No, it is not coming home. The last Euros it nearly did but thanks to some Italian wisdom, a cup was lost, and a bet of blonde hair dye was avoided. Thank you, Bukayo Saka. On the grand stage, England has something of a hot streak for bottling it and Three Lions, the infectious and irritating song from The Lightning Seeds and comedic duo David Baddiel and Frank Skinner, knows it. An effective realism blossoms from the faux optimism of a song which knows it is fighting a losing battle – an embarrassing return to the pitch where, after flogging the best of these national players, the chances of winning are as slim and sickly as they always are. No chance. But brace yourselves for nothing but this track being belted from boozers up and down the country.
Credit to The Lightning Seeds they have a dastardly quality with this one. As memorable as the intoxicating earworms needed for light nationalism. A song which has somehow captured the attention of this generation, where embarrassment about the country is synonymous with pride for its sporting achievements. There is probably less to Three Lions than is projected onto it. At the end of it, there is a “well, football is football” attitude to it which is both vile yet oddly satisfying. Repetitive drivel which cannot help but be loved. Is it hypocritical to love this song? No. Our generation hopes to do something, anything, to distract from the slaughter and horror of the country we now live in. Like the generation above and the one above, there is little to love and lots to hate, and sport is one of the few unifiers. It is not all positive. With this unity comes a tribal hate but something, anything, must get us over the line.
Two middle-class comedians and a band who now remain reliant on international football for relevancy are not how the revolution is set to go down. But here they stand and if the day comes when Three Lions plays out in an arena where England lifts the cup, there will be a day which marks the end of this song. Hopefully Sweet Caroline, too. But until then we linger on and listen in to this summery pub culture encapsulation. A period when it did not cost £6 for a pint of Guinness or £7.90 for a double vodka. Three Lions has a simple and upbeat bounce to it which keeps the optimism whirring in a period of complete and devastating reality taking effect. There is a self-mockery in the nationalism at the heart of this one which is now lacking in modern listeners because subtlety is a thing of the past. A generation around for the release of this song are now those who remain ridiculed by it.
Some will hold this in with the likes of the Oasis and Blur chart wars or Spice Girls as a sign of the Cool Britannia era. There is an overarching embarrassment now connected with Three Lions which we shake off once a month every two years. A nostalgia pop which gets played out every international tournament. Now, it feels like a self-flagellation than anything truly believed. Three Lions and the fans who unironically believe in the context of the song in the modern day are the reasons an English victory in a World Cup or Euros competition will not be a long-needed and bittersweet win but an annoying realisation of amplified cultural odds. A titan-like achievement of sporting triumph used as a tool to massage the grim realities of the world around us and how harsh a time it is. Having said that, if Harry Kane slots one away and breaks his cup curse, get the shots in.
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