YOU'VE GOT to hate the way TVs have transformed the pub. It doesn't matter what night of the week you roll in for a quiet pint, you'll never get any peace. Because there's always a fan of 'Ereford, 'Iston or 'Uddersfield who'll walk in and ask politely, "Would you mind switching on the box? My lads are playing tonight."
We all know what happens. Twenty minutes later, you're trying to read the paper when this same fellow is slapping you on the back, triumphantly yelling: "I told you Scroggins was lethal in the box." Just after half time, he's squaring up to you, because you looked up up from your crossword to suggest the referee was correct to give a penalty against his team. And by the end he's hurling expletives up at his crestfallen goalie, as the landlord gently pushes him towards the door. It's unbearable.
Unless of course it's your team ...
And here's an amusing comparison, between Burnley and Glenrothes
No comments:
Post a Comment