In the world of football, the game may be won on the pitch, but the real battle is often fought in the terraces, pubs, and increasingly in chat rooms. And while some fans go to war with banners and boos, others arm themselves with something far more dangerous – the nickname. Not the official kind, no, the unofficial, often unflattering, and absolutely unfiltered kind. The names that say more about the tribal nature of football than any post-match interview ever could.
Here are a few of the ones I’ve been told about:
The Gunners: This is a name given to Arsenal, a team supported by a good friend. I understand the name derives from their origins in the Royal Arsenal munitions factory in Woolwich, which gives them a solid historical foundation and the kind of brand consistency that marketing departments dream of. It also provides endless puns about firing blanks whenever they lose 1-0 to Bradford.
Fans of rival clubs have given them other affectionate nicknames over the years, most of which can’t be reproduced, but look at the first four letters…
Wet Spam: Oh I did laugh when I heard this one: West Ham United are known, in theory, as The Hammers, again a nod to their ironworks past. But to everyone else on the internet, they are Wet Spam, the culinary equivalent of a drizzly Tuesday night in Stoke. No one really knows who coined it, but once the internet got a whiff of it, it stuck harder than chewing gum on a pub carpet. There’s something particularly British about taking a noble working-class club and reducing it to a soggy tin of mystery meat. This is satire in its purest form, and also what makes football fans possibly the nation’s greatest untapped comic writers.
The Blues: Now we turn to Chelsea, the blue-blooded aristocrats of West London football. Officially, they’re The Blues, but to rival fans, they’ve collected a whole catalogue of nicknames, including Chelski, The Pensioners, and The Bus Stop in Fulham, a delightful piece of geographical snobbery and class warfare. You see, Stamford Bridge, for all its glitz, is tucked just outside the main Fulham drag, and some fans of more historically glamorous clubs like to pretend that Chelsea are basically just squatting in west London with borrowed prestige and an aggressive estate agent vibe.
Let’s be honest, for a club that used to be more about cockney banter than continental swagger, Chelsea’s modern transformation has been nothing short of operatic. Once famous for colourful characters and a shed end with more fights than finesse, they are now known for billionaire takeovers, luxury managers, and players with haircuts that cost more than the average car in Skelmersdale.
The nickname Chelski arrived during the Roman Abramovich era, when money started flowing into Stamford Bridge like a busted fire hydrant. The club began collecting trophies and world-class players like a ten-year-old collects stickers, and suddenly, Chelsea weren’t the cheeky chancers from SW6 anymore, they were Bond villains with boot bags.
Then there’s The Pensioners, a nod to their former club badge which featured a Chelsea pensioner, one of those heroic old soldiers who wear bright red coats and live in the Royal Hospital nearby. The nickname still lingers, even though the team now seems to favour signing toddlers on ten-year contracts who probably think cassette tapes are a myth.
Of course, none of this stops the chaos. Chelsea are the only club that can spend half a billion pounds and still forget to buy a striker. They’re football’s answer to a luxury yacht with no rudder. For a period of time, they were somehow winning everything and nothing at once. It’s not always pretty, it’s often confusing, but it’s never dull.
And while rival fans snipe about their money, their managers, their revolving door of transfers, Chelsea fans just point to the trophy cabinet, whisper Champions of Europe, and go back to watching 19-year-olds from Ecuador ping 60-yard passes on a Tuesday night..
The Potters: Ah, Stoke. The mere mention of it conjures a vision of rain, wind, and a kind of football that feels like it was designed as punishment for joy. The Potters is their official nickname, paying tribute to the city’s ceramic heritage. Yes, this is a club proudly built on clay, cups, and absolutely smashing it into Row Z.
But Stoke’s true legacy isn’t porcelain, it’s fear. Not the kind that comes from attacking flair or dazzling dribbles, no, the fear of facing a back four built like fridge-freezers and a long throw-in that seems to defy physics.
Every football fan knows the phrase, “Can they do it on a cold Tuesday night in Stoke?” It’s no longer just a question, it’s a rite of passage. You could win the Ballon d’Or, get knighted by the King, and be sponsored by NASA, but if you’ve never had to play away at Stoke, in the sideways rain, with a centre-back whispering threats into your ear while a bloke in the crowd throws a pie, then sorry, mate, you’re not really world class.
This myth was born during the Tony Pulis era, when Stoke played a brand of football so direct it made medieval warfare look subtle. Rory Delap’s throw-ins were treated like ballistic missile tests, and opposing teams turned up like they were going to war. Lionel Messi was once asked if he could handle a night in Stoke. He just laughed nervously and looked for the nearest exit.
Today, they’re less terrifying, but the name lives on. Say what you want about The Potters, but when your club’s identity causes an existential crisis for global superstars, you’ve achieved something very special.
