Football, hooliganism, and a 41-year-old law
Years on from Partygate, drinking culture is still alive and well in Westminster. Recently, PM Andy Burnham backed reforming the Sporting Events (Control of Alcohol etc.) Act 1985, 41 years since the government decided that the consumption of alcohol in sight of the football pitch needed to end. The legislation was introduced amid a wider hooliganism crisis in the sport during the 1980s, particularly following the Heysel Stadium Disaster in Belgium, where 39 people died before the kick-off of the European Cup Final between Liverpool FC and Juventus FC in 1985. After four decades, Burnham has put forward a rethink, claiming the legislation “dates to an era where football was very different”.
This should, perhaps, come as no surprise. Burnham’s first few months in office have been littered with campaign material about reviving pub culture in Britain. This is a PM who wants to establish whether there is any problem facing the British public that cannot be solved with cheaper pints at the pub.
In fairness to Burnham, the scale of the disorder seen in the 1980s is very different to modern-day football hooliganism. Still, it would be misleading to argue that this has been a direct result of banning alcohol from stadium seats. Extensive CCTV in many top-tier grounds, routine police segregation of supporters at contentious fixtures, and the development of intelligence-led policing were all tactics used to tackle hooliganism.
However, there is an awkward question for those who look to defend the status quo: is alcohol still the root of the problem that the legislation was designed to solve? Football disorder has certainly not disappeared; the most common type of football-related arrest is for public disorder (38%), and 17% of arrests during the 2025-26 domestic season were related to the possession of Class A drugs. Alcohol offences accounted for only 7%, down from 34% in 2010-11. If anything, it appears that the modern football hooligan has acquired a more varied toolkit.
None of this proves that putting beer back into stands would be a sensible idea, and regular match-goers have expressed conflicting views online. Anyone who’s watched a video of pints flying at Croydon Boxpark during an England game will not want that replicated in the stands. The fact that alcohol only accounts for a relatively small proportion of football arrests tells us nothing definitive about what would happen if the ban were lifted. However, if we are fighting 2026 hooliganism with legislation designed in 1985, perhaps it is worth asking whether the law has truly kept pace with the game.
Burnham’s proposed trial
Fortunately, Burnham isn’t proposing that each supporter is handed a free crate of Stella Artois as an extra perk of their season ticket. He has suggested a trial in the men’s game, following a successful trial in the Women’s Super League (WSL) during the 2025-26 season, where “the average score for the feeling of safety amongst match-goers was rated at 9.4 out of 10″ according to a report from the Football Supporters’ Association in January. YouGov and the WSL reported distinct demographics among English Premier League and WSL fans, noting a “50/50 gender split” in the WSL and that “67% of English Premier League Fans are male.” Compound alcohol consumption and reports in 2024 that incidents of sexist abuse have impacted “over half of women” at football matches: more booze for fans doesn’t promise to calm things down at games. Presumably, the first steps of the trial will involve giving one particularly calm Championship supporter a pint and seeing if he attempts to assault a steward.
The idea doesn’t seem out of place in Burnham’s broader strategy. In July, Burnham announced support for pubs, clubs, and live-music venues with a 20% cut in business rates. Burnham has been extremely deliberate about the imagery surrounding it, announcing the policy from a pub, pint in hand. Furthering his image, he posted a video announcing what he’s delivered, alongside a showcase of his pool skills at his new No 10. North site. His support for pubs extends beyond the economic aspects — he seems to regard pubs as a cornerstone of British culture and civilisation. Who can blame him?
The PM behind the bar
British pubs do provide an invaluable service to the population, offering people a place to drink, catch up with friends, or announce their latest public policy. Burnham is constructing a very recognisable political persona, and we should all be wary of him appearing to be our mate. At what point does his support of British pub culture transcend a private interest and become part of his personal political brand?
Maybe it’s a communications masterstroke, because it has allowed him to talk about economics without him appearing completely uninteresting, something that his predecessor struggled with. A cut in business rates set to save each pub an estimated £1,100 per year is fairly dry reading. His repeated appearances, notably discussing his favourite pub snacks with Chancellor John Healey, show a tangible presence for the everyday citizen: this Prime Minister is protecting your pub. Burnham’s politics increasingly seem to be working through familiar cultural institutions.
There is something impressively coherent about Burnham’s image. Having been photographed recently at Everton’s ground, the Hill-Dickinson Stadium, with the Canadian PM and former Governor of the Bank of England, Mark Carney, I can’t help but feel that Burnham will push for this legislation because he cannot bear to watch football without a pint in hand. Following his speech at the Labour Party Conference on 29th September, Burnham posted yet another image of himself, staring longingly into a pint of Guinness as if it were a magic mirror. This PM is not standing behind a lectern; he is pushing his agenda with his arm resting on your local pub’s bar.
Politicians have a long history of trying to demonstrate that they are completely normal. Eating a bacon sandwich, visiting a factory in a hi-vis jacket, or chatting about how many digestives they like with their cup of tea. Burnham appears to have settled on the pint as his particular political prop, as well as his love of music and his northern heritage. It is remarkably versatile; a pint can represent one of many things. A pint says: ‘I’m social’, ‘I watch the football’, or ‘I am not one of those politicians who have forgotten what normal people do!’.
There is nothing inherently cynical about this. Perhaps that is the point: political branding doesn’t mean a policy is insincere, and a politician can genuinely care about struggling pubs and recognise that standing in one makes for better scenery than the cushty walls of 10 Downing Street.
Burnham, you are completely allowed to like the pub and like watching football. I like the pub and watching football too. Pubs genuinely are under threat and should be protected, whilst football culture has changed a lot since the 1980s. Just don’t ruin the pub for everybody else by turning it into your political soapbox.
