Barnsley on the second Saturday in February, and your author's head thick with the toxins of the night before.
Four, maybe five, drinks had been consumed in the evening, with a glass of neat fire-water truncating each end; and I had paid the price.
There was a long, yawning gap between mid-morning and the game kicking off, and I didn't know what to do with myself. Any diversion to escape the terrible drum-beat in my skull would be gratefully-received, overhung disgrace that I am.
I walked up the main street and noticed that the British National Party were out in force again: here was the distraction I had been waiting for. Not that I am brave enough to even yell abuse, let alone ambush them, but I could pace up and down glaring at them menacingly. Hail the political animal who won't countenance getting a good kicking for his beliefs.
Barnsley is a political hotbed at present: the town centre MP was jailed last week for falsely claiming expenses, and that event triggered a by-election. Labour have always been strong here, and yet, as ever, the far-right are hopeful of the breakthrough which will legitimise them - a first, monumental, seat in the House of Commons.
It won't happen, not here, and not yet, but a relatively poor northern town like it is the most probable site of the BNP's big moment. I have wondered before how we can head them off, and I was soon to find the answer.
Outlawing the party is not the answer. It would kill off once and for all the ambition to enter mainstream political debate, but it would not curtail the wishes of their supporters - in fact, the sense of injustice would strengthen allegiance. Instead, holding their policies up to scrutiny and dismantling them should be the method. Responding to hatred with repression does not rid us of hate.
Accept that they are here to stay, and then formulate an answer. At the far end of the same street was the response - a softly-spoken pagan lady representing Unite Against Fascism, who had turned up with a handful of others to swim against the tide. In the 15 minutes I spent with her, people approached her to vocalise their fears. One had never met a nice Muslim; another said he would vote BNP because he had been told sharia law was the norm in Leicester these days; another said the Muslims are trying to ban Christmas and he wanted to uphold traditional values.
Without condemning, the pagan lady tried to debunk each argument in her unthreatening way, and those she spoke with went away with their beliefs shaken - but not fatally undermined. It will take many more of her ilk to weaken the base of a minority party which receives more attention than it should, and it is not enough to torpedo the BNP in the by-election and then return to normal.
Yet political involvement is a tough ask. Only half the population go out to vote in a General Election, so motivating people to give their time is often a wasted request. Extreme parties can occupy this vacuum, and there is little will to stop them. I now must decide whether to join the anti-fascists in a march on Saturday, or remain inert myself.
It ought not to be even a question, but it is. Your cowardly author needs to make a positive decision for once. Why it is open to debate still, I shall speak of later.