The Chests of Money: And then there’s Manchester City, a club once known for tragic collapses, comical own goals, and being the perpetual little brother. But then came the oil money. And now they are The Chests of Money, a nickname that drips with sarcasm and bank statements. Rival fans imagine their midfielders being driven to training in Bentleys made of 24carat gold, while Pep Guardiola allegedly stores his tactics in a diamond encrusted binder kept next to the staff Nespresso machine that runs on ground-up titanium.
Some City fans have tried to lean into the humour, others just point at the scoreboard; well until this year when the honours went to a rival club to their west..
The Red Devils: Officially, this is the name for Manchester United, one that sounds like a Marvel spin-off, but actually came from a French rugby team. Yes, really! Sir Matt Busby thought it sounded a bit tougher than The Busby Babes, which, although sweet, didn’t exactly strike fear into opponents. You can’t exactly win the league while sounding like a 1950s girl band.
So, The Red Devils they became, and they lived up to the name, dominating English football, terrifying defenders, and winning trophies like they were going out of fashion. For decades, Manchester United were the footballing equivalent of a steamroller with a PR department, flattening the league and selling shirts to half of Asia while they did it. Kudos to them all!
But that’s just the official line. The rest of football fans have a variety of different names for them.
If you’re a rival fan, you might call them Manure, which is both childish but incredibly popular. This classic schoolyard insult still brings joy to thousands every weekend, especially when they lose to someone like Bournemouth.
Others opt for The Glazer Circus, a nod to their American owners and the regular carnival of mismanagement. With enough directors of football, assistant vice-presidents and temporary caretakers to start their own soap opera, United have spent the post-Ferguson years lurching between chaos and confusion like a very wealthy toddler in a supermarket.
Then there’s Banters United, a name that surfaces whenever they spend £85 million on a winger who defends like a traffic cone, or when their social media admin posts “Up for the cup” followed by a 4–0 thrashing.
Fans still refer to Old Trafford as The Theatre of Dreams, but lately it’s been more The Matinée of Mild Disappointment. The once fearsome fortress has seen more defeats, leaks, and rebuilds than a student flat. Pundits love to talk about how they’re “in transition”, which is a nice way of saying “still no midfield and no plan”.
Of course, their fans remain fiercely loyal, loudly proclaiming that this is the year it all clicks, even as they sign another Dutch lad with a strong jawline and the tactical awareness of a wheelbarrow. To be fair, they’ve seen it all: the treble, the trouble, the TikTok era, and they’re still there, still chanting, still insisting that Scott McTominay might actually be world class if you squint hard enough.
One thing’s for sure, no club inspires such a potent mix of love, loathing, nostalgia and schadenfreude. Whether you adore them, despise them, or just enjoy watching them implode spectacularly on a Sunday afternoon, Manchester United will always be at the centre of football’s drama department.
The Bin Dippers: A name for Liverpool that smells faintly of envy and bins on fire, The Bin Dippers is the sort of nickname that makes no sense to outsiders and even less to Scousers, but continues to thrive because the English football scene operates on a diet of pettiness and folklore. Some claim it’s linked to the economic struggles of Liverpool in the 80s, others just enjoy the mental image of a Scouser diving headfirst into a wheelie bin to recover a Fabergé egg stolen from Pep Guardiola.
Liverpool fans, to their credit, tend to reply with either real world trophies or pointed comments about Manchester’s train stations. Congrats for winning the premiership this season lads!
The Seagulls: Brighton and Hove Albion are known as The Seagulls, a nickname that sounds innocent until you realise seagulls are angry, chaotic, chip-stealing sky demons who would mug your gran for a Cornetto. It’s surprisingly accurate for a club that pecks at the ankles of bigger teams and has been known to steal points with the same scrappy finesse.
Rival fans have tried to call them The Gulls of Doom, The Beach Pigeons, and That Club That Ruined My Acca, but nothing sticks quite like a seagull with a vendetta.
The Tractor Boys: Ipswich Town, god bless them, are The Tractor Boys, a name that tells you absolutely everything you need to know about Suffolk and also nothing about football. No one is sure if this is affectionate or just very literal. Do they arrive at games on Massey Fergusons? Is the midfield made entirely of farmers? Possibly. But it’s honest and that’s more than can be said for VAR.
Everton: Poor Everton, often living in the shadow of their louder red neighbours, are affectionately known as The Toffees. This nickname sounds adorable, like something you’d buy in a paper bag at a seaside kiosk. And in a way, that’s not far off. The name is rooted in history, with theories involving a toffee shop near their old stadium which sold Everton Mints, a black and white striped sweet that tastes like nostalgia and low expectations.
