abroad.

FIVE REASONS TO HATE THE ENGLISH
The Language
Like Britons and Americans, Scots and the English are often divided by a common language. However well educated and nicely spoken a Scot is, he will at some point be faced with blank looks from an Englishman and the annoying request: "Can you say that again, more slowly?" Or even "Lawd above! Say wot? Innit."

Their culture
The English are second only to Americans in their attempts at cultural imperialism. They have imposed all sorts of ghastliness on us, from Wimpy burgers to received pronunciation and Last Of The Summer Wine.

Their sense of humour
Was it just coincidence that every joke about an Englishman, a Welshman, an Irishman and a Scotsman always had a Celt as the butt of the gag?

The Union
With one-tenth of the population and our biggest urban centres 500 miles away from the UK capital, we are viewed very much as the junior partners in this marriage - and don't the English like to remind us of this? Ken Livingstone epitomises this when he bangs on about Scottish subsidy junkies being kept in clover by London's economy.

Their football
1966. 1966. 1966. 1966. 1966...

I don't think admission has anything to do with it!

I thought you'd get a kick out of that though.

Dimoreien, you have nothing to defend to the likes of him. There are insecure people in every country, the very fact he needs to post pro-British, anti-everything else belies his very large chip on his shoulder which he still needs to fill in.

Not pro-British, anti-everything else.

Pro-ENGLISH, anti-everything else.

And all Dimoreien has done is posted something that shows that the English are far more successful than the Scots - in literature, sport, etc etc.

"Welcome to 'All Things English' where our motto is: 'If it's not English, it's crap!'"

Highly doubtful, but we can be sure in the cuisine department the motto is, "If it's English, it's crap!" It was shitty English food that was the driving force behind mass emigration.