JOEL GRIFFETT

Despite only being born in Cornwall and having no deeper ancestral connection to the UK’s forgotten fifth nation I did, as I always do, my patriotic duty to Kernow during last Sunday’s final of the 2024 European Championship: I supported whoever England were playing.

I was the only one (there is after all, greater zeal in the convert).

After England scraped past the Netherlands in the semi-final, most of my friends who had come round to watch the game went to the pub to celebrate. I went to bed after trying in vain to buy a Spanish football jersey. Given it was unlikely to arrive in time for Sunday’s match I kept hold of my money, but on Sunday morning I awoke feeling extremely mischievous. Sports Direct in Truro had new Spanish football jerseys in stock for £35, about three times the price of the one I found used on Vinted. I went downstairs, made a coffee and deliberated whether or not to waste money I didn’t have on something I didn’t need, purely to annoy my friends and all the strangers I would encounter later that evening in Falmouth. Eventually I decided against it, for purely financial reasons, but when I arrived at the pub to see the beer garden absolutely swamped with England fans I wished I had.

Like one sane man stuck in a lunatic asylum I stayed stoic and expressionless when England equalised, pretending not to care that I’d just been showered in beer. Even though England lost as I’d hoped, it was still a slightly sombre moment as the mass exodus of heartbroken fans began. I realised there and then that Cornwall would never be independent, not in my lifetime at least.

To have one’s cake and eat it too is a thoroughly hackneyed expression, but this best describes the dichotomy of the Cornish/English hybrid mindset. Behind my right shoulder I overheard someone say something like ‘I’m proper Cornish, but I’m English when the football is on,’ before kick-off and I couldn’t help but smirk, this perfectly captures the near-hypocrisy of this kind of Cornishness. There must have been others across Kernow cheering for Spain that evening, but right in front of the massive outdoor screen in Falmouth, I felt like the only one.

If you truly want an independent Cornwall, or at the very least, one with increased autonomy you cannot maintain this Schrodinger’s box style bipolarity – you either accept your Englishness or cease to support England entirely.  While Wales and Scotland are not completely independent countries, you’d never catch any self-respecting Welsh or Scottish person supporting England – they have their own national teams and (despite being shit at football) they are eligible for qualification for the Euros and the World Cup.

As the final whistle blew my friend turned to me and said, ‘I’m Cornish anyway,’ after cheering all game for England – his smug face showed the irony was not lost on him, yet his prior enthusiasm undermined the point he tried to make. He was referencing this meme below (credit: Jam and Meme).

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/CFfvQEBTy6qZiWE3/

If not England, then who?

Thus the question of who to support arises; if you wish to be a contrarian and annoy your English friends you can simply support whomever England are playing against. Alternatively you can support Kernow, members of the CONIFA (Confederation of Independent Football Associations) since 2018, who play against other similar stateless peoples, territories and ethnic and linguistic minorities that are not recognised by FIFA or UEFA. The CONIFA World Cup takes place in Kurdistan next summer and Cornwall have qualified for the tournament. Road trip from Kernow to Kurdistan anyone?

Perhaps I’m overthinking it, but at some point the irony of saying you’re Cornish yet supporting England must cease for Cornwall to progress towards autonomy and perhaps even independence. Judging by what I’ve seen throughout the Euros, that is a long way off, and the cynic sat deep within my soul tells me it will never change.