THE World Cup is here five months late, so why not express your belief in your country in an aggressive manner by wearing a replica kit 24/7 from now until mid-December?
A perfect way to show you support Southgate’s boys more than anyone who isn’t wearing one, the England shirt is a versatile garment to be worn:
Under a jumper
Wearing nothing but breathable, flying-pint-friendly polyester is sweetly sexy when cheering the lads on a balmy summer’s evening. But corruption nobody’s owning up to means the Cup’s in November and you’re in a heavy knit. Leave Harry and the other Harry to do the sweating and heat prostration until we win.
Under a flag cape
Does a Saint George’s cross clumsily tied in a knot across your shoulders count as an outer layer, or an outré accesory? And layering patrotic symbolism? Gauche. Just as you’d never wear double denim, don’t step out in double England. Think twice about single England.
Day in, day out
Now England have won 10-0, or near enough? You can’t wash your strip without dooming the team. In fact you can’t risk taking it off. Sure, if you had replicas of your replica, but at £75 a go you can’t afford one for every day of the week. Even your frothing fervour has hard, financially-imposed, it’s-not-Brexit’s-fault limits.
Everywhere you go
The pub is your catwalk in an England shirt, but don’t let it end there. The street, the office, weddings, funerals, job interviews and while presenting the Classic FM Awards; it’s beautiful everywhere and f**k anyone who disagrees. This isn’t like dressing as Iron Man outside of Comic-Con. The whole country stands with you.
The England shirt is very basic bellend. To level up, pair it with a £12 flagon of Budweiser, England flags a-fluttering from the slightly open windows of your car that let sleet in, and the mot juste: a flare up the arse, burning end outwards. Now you’re ready for the front page of the Daily Star.
At a Wales game
Fashion’s about context and contrast, so the best and worst place to wear your gleaming shirt is at a Wales game in a Wales pub. Pop along, loudly order a lager, order a Merthyr Tydfil Uber to your local A&E and arrive in a pulped heap with a few less teeth. Unless Wales win a week on Tuesday, in which case the locals will luxuriate in your loser presence.