Madri

Excepcional

Taxonomising the British lad has been a full-time job for at least the last 40 years. Except for the annual article about the banning of Christmas by the high visibility brigade, nothing has kept struggling centrist hacks in good copy quite like writing the obituary and/or the news that reports of the death of Laddism, have been exaggerated.

However, following heavy censorship of online platforms, coupled with an extreme leftward shift of broadcasting, to some it looked like Laddism had been finally given the coup de grace. Celebrity shaggers and Page 3 were out, and discussions of power exchanges and patriarchal structures were in.

But as with all utopian projects, Year Zero attempts to remake a new man in society’s image ended in failure. Five years on from MeToo, society hasn't radically altered gender relations. “Traditional” masculine men who exercise power and status are more popular than ever whilst self styled “Male Feminists” were quickly exposed as passive aggressive predators. Twitter's new owner Mr Musk appears to be heavily committed to freedom of speech and has unbanned notorious and ultra-popular, if somewhat one-note masculinist Andrew Tate, who now racks up likes in the hundreds of thousands.

Fronted with these obstacles some have emphasised evolution rather than revolution, maybe Laddism could be fashioned into progressive themes: ‘real’ men chastised other men who catcalled, ‘real’ men talked about mental health. Fatuous sloganeering “being in your mate's corner” or being “a geezer who needed a breather”, was the order of the day. One campaign even went even further with the hilariously misjudged “real men get raped”. Depending on how one stresses the first adjective - it could sound like an IronMan challenge.

It was also “manly” to care about societal inequality - Jeremy Corbyn's sloganeering was adopted into a football-style chant. This is no accident, football is the main vector by which this entered the cultural consciousness.

And football is a good jumping off point to introduce what is arguably the by-product of all of this evolution: “the Madri”.

Until the release of the astroturfed “Tiki-taka” lager by which he gets his namesake, he has been difficult to denominate. But you kind of already know him, he's an obsessive follower of “FootyLimbs”, he grows a moustache in November and stands up for “men's mental health”, he knows that “its #HerGameToo”, that it is important to “show racism the RED CARD”.

Qatar 2022 is central to the Madri, marking the total elevation of LGBT rights above everything else. On opening day you were hard-pressed to find any discussion of football, with pre-match analysis before Ecuador v Qatar almost totally non-existent. Madri’s have totally bought into it, of course. The beautiful game being hosted in a homophobic hellhole? ‘fucking grim this’ (the Madri will often reverse syntax to convey proletarian authenticity – despite going to university)

Madri generally marches in-step with the new 2010s football culture - one part punditry, one part social activism. These ex-player personalities never dare deviate from the Sky Sports political whip: Qatar is evil, kneeling is sacred, and Harry Kane should’ve sacrificed England’s chances by wearing the LGBT+ armband. Madri nods as Roy Keane comes on screen, slating England’s cowardice when it comes to standing up for gay rights abroad. However, Madri is not entirely convinced by this class of veterans. Gary Neville? Greedy landlord with a penchant for champagne socialism. Graeme Souness? Sexist dinosaur. Just this week, Madri outrage flared-up after Joe Cole complimented the “power and pace” of African teams - which they took as a racist trope. “Joe, mate. It’s not on.”

Gareth Gamergate, the sublimation of any organised human activity into a mechanism for the propagation of ‘current thing’, is a Madri loadstar. Likewise, the players previously the bête noir of Berliner format newspapers, have undergone their own revolution. Not two European Championships ago, football hipsters were making jibes about ‘Sterling (the player and currency) being worthless in Europe’ –such criticism of BAME players is unthinkable today.

But through the ersatz outrage, we can see glimmers of the beautiful game. Now that the tournament has actually started, videos emerge of travelling fans daring to have fun. Sky Sports journalists, moist at the thought of standing up to the villainous desert capitalists, are met with stories of English fans satisfied with their accommodation — and even petting lions! - They, not the conformist Madri, are the real football fans.

Despite Qatar’s alcohol stadiums bans, loutish behaviour for both sexes is refreshingly in evidence, saucy birds getting their tits out for the lads and as of writing fans dressed as Crusaders have been detained for disorderly behaviour in the Sheikdom. The shaven headed tattooed faithful will no doubt turn Qatar into Magaluf with minarets.

At the home of course, a rainy Monday afternoon hasn't deterred the fans from sinking pints at 6:00 AM and sticking flares up their orifices; after all, no pyro no party.

The football has been good as well.