For the uninitiated, before international football matches, the two teams line up and the National anthems of the respective countries are played. Usually sung with gusto by the crowds, een if they do firget the words halfway through. The players are no better. Most mumble the words, a couple belt them out like their lives depended on it, some sing the first lines and then struggle with the pace. But hey, footballers aren't paid to sing.. 

This all brings me to the subject of Gary Neville. A right back of some quality for Manchester United, he has been capped 85 tiems for England. And every time he lines up before a match for the national anthem, when the other players are singing the wrong words with feeling, he keeps his head defiantly bowed. He doesnt sing, he doesnt look up, he stays that way until the song is over and the match is about to start. 

This could be for a couple of reasons. England's (Britain's technically) national anthem is God Save The Queen, and not the Sex Postols version. Thus, it is less a song about national pride that about religion and the monarchy. Therefore, the reason Gary Neville objects is likely to be either his republican beliefs, or atheism. To sing along, he feels, would be compromising his integrity. 

Neville has made a name for himself down the years as being a staunch advocate of player's rights, and is heavily involved in the PFA. This is a top class international player, likely a multi-millionaire, taking time to defend the rights of those who play Conference football for expenses. Here we have a footbller who uses his position to benefit others, who holds political and personal opinions, and who is not afraid to express them in front of millions of people, no matter the consequences. In other countries he would be an anti-authoritarian hero. Here he is ridiculed as a "shop steward" (It seems deeply unfashionable for people to care anymore) and criticised on television for not showing respect. There are many things wrong with football, and whilst this is by no means the worst or most prevalent, it highlughts the narrow, petty minded attitudes that are afecting both the game and our culture at large. In the meantime, keep your head bowed, Gary.

Tags: england, football, manchester united, neville, sex pistols

I stand at the edge of the clearing, and stand alone. My companions are there, yet they stay a respectful distance behind me. I alone must endure this.

This is where it happened. Nine months ago, at the height of the troubles. That I am able to stand here shows how much has changed in so little a time, but the grass in the clearing has barely had time to recover from the blood that was spilled on that day. 

I kneel gently on the edge of the grass and offer a prayer to Asuryan. A prayer for forgiveness. I failed them, you see. They were my charges and I failed them. 

We were heading on a pilgrimage to the edge of the Silverbark forest, where Asuryan long ago made manifest and quelled a dissentionbrewing between humans and elves. Understandably, this is an integral part of the teaching for Water Kindrae such as myself, and the five charges I had taken with me. Five novices from the Temple of Sacred Light, each eager to prove themselves worthy in the lands of the Lord. So young. Such a waste.

We knew - that is to say, I knew, that travelling through Draegar would be fraught with danger- the conflict was still fresh in the mind, and large pockets of resistance fighters were aiming in their misguided way to reclaim the throne; as if the path of victory could be littered with bodies. Might does not, and never shall, make right. 

Two Fire Kindrae had accompanied us on this trip as guardians, as being an Elf in certain parts of Draegar was heard to be unwise. I paid little heed to the rumours; I put my faith in the basic kindness and decency of people. How wrong I was. 

Standing here, I can almost see where they stood when I last saw them, before I abandoned them. Is this merely memory, or is Asuryan playing a cruel trick? Accis by the fire, first to wake as always. Karsh and Asuma, taking a walk by the trees. Kiyo making some breakfast. I can see them, even now!

We had chosen this clearing because it was safe. Far away from the two main roads, a place so secluded we could build a fire and it would not get seen. I have been taking groups of students on this pilgrimage for almost eighty years. Every time I have feared I would fail, and one of my charges would meet Asuryan before their time. Nothing remotely bad happened. Things went so catastophically wrong here that my only resolution is that this was Asuryan's punishment, and for the past nine months I have searched the bitter recesses of my soul, looking for some reason I had given him to punish me so. I have none, I am far from perfect but i deserve a fraction of the torment I have endured. My only other thought, the one that creeps up through the back of my mind if I am not careful, is that Asuryan had no control over the actions of those men. That he watches, and punishes, but cannot interfere. That i worship an impotent god. 

Kiyo and I left the camp early that morning. The others were left to dismantle the tents, and be ready to set off on our return. We were gone less than one hour. 

I went, in my vanity, to visit the grave of my dear departed wife Constance. Vain, because I believed that her spirit desired to be talked at by an ageing pacifist. After disease took her I buried her at the foot of her favourite place in all Draegar, Capricorn Hill. I go back not nearly as often as I should, and now the place has doubly painful memories. 

I, to my shame, did not even pay my respects properly that morning. I couldn't even get that right. The gravestone had been knocked over, the Elven inscriptions desecrated, and anger filled me. Somebody had torn apart a sacred place, simply because they could! This was not the Draegar I remembered. I marched back to camp, callously thinking that this place had reached it's nadir. 

They were children, when it comes to it. Not by short-termist human standards, but there wasn't one of them over fifty. Students, keen to learn the ways of their absent god. Blasphemy? No. he was not there for them on that day. 

I can only surmise what happened, as when we got back it was too late. A group of resistance soldiers, I have no idea how many, must have stumbled upon the camp. I could be charitable towards the soldiers and say that they must have mistaken the students for Royalist aggressors. But I won't. They saw six undefended Elves, and their bloodlust was aroused. Low, dirty, base creatures. They slaughtered every last one. 

The scene when I returned was unimaginable. Blood poured everywhere, seeping into the ground. My students lying dead, disbelieving looks on their faces, as if even at the end they simply could not imagine anybody being so barbaric. Two were gouged in the back, killed whilst running away. Accis was missing his right ear, taken presumably for sport. A human in resistance clothing lay dead, killed probably by Aurlon before he was felled. Butchery. 

In some of my darker moments I have tortured myself, wondering what would have happened had I arrived five minutes earlier. Would I have been able to save them? Even some, even one, to bring a small amount of joy into a horrific day. But there is no need. They were long dead before we returned. 

Kiyo wanted to charge off and find the bastards who did this. It pains me to say it, but I had to stop him. His senseless death would bring no honour.

Time seemed unreal. In a matter of minutes eary dawn became noon. I don't rmember speaking in all that time. My thoughts were a blur. I assume I blessed the bodies and cremated them, as they were gone when I came to my senses, but I don't remember doing a thing. Eventually we headed back North, back to safety in the Elven isles, where the world made sense. 

Looking over the clearing now, it is hard to believe such an atrocity ever happened in so serene a place. My world has not been the same since my worst fear made manifest. Permanently on the road with a loose-knit group of aid workers, encountering creatures i thought were myth, and seeing the Elven isles descend into a chaos worthy of human government. Asuryan has a strange way of showing his love. As if to mock me, the clearing is bathed in brilliant sunlight. It is all I can do to turn away.  

Tags: calethal, cuckoos nest, worst nightmare