This is exactly how I feel about jock shite the more I live amongst jock shite:

Talking of Brits I see Andy Murray has lost. Too bad. I don't care for him much, in fact I would be pleased to see him lose any time. This is a trick I learned from the Big Macs up north. For years, like a naive innocent, I supported Scottish sportsvolk, whether individual or team, until I discovered the only miserable, small-minded pleasure most Scots got out of life was seeing England lose at anything whatesoever. So now I am glad to see them lose at anything whatsoever. You see what a monster you have created, O Caledonia?

On the other hand all those society columns in the papers encouraging Andy to become more loveable and British can fry in hell (said he, twirling his dashing RAF moustache). I would not wish him to become more mealy-mouthed just so that he may be the subject of a thousand journalistic air-kisses or the equivalent of My Little Pony on Henman Hill. He should have the courage of his convictions and put up with being cold-shouldered by the English. I would almost admire that. And I hope you lose next time too, Andy.