Non-league WAGS

Victoria Beckham, Cheryl Cole (nee Tweedy) and Colleen McLoughlin. Part of a group of women known collectively as WAGS. WAGS (in case you don't know, stands for 'Wives And Girlfriends') was the phrase that came into popular use during the 2006 Football World Cup in Germany.

In partcular, the term referred to the lady-friends of the England football players. These women became celebrities in their own right and as their erstwhile fellas strutted across the hallowed grasses of various German football grounds, they glided down cobbled streets, wafted along busy roads in enormous Mercedes Benz's and grazed in the exclusive clothes and jewellery shops of the nearest hautpstraße (high street).

The media loved them, following them to shops, shops and more shops. The WAGS loved the attention too. They became famous for being famous and for having such extravagent lifestyles and fabulous clothes.

It's not quite the same for the wives and girlfriends of the players at non-league Burton Albion. I went to see them play last week and sside from the ususal joys of visiting a non-league footie match, there was an extra treat in store. About 15 minutes before kick-off (against Kidderminster Harriers no less), 3 or 4 women appeared and stood chatting beside the pitch. Several players (who were warming up) came over and exchanged a few words and a quick peck on the cheek. These women were clearly WAGS.

However, they were not quite Beckham, Tweedy and McLoughlin. They were a gaggle of slightly lumpy, massively fake-tanned purveyors of TK Maxx's finest. Tight, white, semi-transparent trousers, black t-shirt tops with huge swathes of shiny, gold material wrapped around the belly area. The shoes were high and golden but with scuff-marks aplenty. The hair was sort of permed but not. However, even the stiff breeze which whipped across the Pirelli Stadium could not blow a strand out of place. It was industrially rigid. They looked magnificent. And common. I felt like I had discovered a new breed of human - the 'non-league Wag'.

It truly was, a gourmet feast for the optic nerves. The best bit was the fact that were loving the whole thing. Standing there chatting, laughing and preening. Wearing clothes that no-one else would have been seen dead in and living the dream. The dream of being a gorgeous, glamourous, fabulously wealthy footballer's wife.

In Burton on Trent.