No one said it would be like this except perhaps George Orwell. Each minute of each goddamn day is accounted for. Freedom has been withdrawn by the courtesy of the State. Who they are remains a mystery but someone must be in charge because I am constantly being directed by someone; human or disembodied voice. One day slips into another; the monotonous cycle of man.

I have a room painted in battleship grey, one small window so high up on the wall it is impossible to look out, a bed and a cupboard. Passage of time is observed by light and darkness of the world outside. I rarely leave my room; it is the regime that dictates. I have been obedient but somehow I have not gained enough points to permit me to mix or go outside. I often wonder how the human race got to this point; it didn’t happen over night it crept up on us. Laws were passed and we elected those to govern us so we have no excuse; some spoke out but they were quickly disposed of.

I turned as a key clicked in the lock of my room. The door opened slowly and in walked a uniformed officer with a blank expression. Emotions of any kind had been forbidden.

‘You will come with me,’ said the officer in a flat voice.

‘Why?’

‘You will do as you are told or else further privileges will be removed,’ he informed me.

‘But I have no privileges,’ I insisted.

‘That remains to be seen.’ He pointed to a coat hanging on a peg. ‘Put it on.’

We walked in silence along the corridor outside my room. We passed the toilet block. I had never been past this area in ten years; I was now walking along unchartered territory. We continued to the end of the corridor and then turned left; the next corridor appeared to be the same as mine, reaching the end we turned left again. I felt perhaps we would walk all sides of a square and end up where we had started, namely my room. I was mistaken. We stood before a door which he unlocked and ushered me through. I was standing outside the building the cold air played gently on my face. I gulped in the fresh air greedily; the first I had experienced since arriving here.

I looked out across a green field and saw a familiar white shape standing like an obelisk reminding me of a by-gone age. I turned to the guard who was watching me closely for any reaction and asked him, ‘I thought this had been band by law.’

‘We keep some aspects of football to check our treatment has been effective.’

I stared at the white posts and recalled all those times I had followed my team through good times and bad. A sudden lurch in my stomach caused me to recall all the fights and those whom I had maimed. This was why I had been put away. Was I reformed? Could I go back into society? Was I still a football hooligan? I watched the guard as he watched me for several minutes then he pronounced sentence.

‘Your not ready yet.’