I am a bigot. How do I know? Because a friend told me. Why does he say that? Because I refused to support the Republic in this summers World Cup. Does this friend go to Windsor? On many occasions yes. Even for somebody who attends our games it was easy to get caught up in the storm of bullshit and propaganda. I was saddened and confused by this viewpoint but I must confess not surprised.

And it was a confusing matter being a Northern Ireland supporter in this country during June. The consensual fiction that there was a team called "Ireland" representing the entire "nation" in Japan and Korea became so infectious that it was left to followers of Our Wee Country to question their own sanity. How long had we been asleep for? When did this 32 County polity come into existence? And if 45% of our fellow countrymen seemed to be under the impression that their national team played in Dublin who were these other morons clad in England jerseys who seemed convinced that they were from somewhere in the Home Counties despite accents to the contrary? Were we the David Ickes of the Province? Wibbling dementedly about the football equivalent of reptilian space aliens taking over the world.

Given the choice, however, between a ruling elite that have been crossbred with iguanas and listening to the beggars’ bullshit I must confess I’d go for the former every time. During the World Cup I heard a pundit (I can’t remember which one now) comment that Ronaldo was a good player "a bit in the mould of Robbie Keane", I witnessed Martin O’Neill comparing a draw against The Worst German Side Ever ™ (and they were - but I’ll come to that later) to beating the hosts on their own patch in 1982 and other incidents were to numerous to mention. But for someone who doesn’t want to see a team which threatens the very existence of my own country’s side to do well (or a bigot as I’m otherwise known), what was the truth behind the Republic’s much hyped campaign?

For those black-hearted and evil misanthropes who wished the breakaway association nothing but ill luck for their forthcoming tournament, things began promisingly. Our purportedly "local" broadcasters set aside a full week of news time to cover the foul-mouthed outbursts and bad-tempered brawlings of one of Cork’s travelling community. Roy Keane’s departure from the Republic’s camp was ascribed partly to a disagreement with his manager and partly to "personal problems". In all fairness being a psychotic gipsy can be a serious problem for a person. Roy was also probably concerned about his family. I’m told it’s been a tough few years for itinerant driveway tarmaccers. Of course the most shocking thing about the Keane affair was the reaction of those fun-loving scamps, the beggar supporters. The vast majority came down on Keane’s side (as shown even more recently at Shelbourne they’re still 100% behind him), obviously believing that it was perfectly admissible to refer to your boss as an "English c**t" (can you imagine the uproar if the boot had been on the other foot, McCarthy would immediately have been sacked for racism). Not entirely surprising that they supported an abusive and violent scumbag when you consider we’re talking about a country where dishonesty and casual criminality are often viewed as endearing national quirks.

In any case, there was some call for optimism as the Cameroon game approached. In that spirit many of us forewent a Saturday morning lie-in and arose (in a lot of cases with heads pounding and arses biscuity) for the competition’s first breakfast kick-off. Kettles had barely been boiled before Cameroon took the lead - everything was going to plan. Cameroon had 3 points on a plate but declined to pocket them. The Republic played throughout the first half with ten men in defence. Instead of taking the game to them, Cameroon were content to withdraw as well and played out the half tapping it about at the back. There was little more ambition shown in the second period and inevitably Cameroon were punished for trying to hold the one goal lead (this was to happen to teams time and time again throughout the tournament). The Republic equalised through a freak Matt Holland strike and held on for a draw. What might have surprised some people though, was their reaction, celebrating as if a famous victory had been secured. Make no mistake about it, the Republic had done nothing in this game, their point was almost solely attributable to the Lions being a damn sight more "Domitable" and less ambitious than they should have been. Note also that an African team have never been past the Quarter Finals of the World Cup and also that the recent African Nations Cup was perhaps the worst spectacle of football seen outside the opening rounds of the County Antrim Shield.

The reaction to the Cameroon game was conservative though in comparison to the fuss after Germany. I am quite aware that Germany eventually reached the final (after a farcically easy run during which they should have been beaten by the USA) but they were not a good team. How could they be having been so heavily beaten by a chronically overrated England, not to mention held by the Welsh? Compare the current Germany side to the team that went on to win Euro 96, the team that we drew with twice, including the match in Germany when big Gerry put And so to our chums from Saudi Arabia. Of them not a great deal has to be said. If they spent less time and expended less energy funding the jihad and irrigating desert golf courses, they might just produce a better football team. This lot looked as if Bin Laden might have got a game if he wasn’t so keen to sublimate his World Cup ambitions into projects like trying to kill the American team. Of course the most farcical outfit in the finals obligingly bent over and parted their bum cheeks with some defending of the type with which we were becoming accustomed.

Of course the most disgraceful piece of hubris and mendacity was the claim that the tinkers outplayed Spain. The Spanish (once again the beggars found themselves behind) had the ball in the net three more times and each effort was struck off, Mick’s multinationals equalising penalty came from a highly unconvincing foul on Niall Quinn. The Spanish then went on to play with ten men throughout extra time. After one of the most incompetent displays of penalty kick taking caught on camera, the Spanish went through, to the relief of every fair-minded observer. The Republic and their fans were on the plane home with only their self-delusion and whatever they’d stolen from their Asian hosts to bring with them.

Back at home the Republican flags and Eircom tops still proliferated, Jerome Quinn and Donna Traynor still wittered inanely about a game of which their ignorance clearly knew no bounds and our home country became just the little bit less accommodating still, to those who choose to support their own national team.

We’ve almost grown to accept it now, the fact that our team isn’t welcome in it’s own city. It might be a symptom of our lack of success or it might be something more sinister than that, a kind of cultural ethnic cleansing that is endemic in other elements of our society as well as football. Sadly the only lasting solution to our peripheral status is probably success on the pitch. Otherwise we’ll continue to be a minority obsession, with the knockers by force of numbers painting us as insignificant losers (the Unionist disbelievers) or a shower of bigots (the Nationalists). It’s getting no easier to be a Northern Ireland supporter.

Owen