Move over Che, there’s a new Guy in town

Iconography of protest gets a 17th century upgrade.

Whether it is used to issue ultimatums to Mexican drug cartels or for demanding economic equality in financial districts the world over, the image of Guy Fawkes has become synonymous with 21st century popular protest.

Take the cover of last week's New Statesman for instance - under the headline "Young, angry and... right?" a Guy Fawkes-masked protester stares directly at the camera; the symbol of Western disillusionment is the face of a 17th century English Catholic, executed for high-treason and popularised by the Hollywood version of an 80s English comic book. How has this come to be?

The answer lies more in events of 2006 than 1605, when Warner Brothers released V for Vendetta, a film adaptation of Alan Moore's graphic novel of the same name. Set in Britain in a dystopian future, the film's hero adopts the Fawkes mask in his attempt to bring down a corrupt totalitarian regime. It culminates with the destruction of the Houses of Parliament, set to Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture.

This Saturday much of the country will celebrate Fawkes's foiling, by setting of fireworks and burning effigies of him, while protestors across the world adorn his mask.

Although some wearers of the mask are sure to be drawn to the powerful imagery of this archetypal anti-establishment figure, there are probably equally as many who just think it looks cool. After all it's not like everyone who wears a Che Guevara T Shirt is a bona fide guerrilla. Perhaps it would be churlish to suggest that the Occupy movement's association with the image is ill-advised given that Fawkes was in essence the scapegoat of a failed revolution.

And much like Che, Fawkes has seen his visage commoditised to such an extent that if he wasn't dead, he wouldn't be able to show his face among any self-respecting revolutionaries.

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times