The Summer of 2026 was beautiful. It was cool for a change, in fact it was just right. When the Sun shone it was warm, and when the breeze blew, it was cool. The crowds thronged to Wembley. It was the FA Cup final. They filled the stands waving everything they could possibly buy from the concession stands dotted around the area. Foam hands, hats, swords, hammers. cuddly toys, scarves, replica shirts. Fans of both teams mingled together and made merry drinking the 1% alcohol Schitezer beers in half pint glasses at £10 a pop. Don’t fucking spill it. Oops he swore, that will be picked up by the sensitive microphones dotted around the stadium. Within a microsecond the cameras will find you, determine your seat number, ticket details, your address, your phone number, your sexuality, marriage status, your driving license details and your criminal records. As if by magic your phone bleeps, a text, it’s from the Police. You have been found guilty of using profane language describing a sexual act in a public place. You have been fined £1000 and must attend an Anti Profanity class. ‘Bollocks’ he thought….know what I’m sayin’? Thought.
VAR. Have you ever hated such an innocent acronym? Yeah man I have to get a VAR Scan on my knee. Oh ar. VAR. Video Assistant Referee. It originated in Holland and first trialled by their Football League, the KNVB. They were very hot on it, in fact they had a right hard on for it and pressed other Football Associations at International and National levels to adopt it, trial it, talk about it. The Propaganda was good and wholesome because the propaganda was money. And we all know the sultry voice that has. Those little shrivelled dick Motherfuckers in the Hugo Boss suits would be like little excited Monkeys running around biting and trying to fuck each other with that voice absorbed into their thick heads. Yeah man there was a right speed in getting this VAR thing adopted, the speed only a project that crackles and crinkles with very rustly handshakes can make. Fast man, very fast 2014 as part of the Refereeing 2.0 project.
Our sport is in mortal danger. The Lizards have taken over, they have got greedy, like they always do. Not content any more with the Russian six foot tall blonde hookers and the complimentary snort, the brown envelopes, the free tickets. It’s now about constant income, constant flows. VAR will provide that. In English Football the footage of matches goes to Stockley park. What is that place? What goes on there? All we have seen is standard photographs with Proto Fascist looking Referee drones staring at big fuck off Monitors. Backs erect, attentive, concentrating like it’s a fucking rocket launch. It’s wrong man, it smells bad, this whole thing. Imagine it’s one big con. Who watchers the watchers?
Imagine some geeky self fondler has broken himself away from flogging child porn on the dark web and developed an amazing gambling algorithm. It’s a betting algorithm that doesn’t bet on the results of matches but looks at the spread of bets on a particular match. If you had a betting company, a big online one, you could make a lot of money in stopping successful bets. What if that program could also tell you the perfect result, including red and yellow cards, fouls, goals all the crap you bet on. But now the Punter never wins big, never gets that crazy win on the Acca. They win just enough to keep them interested and clicking those phones. Yeah, the betting companies would make a lot of money. Money that I suspect is moving around the men who love the VAR.
That program would be dead easy to synch up to a Football Association VAR Set up. Maybe the Big Betting companies have people within the companies that provide VAR Technology to Associations. That way the ‘advisors’ are only a phone call away. The money made would flow very nicely everywhere. New cars, holidays, houses in the country…
VAR is bent mate. It’s too fishy by far. It’s so incompetent that it surpasses some of the other major dropped bollocks the English FA are fond of. That makes it as weird as fuck to me. There have been strange decisions made in Premier League games this season. Ones that are stand out errant decisions, data points well off the fucking graph.
We hear talking head Pundits on all the major Football shows. Some of the conversations from them are quite anti VAR but don’t be fooled. The message they are spreading is that yes, it’s rubbish, the whole idea…but we are powerless and weak…we can’t argue with FIFA or the FA any of the Alphabet arseholes to be honest, you are just a fan…like us, but weak…lets make the best out of it for now, things ‘might’ change in the future…These pundits are sucking the fight out of you. They don’t care about your enjoyment. They don’t give a fuck about how you feel about football because YOU are just a TWAT. They don’t care about your enjoyment.
Football in this country has evolved from the knee snapping, mud plugging, playing in snow drifts with only coal to eat semi combat football of yesteryear, now it is beautiful as we encourage players from around the world to share in this popular madness. They have brought their ideas and philosophies on how we should play football and it has been a hard slog since the day Ardilles and that other bloke came here and signed for Tottenham. Tough for them and tough for us. We had to adapt too and love the way the game was changed. We have always been receptive to change, us, the fan. In those days most of the crowd were working class blokes, women, kids. When you have no money you adapt fast to change, you have to or you won’t survive. We accepted them very well I think.
It gave us, in English football beautiful players mixing with brutal semi Neanderthals, one week on muddy patches and the next week manicured lawns of a pitch. These beautiful players, well they too learned how to adapt. It made English top flight football a lucrative and exciting thing to watch…a very lucrative thing. They wanted more money and more power. They were hungry now. The men in tight expensive suits had arrived. The men who had eyes like sharks and skin that was tanned with the paleness of their skin glowing underneath.
So they sold everything that wasn’t nailed down, they drove clubs apart with TV Money, split ideas and philosophies. Entropy had set in, financial entropy. There can be no creative process in that system. VAR is the ultimate entropic system. Matches will no longer be often chaotic, emotional, gut wrenching, hair pulling joy, all the dynamic madness a system uses to grow and develop. Instead there will be an equilibrium, a dissipation of energy. A death. Will it be stopped? No, VAR will march on, there is a power in money and money in power. There are of course ways to stop it but it requires action from us, the dickheads who give them their money. Stop buying beers in the stadiums for a match occasionally. Get a day when every match where VAR is in operation will be a dry match. Don’t buy a hotdog, don’t buy a pie. Support the team 100% as always, sing, drink outside the stadium. See what happens. Of course it will never happen, we have lost the war already. We are greedy and we consume. We are the people that fuck off to the bar after twenty minutes and miss a few goals while we drink the watered down shite beer they sell in football stadiums. We are the ones that moan….all the fucking time about the game. We are the ones that make Monkey noises at Black dudes trying to earn a living playing football, we are the ones that make jokes about Korean players eating dogs, we are the ones that enjoy punching other people in the head because its funny and you hate them because of that match or that player or because they come from that place or this place or they worship a different fucking Sky Wizard than you. Fucking hell.
All I’m asking is that the next time some doughnut runs on the pitch because his emotions have gone a bit wild, find that VAR screen or any equipment you think is VAR connected and smash the fuck out of it. That’s a good fucking message.