Bramall Lane, Sheffield, S2 4SU – the heart of Brexit Britain?


You might have read Rafael Ramos’ recent article and thought, ‘well that’s a load of bullshit.’ If you haven’t, he published a scathing article on DEM BLADES in fake newspaper La Vanguardia entitled ‘Brexit total: solo juegan británicos en el Sheffield United.’

After reading this article, I quickly set up a meeting with Rafael. We meet up at a small café, somewhere east of Barcelona on the border of reality.



Me: Rafael your article is written in Portuguese isn’t it? Can you tell me the appropriate translation into English, seeing as the accuracy of your English to Spanish is unquestionably excellent?


He looks shifty, could he be lying? He chews on a piece of charizard and sips coffee that isn’t as tasty it’s British counterpart, good old British coffee eh? “It translates into English as, ‘Total Brexit, watch Brittany play solo at Sheffield United.”


Me: Thanks, Rafa, can I call you Rafa? I love Brexit as much as every single Sheffield United supporter and the squad and the manager. You know, I hate my forthcoming holiday to Prague as much as I hate migrant labour and Merlot.  What is your take on Brexit?


He spits out the bit of chariza skin that was stuck on his teeth and bites into his eighth churros. “Listen, I hate Brexit because I love Barcelona and I hate referenda and I hate democracy. I preferred a simpler Spain where you could walk down Avenida del Generalísimo Francisco Franco, without fear of the complexities of democracy.”


I take umbrage with him here, choking on my Yorkshire Tea which, as a Yorkshireman, is the only thing I drink. There’s literally nothing else. I tell him he can quote me on that and I watch him busily scriblle in his note pad ‘people in Yorkshire only drink blood.’


Me: Listen Rafa, I get your frustration, but where did you get those quotes from? You know, those quotes from our manager, Chris Wilder. Those quotes you appear to have made up? You know, fabricated? Magicked out of thin air. Lied about for your own reasons? What are those reasons?


I’ve riled him. His silence speaks volumes for a moment and then he breaks into a Flamenco dance, all the while, shouting to me. “I can say what the fuck I want. I can say whatever I want. This is a democracy. I have the freedom to speak and to say whatever I want and I am correct about your Saudi Chairman and I am absolutely correct in my quotations of your manager.” He stops to catch his breath. In fairness, his opinion on the Saudi regime is broadly correct. But maybe he is drawing an ever so slightly tenuous conclusion when he links a football club with an entire country. Maybe.


“Listen, listen to me now,” he slurps at a bottle of Sangria that has magically appeared in his hand. “Listen, I said what I said because I am a journalist and I can twist words and manipulate them to my advantage. For example, your manager is from England as is most of your players and I have made it looked like you are the UKIP of football.”


Me: Yes, you have you fucking prick and I am not happy about it one bit.


He looks at me sincerely now. “I am sorry if I have offended you. I hate stereotypes as much as the next guy and I hate Brexit. I just needed to find a quote that suited my angle. I’m a marketer of words. Like Katie Hopkins or Jeremy Clarkson or Boris Johnson or Owen Jones or Jeremy Paxman, I have opinions for money and I will misquote whoever the fuck I want.”

I cannot stay with him any longer and leave. It’s still quite raw to have your club mocked and associated with one side of a 49%/51% referendum on Brexit. I didn’t look him in the eye as I left but could hear him chomping down some Manchego cheese.

I only hope that La Vangurdia and Rafael Ramos publish an apology for their ridiculous misquoting.



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