Spread the love

Beesotted contributor Lewis Holmes admits he’s spent too much time on Social Media in the past couple of days – here’s what he thinks of TalkSport’s Andy Jacobs’ attack on Brentford’s style of play post-Chelsea. We will also be talking about salty Jacobs, the Gtech hypocrite, during this week’s www.prideofwest.london podcast.

The reactions of their fanbase whenever we beat one of ‘dER BiG cLuBs’ is invariably one of the sweetest parts of beating one of the big clubs. Frothing outrage, gritted teeth, sopping undercrackers – how dare Brentford upset the natural order of things, they’re just a modern day Stoke, grrrrruuuuggggh! Probably followed by shouting on Facebook, kicking the cat and falling asleep in front of Match of the Day.

I dunno about you, but I love it. I proper feed off it, it’s sweet nectar to my inner misanthrope. I’d never even seen a reaction video before we got to the Premier League, but now they’re like this sweet little amuse bouche after the hearty main course. Just feasted on a Thomas Frank masterclass, the delectable delights of a Matthias Jensen pirouette and a Bryan Mbuemo lung-busting run? Why sir, please cleanse your palate with some impotent outrage from a bunch of bedroom-dwellers who couldn’t even spell Brentford three years ago. I hope they enjoy the 20p from my click as much as I enjoyed them screaming away in the box room while mother pops the chicken nuggets in downstairs.

I draw the line at the professional outrage mob though. The actual journalists who trained for years, just so they could spaff out 800 words for The Sun (don’t buy it), or bellow at each other on TalkSport. In this man’s humble opinion, TalkSport are the worst of the lot: a clickbait behemoth whose every action is designed to hoover up listeners, clicks and shares and bring in the sweet, angry coin. I’ve boycotted TalkSport since Adrian Dunham’s days of sneering at us while sobbing into his Peterborough scarf, and as a result the whole Andy Jacobs furore completely passed me by until I saw the socials bubbling up like a hot spring about to erupt.

And blimey, did it erupt. How dare this man besmirch Brentford Football Club! He was mean about Thomas Frank! I’ve seen multiple calls to revoke his season ticket, suggestions that we chant at him throughout the West Ham game, and one actual petition to have him removed from the Gtech. I can only assume that the ducking stool is being built down at Kew Bridge as I type; we must plonk Andy Jacobs in the chilly depths of the Thames and prove once and for all that he is a WITCH to be burned at the stake.

Come on, when did we turn into Leeds? We’re better than this sort of hysteria. I swear the first couple of seasons mixing it with the big boys weren’t like this. We laughed at the furious wails from Arsenal fans on that historic first night; we revelled in the seethe emanating from Manchester after they were battered senseless in the scorching August heat; we relished the collective fit of pique from down the road in SW6 as we walked away from consecutive masterclasses at Stamford Bridge.

The sneering was water off a duck’s back. We’d sit there as one, letting it all wash over us. We’d never react – that sort of thin-skinned response was beneath us. Your lot got done by a bright new force in the Premier League mate, and all you’ve got to come back with is weak little jabs about history, industrial football and long throws.

Yeah, but Jacobs was slagging off Thomas Frank and how we play! There’s some very short memories around TW8. It wasn’t too long ago the Frank Out zombies were moaning their deathly chorus after every game. Dean Smith before him had his fair share of knockers, too. Back down the line through Dijkhuizen and Rosler, Butcher and Rosenior; if you kicked people out for slating a manager we would’ve had an empty ground in 2007, and those buckets outside the ground would’ve remained empty. How many of you have uttered those immortal words “I pay my money, and I’m entitled to my opinion”? If you’ve never said that, then hold your head up high. But I reckon a scant handful of people reading this qualify.

But Lewis, I hear you say – he’s a Chelsea fan, he’s taking a seat off a proper Bee! I get it, attendance is a sensitive issue; I’m very aware that people are missing out every time I plonk my fat arse down in the North Stand. I also understand that we’ve picked up a few new fans thanks to the meteoric rise over the last decade. I’d guess several thousand people – who once had us as their second club when we were toiling away in League Two – now spend as much, if not more, time at the Gtech as they do at the home of their first club. If you kick Jacobs out, you’d have to kick them all out too. You might be comfortable turfing out a 40-year-old glory hunter, but what about his or her kids? How many of the next generation have tagged along with mum and dad and fallen in love with Brentford? Quite a few I reckon. Us old farts aren’t going to be around forever, new fans are vital.

My hypothetical scenarios are moot though. Supporting another club, slating the manager, critiquing the style of play – none of these things feature in the Ts&Cs on our season tickets and they absolutely shouldn’t do either. I hate the term, but are you honestly such a snowflake that you want Nanny Varney wandering the rows turfing people out because they don’t love Brentford as much as you do? Come on now.

Getting angry about Andy Jacobs on the socials achieves nothing, it’ll only embolden him because he’ll probably get a standing ovation in the TalkSport canteen. Do you want that gobby mob cheering over their Shreddies? Of course you don’t. No, if you want to do something about Andy Jacobs then responsibility must fall on those around him.

And I speak to those people now: the select handful unfortunate enough to have that terrible Gollum in their midst. Do not abuse, do not use violence or rude words, but by jingo you must get passive aggressive with this guy. We need some proper guerilla tactics from you lot. Be polite at all times, apologise for all of the unfortunate accidents, but do not let up. I’m talking a nice, melted Chomp on his seat; Bovril ‘accidentally’ sloshed on his lovely white cardy; a ketchuppy hotdog jizzed on his casual slacks; and Werthers wrappers secreted in his hood at every single opportunity. It is in the hands of maybe 12 people tops, but in an ideal world Andy Jacobs would leave the Gtech looking like Harry and Marv at the end of Home Alone. Have fun, be creative with it – we believe in you!

Lewis Holmes

What do you think? Share your thoughts in the comment box below.