Bears

I was kind of thinking of going to the forthcoming rugby union game between Bristol Bears and Worcester on 6th November. ‘£15 for members’, came the blurb, meaning Bristol Sport members, a company that includes in its number Bristol City (1982) Ltd. Hmm, not sure I want to be a part of Bristol Sport if the 82-ers are part of the membership. Still, if it’s only £15 for members, presumably they’d welcome a few quid from the lower orders, who can’t can’t afford season tickets, but would also spend cash in the bars and food outlets. But no. The cheap seats for the riff-raff start at an eye-watering £32.

“Eye-watering £32?” you might say. “That’s nothing.” And so it is if £32 is a small sum of money for you. This will sound ridiculous to many people but when I see £32, I see it as a lot of money for anything. A small fortune for me begins at £50. Brought up in poverty – there: I’ve said it – by my mum, a lone parent, I know and value the colour of money. And I don’t like, and literally hate, being ripped off.

Actually, Bristol Bears probably aren’t ripping me off, not really. In order to pay the wages of millionaire rugby union superstars, or possibly to subsidise the astronomically loss-making Bristol City (1982) Ltd, maybe Bristol Fucking Sport feels it can justify the £32 cheap seats for rabble like me. They do very nicely thank you with the ticket prices they charge now and have no need nor desire to attract people from lower income demographics.

So, if it’s on, I’ll watch Bristol v Worcester on BT Sport, unless I have something better to do like wash my hair or clean the toilet, not necessarily in that order. And just think: if there was a Premier League football team at Ashton Gate, I doubt that £32 would cover the cost of a matchday programme and a pie.