There is no appetite among the board of Sunderland Football Club to discipline David Moyes despite him threatening to slap a reporter.
There is no appetite in the Labour Party leadership to expel Ken Livingstone despite him claiming Adolf Hitler helped establish Israel.
And there is no appetite in anyone to stop Bashar al-Assad launching sarin gas attacks on children despite the fact they’re suffocating on their own mucus.
Instead, there is an appetite to argue at length about Easter eggs, their derivation, purpose, and imagined religious meanings.
There is an appetite to condemn in no uncertain terms an opponent that can’t elect a female leader, and then to shamelessly kowtow to Saudi abusers, to laughingly compare knees in a constitutional battle, and to hold hands with a sexist braggart.
There is an appetite to chew down a 10-course meal of hateful s*** because the alternative of not eating s*** is, apparently, unpalatable.
This is not a recent phenomenon.
In 2015 Jose Mourinho ordered a doctor to ignore her Hippocratic oath, shouted “daughter of a whore” at her, and refused to say sorry even after his club settled a multi-million pound unfair dismissal claim.
The men of football rarely apologise and never change simply because they’re not made to. There’s always a gutless coward who’ll say it’s fine.
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