England ‘footballer’ Jess Carter has whistled up the cops to probe the online hate directed at her.

Yes, you read that right. A shedload of labour-intensive man hours will now be ploughed into an investigation about a handful of hurty words unidigitally prodded into a keyboard by some weary gobshite. Surely, it takes a bit more than that for an elite sportsperson to be licked?

Apparently not.

Puzzlingly, nobody can find any such comments posted on her X replies, but you’d have to have a dwindling appetite for life to subject yourself to such a tissue of skidmarked wipe fodder.

All I could see were clips of a German goalkeeper merrily fisting away, and comments from Ms Carter exclaiming, ‘that’s my fianceeeeeeee!, or variants thereof.

I should clarify that the keeper in question – and I am sure she is a keeper – is fisting balls away from the danger area during matches. Jess doesn’t ever include the acute accent in ‘fiancée’, but in fairness most of the Lionesses appear to be as thick as a chav’s eyebrow.

I am sure that the alleged racist comments are somewhere on that feed, but I couldn’t continue scrolling, as voices in my head were threatening me with unmitigated violence if I continued to engage with her social media shizzle show. I would have reported that mental assault and my consequent hurt feelings to the cop coterie myself, but to be frank I had no wish to divert critical resources away from the crime du jour, namely the life-changing vitriol that Darren from Dagenham was spewing forth from the confines of his crusty bedsit as he snapped his wanksocks in anger at the futile farce of female footy.

I’d never actually heard of Jess Carter before this latest episode of predictably shambolic and cretinous cosplay re-emerged in the current Swiss psychodrama, and I’ve never seen her play. However, most of the Lionesses are clearly as graceful as clubfooted clowns jogging backwards over KY-coated bubblewrap. You’d have thought they would all have had the self-awareness to ‘step back’ from ‘football’ full stop and to beat their apparently trademark haphazard paths permanently into oblivion, but that’s not how these chickadees roll. They’re all goalhanging for equal pay, but sadly they’ll be waiting on that bunce bonanza ’til the cows come home, which will be a darn sight sooner than football does.

But, for a moment, let’s consider the central issue of the racist abuse. I certainly don’t condone racism in any form, and the perpetrators should have their social media accounts terminated, as I am certain their terms of use will mandate. I am however a big fan of the off-button, which is what the hapless ball slicer seems to have hit anyway.

That seems like a double-ended problem-solver right there, but the England camp appear to have muffed it with their 999 call to the clown factory. Other than spaffing the taxpayers’ hard-earned up the wall, it’s hard to see what a police investigation will achieve?

Well, other than a hefty slice of woke PR and the associated kudos from the social democratic elite.

Nowadays, it always seems to be about a flair cop rather than a fair one.

Incidentally, one of Carter’s teammates has lamented that the abuse of female players has risen as the women’s game has grown.

Wow. That’s the kind of sagest insight that will spooge up a chunky punditry gig alongside all the other token bints who are even more terminally useless than they look. And that’s saying something.

People do tend to get arsy when they are foie gras-ed underwater slo-mo ball-ballet and bullied into uncritical acceptance of it. We are of course living in an era where until recently we had to affirm with unbridled enthusiasm that a woman could have a big ‘ol cock and bulbous hairy balls. We are still only in the early days of rolling back swathes of such post-fact nonsense, and women’s ‘football’ is still incomprehensibly inextricable from a slagheap of baseless in-denial social dogma.

When all is said and done, though, we don’t need to witness nine scuffball penalty bloopers to clock that lezball is an abject embarrassment and that the hype surrounding it is a national joke.

Real football is a rough old world and with it come bucketloads of cutting criticism. If you can’t stand the heat, girls, get back in the kitchen.

I am sure that a few hundred grand and several weeks further down the line, some unfortunate chaps will be hiked out of bed at 5am, charged, and banged up for several months by a police court. I’ll have zero sympathy with any scumbag racists being named and shamed, but what a waste of time and money when cities like London are hurtling down the shitter at a rate of knots and crying out for proper policing that the top cops whinge they can’t afford to deliver.

Whatever does play out with this fuzz frolic, every England player will still be crap at football, and women’s ‘football’ will still be crap.

Ultimately, everyone can have their own opinion, but nobody can have their own facts.