Legend has it that in the 1800s, this toffee shop was run by a kindly old woman known as Mother Noblett who used to sell sweet treats to match-goers. Rather than going with something fierce like The Iron, Everton fans went, yes, we’ll be The Toffees, a decision possibly made on a sugar high and cheeky win.
They even have a mascot called “Toffee Lady”, who throws sweets into the crowd before matches. It sounds dead cute and possibly the least threatening pre-match ritual in football history. You wouldn’t see Millwall doing that.
Rival fans, of course, make jokes about Everton sticking to opponents like toffee on a shoe or melting under pressure, but there’s an old-school warmth to it. The Toffees are the club equivalent of a proper mug of tea, a bit underrated but always welcome. It has to be said that the Toffees are sticky, stubborn, and liable to ruin your dental work, which does rather match Everton’s playing style at times.
Spurs: Ah, Tottenham Hotspur, or Spurs to their supporters such as Sid and of course Luc; and apparently even their enemies when they’re being generous. The nickname comes from the medieval knight Sir Henry Percy, also known as Harry Hotspur, who liked to put spurs on his boots and was known for his aggressive style. This bit of equine cosplay apparently made him a folk hero and a brand ambassador for north London.
Spurs fans embrace the name like a noble legacy. Everyone else uses it as a setup for a punchline. Enter Spursy, an unofficial term meaning to collapse dramatically just when things are looking hopeful. It’s not a nickname, it’s a verb, a lifestyle, a philosophical condition. Arsenal fans in particular seem to think it should be added to the Oxford English Dictionary under the heading “see also: nearly”.
They’ve also been referred to as The Bottlers, Lads, It’s Tottenham, and occasionally North London’s Second Favourite Team, depending on how generous people are feeling that day. Usually not very.
Spoon Burners: Crossing the border into Scotland, we meet Hibernian, affectionately known as The Hibees by their own, but far more enjoyably referred to by rivals as The Spoon Burners. This curious moniker harks back to an incident in which some Hibs fans, in their wisdom, attempted to cook a meal in a hotel room and set fire to a spoon. Presumably they were either extremely drunk or extremely optimistic about the properties of cutlery.
Rather than being shamed by it, Hibs fans have taken it in their stride, proving once again that Scotland leads the way in taking public embarrassment and turning it into folklore.
Rangers: They are often called The Gers, The Teddy Bears (which comes from rhyming slang, Bears for Gers, and has absolutely nothing to do with cuddly toys), or Sevco if you’re a Celtic fan with a grudge, a spreadsheet, and a long memory.
The club’s financial collapse and reformation in 2012 led to endless arguments about whether the current Rangers are the same Rangers, a different Rangers, or a ghost wearing a blue shirt. Thus was born Sevco, short for the name of the holding company that acquired the club’s assets. It’s used almost exclusively to wind people up and has the unique ability to start arguments in quiet rooms.
They are also referred to as The Ibrox Club, The Light Blues, or The Most Successful Club in the World, depending on whether the speaker is a Rangers fan, a historian, or a judge at UEFA currently ducking for cover.
Rangers fans are famously loyal, occasionally combustible, and have turned their stadium chants into sonic weapons. They consider The Teddy Bears to be a badge of honour, if one embroidered by a particularly drunk rhyming slang merchant from Glasgow.
The Jam Tarts: Heart of Midlothian are called The Jam Tarts, which sounds like something you’d find in a Beano annual or a bakery run by pensioners. It’s Cockney rhyming slang for Heart, and like most Scottish football nicknames, it’s charming, vaguely ridiculous, and comes with a side of deep-fried menace.
The Prawns and the Pie Men: We mustn’t forget the fans themselves. Manchester United’s more refined attendees were once called The Prawn Sandwich Brigade after Roy Keane had a meltdown about the corporate crowd. And in contrast, Wigan’s were lovingly dubbed The Pie Eaters, a title of culinary pride and regional resilience. Together, they represent the yin and yang of football cuisine.
Football nicknames are tribal poetry; the folklore of the terraces, sometimes passed down with more venom than reason and more creativity than most ad agencies. Some are hilarious, some are cruel, some are so niche you’d need an anthropology degree to decode them, but all of them speak to the passion, the madness, and the sheer bloody-minded brilliance of the game.
It’s been fascinating to research this; I’ve restricted my listing to the clubs supported by friends, so apologies if I’ve missed your team. I think this must be the longest piece of rambling I’ve done on here…
So next time you hear someone shout “Up the Cherries”, just remember, in the parallel universe of football nicknames, fruit can be celebrated, cutlery is flammable, and no one is safe from a bit of lovingly malicious rebranding.
With thanks to Paul and Sid for the chat that inspired this post 🙂
Photo by Connor Coyne
