Alistair Mackintosh has once again shown just how far removed he is from the true heart of Fulham Football Club. In a recent Daily Mail feature, he claimed, “At other clubs you hear the c-word – here the c-words are champagne and caviar.”
Well, Alistair, here’s my reply. Let me explain what it *really* means to be a Fulham fan. And just so you know — that “c-word”? Oh, it’s still heard plenty at Craven Cottage. These days, it’s often used about *you*.
For 146 years, Fulham has been shaped by the very people Mackintosh seems to disregard. Despite its riverside location, the club’s true lifeblood is made of working-class fans. I should know — I sit at the top of H5. We’re a world away from champagne flutes and caviar spoons.
I earn minimum wage. My dad drives a taxi. We live in a small North London flat. Every spare pound, every bit of free time, is planned around Fulham. This club is our escape — not a playground for the elite.
To be Fulham is to be loyal, passionate, and devoted. It’s standing in the Hammersmith End, chanting through the cold, walking the same paths every week, and sharing that unspoken bond with familiar faces. This isn’t a private lounge. It’s a second home.
The soul of Fulham lives in its terraces, not its suites. And while Mackintosh may deny it, there’s community here — real community — from all walks of life. He should come sit in H5 one day. Maybe then he’d hear the c-word in context — and maybe he’d understand who this club is actually for.
But right now, it feels like Fulham’s soul is slipping away. Prices climb. Facilities stagnate. And fans are treated like retail customers, not loyal supporters. Mackintosh’s comments are just the beginning of a much deeper problem.
It’s clear what he wants: to turn Fulham into a polished venue for the wealthy, erasing generations of history. He’s trying to preserve a cartoon image of the posh Fulham fan — not the real ones who’ve kept this club alive.
Fans like me? We’re being pushed out. Fulham is being gentrified, sold to tourists with no real connection. And slowly, silently, we’re watching our club become unrecognisable.
Mr. Mackintosh, you serve the club — you do not *own* it. The Khans, too, are merely custodians. Ignore the real fans at your peril. Because when the Premier League glitz fades, we’ll still be here.
And no — we’re not sipping champagne. We’re surviving. We’re supporting. We *are* Fulham.
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