Malice in Sunderland

An alarming legal precedent was set in a court room in the North East of England recently when Yvonne Mann (42), a pub landlady was convicted and fined £400 (plus £180 legal costs) for the heinous crime of possessing an offensive football scarf.

According to newspaper reports, the knitwear draped above the bar at the Adelphi in Newcastle City Centre announced neatly in the black and white of the city’s Magpies football team: “Sunderland Are Shite.”

The derogatory slogan that fell foul of the law was, of course, directed at Newcastle’s bitterest footballing rivals, Sunderland AFC, the Premiership club that numbers Niall Quinn and Jason McAteer among the large contingent of Irish internationals in its first-team squad.

In convicting the defendant, Newcastle magistrates sent out a chilling signal: calling Sunderland “shite” is an offence that will no longer be tolerated. Well, if that is the law, then the law is an ass.

Calling Sunderland shite is no more offensive than calling grass green or water wet – there’s little room for debate, it’s a fact of life. And I’m a Sunderland fan. However, the three officers of Northumbria police who were carrying an alcohol licence check at the Adelphi saw it differently. They considered the slogan on the scarf in question to be a breach of public order because it was visible through the pub window and “could have caused offence to members of the public walking by.”

Granted, the timing of Mrs Mann’s court case could not have been worse, coming as it did on the back of one of the club’s more impressive not-losing runs in recent years. However, this two-game streak which incorporated a shock away win against Leeds, followed by the infamous draw which saw Jason McAteer callously head-butt the elbow of Roy Keane (pictured before he had anything, of any kind whatsoever, to do with Sunderland) was in no way indicative of the club’s recent form.

A cursory glance at last season’s Premiership table would have quickly convinced any magistrate worth his or her salt that when it comes to describing Sunderland, few words in the English lexicon are more appropriate than the adjective “shite”. Despite drawing home crowds of over 40,000, they finished fourth from bottom of the league ladder.

If it looks like shite and it smells like shite, one can only conclude that it is, in fact, shite.

Of course, I would have happily have given evidence on Mrs Mann’s behalf, had I been asked. After swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, the exchange between myself and Mr Wesencraft would probably have gone something like this.

Him: “Mr Glendenning, you paid vast sums of money to watch Sunderland get ritually tonked in assorted London football stadia last season. How would you describe their performances?”

Me: “Shite.”

Him: “Is it true that after paying an exorbitant fee to get into Highbury, you saw Arsenal go 3-0 up against Sunderland within 15 minutes?”

Me: “Yes.”

Him: “What word do you think best describes Sunderland’s display that afternoon?”

Me: “Shite.”

Him: “Now, Mr Glendenning. If I could take you back to the season 1997-98, when Sunderland were in the First Division. I believe you were introduced to Niall Quinn in a Dublin nightclub. Is that correct?”

Me: “It is, yes.”

Him: “Could you describe the circumstances of this encounter?”

Me: “I was in Lillies Bordello drinking late pints with some friends, when a journalist I know approached me and told me that Niall Quinn was there and wanted to meet me.”

Him: “Niall Quinn, a famous Irish footballer who was one of Sunderland’s star players, wanted to meet you? Didn’t you find this a little strange?”

Me: “I did, yes. I thought it was very odd.”

Him: “So what did you do?”

Me: “Well, I assumed that someone was playing a practical joke on me, but I was assured that was not the case. It transpired that somebody had told Niall there was a Sunderland fan on the premises and he didn’t believe them. He wanted to meet me to see if it was true.”

Him: “Could you tell the court what happened when you met Mr Quinn?”

Me: “We shook hands and started talking about Sunderland’s push for promotion to the Premiership. I asked him if he honestly thought they’d go up and he promised me that they would.”

Him: “You must have been pleased.”

Me: “I was delighted.”

Him: “So, did he keep his promise?”

Me: “No.”

Him: “You mean that after everything Niall Quinn said, Sunderland weren’t promoted?”

Me: “No, they weren’t. After a 4-4 draw, they were beaten 7-6 on penalties in the play-off final by Charlton Athletic.”

Him: “You must have been distraught.”

Me: “I was surprised by how upset I was.”

Him: “So, if you could think of one word that best summed up your thoughts on Sunderland in the immediate aftermath of that match, what would that word be?”

Me: “Magnificent.”

Him: “Erm… quite. But if you’d met Niall Quinn after the final whistle, what would you have done to him?”

Me: “I’d have given him a great big hug.”

At which point the defence would no doubt have called Mr Royston Keane to the witness box…