Legends of The Firm by Cass Pennant and Martin King was originally published in 2005, under the name Terrace Legends. This year, it has resurfaced with its unquestionably catchier title, but still with exactly the same content that earned it 34 ratings on goodreads.com. This humble number effectively means that only the closest and dearest friends and family of the two writers bothered to leave ratings. Ratings that averaged at 3.35 stars.
Having read it after picking it up at an airport, it really begs the question why someone would drag this inexcusable shitfest out of some bin that hasn’t been emptied for twelve years and then re-publish it. Incidentally, this has also lead me to my final verdict on books I discover in airport bookshops.
On the cover, it says that The Independent has called it “The most terrifying book ever written about soccer violence”. Let’s take this notion seriously for a bit despite the writer’s usage of the S word. The only way that this is even remotely accurate would be if we’re talking about the permanent brain damages clearly sustained by the two ex-hooligan authors. This barely has any right to call itself a book at all – it is a questionnaire with 29 responses. Is there room in the world for in-depth interviews and conversations with former hooligans, casuals and other trouble-making football enthusiasts? Yes. But it is not this book, which asks the same series of questions of everyone, including what sort of clothes they like and what their favourite band is. Those are in there, I’m not joking.
One of the many fundamental flaws of this is of course that people who consider repeated blows to the head to constitute an enjoyable day out might not be the best at expressing their inner workings. It would take a top interviewer to ask the right follow-up questions and make the right inferences. But the interviewers are no strangers to head trauma themselves, and consistently just move on to the next question on their pre-written list when the opportunity for a good follow-up presents itself. The result is 28 interviews with only laconic responses, and one Derby cunt whose dumb monologues make for almost one tenth of the entire book. And I want to be clear that I’m not using the word “cunt” lightly here. This guy, in addition to being a violent idiot who apparently gives long, self-important answers in interviews, blames the Hillsborough tragedy of 1989 on the Liverpool supporters, a narrative that has been thoroughly debunked. Hence, I will maintain my right to describe him in the aforementioned 4-lettered manner, and encourage anyone else to do the same.
If a seven-year-old with slightly reduced cognitive abilities accidentally ended up at a university, this book is basically what the appendix of his dissertation would look like. A series of uninteresting questions not explored or discussed at all, simply a transcript of awkward conversations with seemingly random questions.
However, both interviewers and interviewees consist of big, scary men with a proven propensity for violence, and hence none of the editors dared touch any of the text before it went to printing. So the inherent cowardice of the type of nerds who end up in the publishing industry would account for why the book was allowed to violate the paper it was printed on in 2005. Why publish it again? As I pondered this mystery, studying the cover, I realised that the answer was quite literally staring me in the face. This is what meets you when you, naive and uninformed, pick up Legends of The Firm:
A few yeas ago, former policeman James Bannon wrote a great book following the true story of his life undercover in the Millwall hooligans environment, and the subsequent development of blurring the line, split loyalties and identity crisis. It looked like this:
The snakes at John Blake Publishing, whose spinelessness caused the waste of ink that is Legends of The Firm to taint the world of published literature in the first place, took a look at Bannon’s work, correctly assessed that it’s a phenomenal book about hooliganism and football culture, concluded that they could somehow piggyback off it, then called their legal team to discuss the specifics of plagiarism laws in Britain. The result being a book that presumably is bought only by myself and like-minded Pavlov’s dogs and slaves to associations who read Running with The Firm and really liked it. Not only is this lazy, it is dangerous. I am mortified at the idea that my friends and acquaintances might stumble into WHSmith at Gatwick and buy Legends of The Firm based on my frequent and adamant praise of Running with The Firm. Which brings me to the main reason for why I’ve written this post, two and a half months after my previous one – I want this review to be unequivocal proof that I have not recommended anyone to read 29 daft questionnaire responses from violent morons who still somehow manage to be unbearably boring cover to cover.