“I'd rather take a cheese grater to my cock [than watch Southend] at the moment.” - Spikey M, 05/01/2020.

Australia is ablaze, China’s insistence on eating bat arseholes has doomed us all and Jim Davidson has unveiled a portrait of “Mr Brexit.” But it’s not just everything else that’s catastrophically shit, football is too! And I can think of no better way to illustrate this than the state of Southend United.

How many managers have these cunts had?
The number of managers Southend United have had since Sky invented the sport in 1992 is a microcosm of the state of football as a whole. Any sense of permanence or stability is a myth as a series of men named Barry, Colin and Steve come and go. 20 managerial appointments in 28 years is typical of football in the 21st century, though with crowd trouble and racism on the resurgence perhaps the wider football community should take a page out of Southend’s book with their appointment of minority candidates such as Sol Campbell, Chris Powell and of course Phil Brown.

Which bastards are funding all this?
Why, the betting firms of course. If they’re making all the money off people’s weakness and probably involved in all sorts of corruption then of course Southend should get their slice of that delicious pie. It’s fine, because Paddy Power do loads of banter so they must be top lads. Southend being reduced to this having spent the last few years displaying the names of the Amy May Trust and Prostate Cancer UK can is, like so much at Southend United, a reflection of bigger clubs like Barcelona. If Barca, Mate have gone from having no shirt sponsor blighting their sacred shirt to taking that sweet Japanese tech money via Unicef and human rights abusers what choice do Southend have if they want to stay afloat?

So which bellend owns this rabble, anyway?
Well according to Wikipedia it’s Ron Martin who has (genuine Wikipedia quote here) “the most magnificent head of hair out of all 92 professional club chairmen” so he must be alright. But even a barnet as lustrous as his can’t hide the fact that an increasing number of football clubs are owned by, if not actual dictators, massive bellends.

With all this money swilling about they must be doing alright though, surely?
Wrong! They have suffered repeated financial difficulties and recently had to pay players directly from the owner’s pocket. With a handful of rich clubs setting the terms and throttling progress elsewhere Southend are just one club that perfectly displays the financial inequality that’s making life so difficult for many teams. Do you stay sustainable and settle for disappointment or push your financial boundaries and risk both the winding up of the club and your chairman not having enough money to adequately care for his magnificent hair*?

* I still haven’t Googled him, I’m just assuming Wikipedia isn’t lying to me.

So just how much does it cost me to go and watch this shower of shite? According to the most recent stats currently available (BBC’s 2017 Price of Football survey) a Southend ticket is between £22 and £25, by the time you factor in a programme to give you something to read instead of looking at the pitch and enough pies to take your mind off the fact that you’ve willingly chosen to attend a Southend match I estimate that a parent and two children going to the game would need to spend in the region of £350 every Saturday. And this isn’t even that bad! It merely holds up a mirror to the spiralling costs being forced onto fans who want to go and watch their beloved team of indifferent millionaires every week.

In Conclusion? If this detailed thesis hasn’t proven to you that football is a load of old bollocks and you should just stay at home watching Netflix then nothing will. Come on, sheeple!

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