If you were to ask any of the cretins who frequently propagate the Daily Record's inane Superscoreboard Hotline column, where the ubiquitous term "Stonewall" penalty appears with increasing regularity, they'd undoubtedly profer a bemused grimace, inevitably followed by the utterance "coz it wiz a total pure stonewall wan so it wiz, fuck knows, it jist is, intit?" as their knuckles drag across the pavement.
Football itself is undeniably a magnet for pack mentality bozos, their communal tribal gathering, and as such the urban language of limited intellect is contagious. Any remotely verbose individual would fall victim to immediate rebuke should perchance he exclaim "the scenario was preposterous, Norris of Bolton indubitably collided with full intent and purpose towards felling the goal scoring potential of that Ronaldo chap, a player of quite extraordinary skill and inventive endeavour". "You ya posh fuckin' poof, it wiz a pure stonewaller ya cunt".
For the benefit of those diminished in neural cogitations, "Stonewall" - the source: To doggedly block someone's progress. Originally derived from the nickname a Confederate general "Stonewall" Jackson obtained at the battle of Bull Run. The troops said his men were holding back the Union army like a stone wall. Hence Stonewall Jackson. So to stonewall means to delay and generally block someone.
Meanwhile, I'm convinced there is both a King Cretin and a King Ned. King C must be the guy who gets the ball rolling with the scum-cliches such as "quality" as an adjective (it's a noun, everyone), "a little bit" (what the hell happened to 'slightly'?!), "put in a 'shift'" (played a full 90 minutes of football, diddums - try 8-10 hours in the real world) and the peer-pressurised hordes are contaminated and find utterance of these pearls (before the swine) irresistible. Whereas King N had a soiree around Scotland's cultural nirvana of Edinburgh, noticed the Morningside blue-rinse middle-class handbag-to-the-chest ladies sporting the apparel of the east coast bourgeoisie - Burberry. This once-luxury label admitted that its popularity among “neds and chavs” has now significantly boosted their hitherto dwindling sales coffers.
The brand’s signature check has now become so associated with scum-class Britons that the sort of upmarket customer Burberry prefers to associate with has now shunned its products. Clearly, being an aspirational label only works until the wrong kind of people aspire to you! So King N clocked this, and his ironic take has raked in the dosh for Burberry. Which begs the question...is KN actually the head of marketing for both B. and the Buckfast-guzzling dregs of humanity? A shrewd strategy, intit?
