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By Owen McGuire (@owen_31)
Tonight, I watched what some call the biggest derby in English football, Manchester United and Liverpool. Also tonight, I researched the price of new glasses I could get, the price of a new PS3 and I tried to find out if there were any hipster places in Edinburgh I hadn’t yet eaten in and scoffed at. What I am saying by this is… I was not gripped by the game. In fact, I rarely am these days.

Football is still one of the biggest things I think about each week, each day a new podcast comes out that I listen to religiously to build up my dangerously sad knowledge of goings on, every night and every morning I read articles by various writers in the brief moments between the relaxation post and prior to sleep and the rest of the ordinary day. However, for the 90 minutes when the game is on my mind wanders to every other place.

Maybe it is the natural thing though. I have tried to watch every big televised game, and all the dross on Setanta, ESPN and BT sports in between, for the last decade. 10 years of spending my mid-weeks and weekends with the same love, and her same promises of excitement and tantilisation. The trouble is I find her to be all mouth with not a lot to back it up these days. The adverts scream out and tell you how great everything will be but for me it never really comes to fruition. It’s the difference between that first romantic kiss you had with someone and the kiss you are now obliged to give every time you go away.

For me football and breasts have a lot in common. When I was 13 I would have spat in your mother’s eye to view either but now, as they are both so readily available everywhere and I have been exposed to them so much, the buzz is gone.

When I was 15 I played football a lot and tried to model myself on the players I saw, think the brain of Pirlo and the physical attributes of Vanessa Feltz. For me, it was the greatest period of football so far. Ronaldinho was on TV a lot acting like a god in the Spanish league, In England Andy Gray projected enough testosterone out of his lungs to make the most average passage of play exciting (“THAT’S FABULOUS BY PAUL KONCHESKY!!” See what I mean?), and in Scotland people were still displaying clear signs of mental illness when discussing the teams they supported but it had less of a needy pathetic feel to it.

Don’t get me wrong, every so often a game comes a long and smacks me in the face with how good it is. The Super Cup this year was brilliant, Bielsa’s Chile & Bilbao were great to watch at points, but so often I’m sick of seeing people who have more money than the average country come out and be too nervous to express themselves in a game. I want to love the action again as much as I love the analysis.

What I’m saying is, c’mon Football, we used to share such a great f*cking passion together and you used to really get me going. So, how about this weekend we do it like the old days? I’ll wake up early go through the proper preparations to consume you. You can try your hardest to be like you used to be. Get all sexy again, shave that bikini line and show me you can still shake it.

You can download/listen/subscribe to the Scottish Comedy FC podcast HERE
Owen, originally from the cultural hotbed of South Lanarkshire, moved
to Edinburgh in 2008 where he begin dabbling in student stand up
before begin to perform regularly in 2010. Since then he has been
spreading his brand of pessimism all over Britain, mainly edinburgh
although he once did a gig in Berwick, and is preparing for a joint
venture at this years Fringe.

A fan of both Hamilton Accies and Manchester United, Owen has a love
for holding midfielders and players with average ability scoring
screamers (See Youssef Safri against Newcastle)

“Fresh, inventive and caustic” – Paul Sneddon.

“Owen McGuire’s opening pitch to the audience immediately warmed them
to him and kept up the jovial momentum of his riffs of teaching drama
in Larkhall.” – The Scotsman.

Owen McGuire asks…Football and me, living together in perfect harmony?



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