It is definitely, definitely not the case that the teams in La Liga are better. Photo: David Ramos/Getty Images
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Why are we messing up at top-flight football? I have all the answers

Champion of Europe? Not these days. Hunter Davies explains some of the reasons England aren't quite the footballing force they once were.

Why are we so bad? At this time of the year, England used to have four teams left in the quarter-finals of the Euro championship, two or three at the semis stage, sometimes an all-England final. This year: nothing, nada, disparu. Our four world-class Premiership clubs are long goners. The great brains of the football world have been wrestling with this most vexatious question, muttering into their fashionable beards that it’s a big ask, but now we have some answers...

We are not bad. It’s just that we are in the presence of greatness. Living at this time are some players of genius, so bow down before Messi, let us praise Ronaldo and let’s be grateful that our rough, simple lads get to play on the same turf, even if they spend most of the game lying down, the ball having passed through their legs, again. For last Sunday’s Clásico between Real Madrid and Barça, I stood during the whole game. Respect.

The pendulum will swing. It can’t go on like this. These bad spells never last long. Look at the England national team – why, it was only yesterday they won the World Cup, hold on, correction, 49 years, OK, forget England: that particular pendulum has somehow got stuck on the marker saying “Shite”, so we’ll move on...

Too many bloomin’ foreigners everywhere. They come over here, take all our street-sweeping jobs, provide brilliant service in Pret a Manger and sleep with all our English girls, so how can our lads get in any of our Prem teams? Have you noticed how they arrive in the Prem with big reputations, come to save us, show us how, yet the moment they put on the shirts of Man United, Man City or Spurs, they prove to be rubbish? A plot, obviously. “Are you a double agent in disguise?” they now sing on the Shelf at White Hart Lane.

Too well paid. How can they concentrate when they’re worrying about their HSBC account in Jersey, their five gardeners, three brand managers, two lawyers, two accountants and three French hens bought for tax reasons?

Not paid well enough. They’re being really horrid to Raheem Sterling at present, refusing him £150k a week. Liverpool are just so mean, just because he’s young and inexperienced. Why, it’s ages since he was in short trousers. How can he do his best if he’s worrying about where his next Bentley is coming from?

And the next haircut. People go on about rugby players not needing to bother, but come on, they look pathetic, bits all over the shop. Our footballers do have standards. Having that sharp parting made fashionable by Giroud is not easy. Fans don’t realise it takes surgery to get the line right. And a quiff at the front, or plastered up in the air, as the players do at Newcastle. You need a cool cut to hold your head up in a Prem dressing room.

Surrounding the ref. They also go on about rugger players never arguing with the ref. How craven is that? Far better to have a co-ordinated verbal assault on the ref, all the players going blue in the face. Takes ages in training, which is why they have little time for working on all that soppy stuff they do in Europe, such as passing the ball.

Easier in Europe. Oh yes, it is. Bayern Munich, 10 points ahead in Germany, often field only five players, sometimes just the wives of the first team, and still they hammer everyone. In Spain, Real Madrid and Barça are level pegging, but down at the bottom, dear me, it’s like a Sunday league, or playing Carlisle United. In our wonderful Prem, richest, most competitive in the world, it’s war every week.

The general election. Our lads have been distracted all season, worrying about the result. Once that’s over, you’ll see.

England are ahead of the game. In everything, being an advanced civilisation. Did we not have the Industrial Revolution first, and suffer the consequences first? Did we not give cricket, rugby and football to the world, then politely stand back while others did them better? See, we are the winners, really. Calm down...

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 27 March 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Easter Double 2015

Photo: Getty
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Leaving the cleaning to someone else makes you happier? Men have known that for centuries

Research says avoiding housework is good for wellbeing, but women have rarely had the option.

If you want to be happy, there is apparently a trick: offload the shitwork onto somebody else. Hire cleaner. Get your groceries delivered. Have someone else launder your sheets. These are the findings published by the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, but it’s also been the foundation of our economy since before we had economics. Who does the offloading? Men. Who does the shitwork? Women.

Over the last 40 years, female employment has risen to almost match the male rate, but inside the home, labour sticks stubbornly to old patterns: men self-report doing eight hours of housework a week, while women slog away for 13. When it comes to caring for family members, the difference is even more stark: men do ten hours, and women 23.

For your average heterosexual couple with kids, that means women spend 18 extra hours every week going to the shops, doing the laundry, laying out uniform, doing the school run, loading dishwashers, organising doctors' appointments, going to baby groups, picking things up, cooking meals, applying for tax credits, checking in on elderly parents, scrubbing pots, washing floors, combing out nits, dusting, folding laundry, etcetera etcetera et-tedious-cetera.

Split down the middle, that’s nine hours of unpaid work that men just sit back and let women take on. It’s not that men don’t need to eat, or that they don’t feel the cold cringe of horror when bare foot meets dropped food on a sticky kitchen floor. As Katrine Marçal pointed out in Who Cooked Adam Smiths Dinner?, men’s participation in the labour market has always relied on a woman in the background to service his needs. As far as the majority of men are concerned, domestic work is Someone Else’s Problem.

And though one of the study authors expressed surprise at how few people spend their money on time-saving services given the substantial effect on happiness, it surely isn’t that mysterious. The male half of the population has the option to recruit a wife or girlfriend who’ll do all this for free, while the female half faces harsh judgement for bringing cover in. Got a cleaner? Shouldn’t you be doing it yourself rather than outsourcing it to another woman? The fact that men have even more definitively shrugged off the housework gets little notice. Dirt apparently belongs to girls.

From infancy up, chores are coded pink. Looking on the Toys “R” Us website, I see you can buy a Disney Princess My First Kitchen (fuchsia, of course), which is one in the eye for royal privilege. Suck it up, Snow White: you don’t get out of the housekeeping just because your prince has come. Shop the blue aisle and you’ll find the Just Like Home Workshop Deluxe Carry Case Workbench – and this, precisely, is the difference between masculine and feminine work. Masculine work is productive: it makes something, and that something is valuable. Feminine work is reproductive: a cleaned toilet doesn’t stay clean, the used plates stack up in the sink.

The worst part of this con is that women are presumed to take on the shitwork because we want to. Because our natures dictate that there is a satisfaction in wiping an arse with a woman’s hand that men could never feel and money could never match. That fiction is used to justify not only women picking up the slack at home, but also employers paying less for what is seen as traditional “women’s work” – the caring, cleaning roles.

It took a six-year legal battle to secure compensation for the women Birmingham council underpaid for care work over decades. “Don’t get me wrong, the men do work hard, but we did work hard,” said one of the women who brought the action. “And I couldn’t see a lot of them doing what we do. Would they empty a commode, wash somebody down covered in mess, go into a house full of maggots and clean it up? But I’ll tell you what, I would have gone and done a dustman’s job for the day.”

If women are paid less, they’re more financially dependent on the men they live with. If you’re financially dependent, you can’t walk out over your unfair housework burden. No wonder the settlement of shitwork has been so hard to budge. The dream, of course, is that one day men will sack up and start to look after themselves and their own children. Till then, of course women should buy happiness if they can. There’s no guilt in hiring a cleaner – housework is work, so why shouldn’t someone get paid for it? One proviso: every week, spend just a little of the time you’ve purchased plotting how you’ll overthrow patriarchy for good.

Sarah Ditum is a journalist who writes regularly for the Guardian, New Statesman and others. Her website is here.