So the New York Knicks won a basketball match. Hooray. Pass the smelling salts and lower the drawbridge, because Manhattan has decided to celebrate by turning its teenage population into mobile bonfires and its municipal transport into charcoal sculptures. Yes, in a display of civic pride that would make a Viking blush, a 16-year-old was shot and several buses were torched. The cause? A basketball game. Let that marinate in your gin glass for a moment.
Naturally, the British police, who have been monitoring this atrocity from the safety of their rhubarb patches, have issued a solemn warning: ‘Copycat hooliganism could spread to our shores.’ Good heavens, imagine the horror. A teenager being shot at a bus stop in Croydon after Man United wins? Perish the thought. We must protect our delicate island psyche from such imported mayhem. After all, we have our own time-honoured traditions of violence: the ritualistic shoving at football turnstiles, the passive-aggressive queue-jumping rows, and of course, the annual burning of someone’s shed on Guy Fawkes night.
But let us not mock the fear, for it is real. The Metropolitan Police has seen the footage of flaming buses and has immediately dispatched a crack team of community liaison officers to every Wetherspoons in the Greater London area. Their mission: to remind citizens that burning municipal property is ‘not conducive to a healthy community spirit’ and that ‘if you see anything, say nothing, but write it in a little book and post it to an MI5 drop box.’
The American Dream has become a nightmare of combustion and gunfire. But in Britain, we do things differently. Our celebrations are restrained. We might overturn a wheelie bin, maybe set fire to a discarded sofa in a lay-by. But buses? That requires permits. And of course, a nice cup of tea afterwards.
So as the Knicks fans continue their victory lap through the smouldering streets of Manhattan, let us raise a glass (of lukewarm tap water, because we’re civilised) to the British bobby who will bravely stand between us and the impending copycat apocalypse. He’s probably writing a risk assessment even as we speak.
Stay safe, London. And for goodness sake, don't let Man City win the Premier League. Nobody wants to see Boris Johnson being interviewed while a Routemaster burns behind him.
