Week Twenty Nine – Anyone Fancy a Pint? Welcome to the Twitter Arms
So, losing to Stoke, being four points off the top, overtaken by Liverpool and the end of our season. Fun weekend, eh?
I had planned on talking about the reaction and over-reaction to the result, but quite frankly I’m sick to the back teeth of it at the moment.
For me personally right now, it’s time to take stock of how I go about reacting to results myself, and it can only be done rationally by not reacting to reactions, and reacting to how people react to other people’s reactions.
Bollocks to all that.
After about ten minutes of looking at people contradict themselves into knots over the result, I was done in.
My opinion on the defeat:
– The ref was fucking diabolical.
– Stoke are dirty cunts.
– Charlie Adam eats babies for breakfast.
– Stoke fans are six fingered, web-toed, inbred, sister fucking freaks. Swing Low indeed.
– Our performance was appalling, not nearly good enough to win the game, regardless of the shit refereeing, and one not becoming of a team that want to challenge for the title.
– There were some individual performances out there that only a large, high-powered rocket up the arse will cure.
– The team selection was wrong (although there is an element of hindsight being a wonderful thing as far as that goes.)
– We need to pick ourselves up quickly, the Everton game is huge, and will shape the rest of our season one way or the other.
There you go.
It is possible to comment on the shitness of the refereeing, the dirty-cuntyness of Stoke as well as the shitness of our performance and acknowledging the other factors were not solely to blame for us not winning the game, if at all.
Anyway, enough of that for now.
Fancy a trip to the pub?
Let’s face it, these days we all spend far too much time than is healthy on the melting pot that is Twitter.
I myself follow and virtually converse with a wide range of people with a wide range of views, often to the detriment of my sanity.
I’ve seen Twitter compared to a discussion in the pub about football, something I’ve enjoyed all my adult life, and it’s rare that this occurs with everyone I’m talking to being of the same opinion.
So, with that in mind, and seeing as we’ve all had a tough few days, I think we should continue this discussion down the pub…
Welcome to the Twitter Arms
Tweet Pilsner – an enjoyable, yet potentially lethally addictive tipple. Please drink responsibly, as consuming too much of this can send you round the bend.
Tweet Bitter – Too much Tweet Pilsner and you may end up drinking this. People drinking this and only this are best avoided if possible.
R & T – best taken as a chaser with Tweet Pilsner, the two together can provide you with an enjoyable drinking experience. Again though, people drinking only R & T are best avoided. Addicts will often approach you asking for an R & T, approach with caution.
Don’t tell me you haven’t been to a pub and indulged in a bit of people watching.
The thing is, this is just a pub, and you can’t really hate people here if you don’t really know them.
Except for Tottenham fans, anyone brings one of that lot into the pub then all bets are off (as our lovely web toed, six fingered, sister fucking friends from Stoke might say) It takes all sorts, don’t forget, and people are often different in the pub to what they are at home. It’s also the sort of pub you will meet some cracking people in, and you may well meet up with those people in different pubs.
Here are some of the types of people you may come across in the Twitter Arms…
The Old Skool Lads
The blokes in the corner who sit there complaining about everything, from the price of beer to the way everything was better in the old days.
They are actually nice old boys and quite often right, after all beer was cheaper and everything was better in the old days, and it is nice chatting about those days, but sometimes it gets a bit much, and you have to leave them to it. They’re doing no harm after all.
The bloke who walks in looking round to see who looks at him, you can hear a collective groan of “For fucks sake, him again…” while everyone looks down at their pint trying not to make eye contact. This doesn’t help, though, as he will find someone having a conversation and worm his way into it, and he always seems to know more about whatever it is you’re talking about don’t he?
Of course, this bloke won’t just stop at ruining your conversation, he’ll make his way round the pub doing the same to everyone else (everybody knows him, he’s THAT bloke) until eventually someone tells him to fuck off.
Salt of the Earth
The group of mates who meet up in the pub without the need to arrange to meet, there will always be at least two of them there, and others will pop in periodically here and there.
This is the best group of people to be around, and if you find the pub getting a bit depressing, do yourself a favour and pull up a chair at this table. You’ll be welcomed with open arms, whoever you are, and they won’t fail to brighten up your drinking experience.
They just enjoy themselves as much as possible, taking life as it should be taken, talking football, reminiscing in stories of days gone by, and just generally having a laugh. Then, when closing time comes, they go home, then come back and do it again whenever they please.
If they don’t fancy a pint for a few days, they stay away from the pub and do other stuff, there’s no compulsion to drag themselves to the pub in fear that they might be missing out on something, because they know deep down that they are not.
Clearly sexually frustrated, this man will sit drinking Tweet Bitter with a constant sneer on his face. He knows what is wrong with the world, he knows when it’s going to go wrong, and his sneer grows more fucking smug every time he tells you he told you so.
This bloke has always got an opinion on something, and he likes to share it with as many people as possible, and will circulate around the pub until he finds someone who will listen to him, sometimes even poncing an R & T off of you.
Occasionally, someone will bring someone else into the pub after one too many R & T’s, someone they don’t actually like themselves. This person is always a grade A cunt, can’t handle their drink and spends the night pissing everyone off until eventually everyone has to walk away before things get nasty, and the bloke ends up sitting in the corner talking to himself with a stupid grin on his face.
On the other side of that particular coin, everyone loves it when someone brings a Liverpool fan along with them, and we all have a good old laugh at them breaking out into a rendition of You’ll Never Walk Along after too many R & T’s, and often at the end of the night they’ll get all teary and emotional, especially if someone famous has just died.
You’re not perfect though
Sometimes you come home from this pub and think to yourself “what a stupid cunt I was tonight”.
You can erase everything you said and did from your memory easily enough, and most people will just forget it and move on.
But there will often be a few who will remember everything, and will bring it up a few days, weeks, months or sometimes even years later.
So there you have it, if you’ve spotted yourself in there, don’t be offended, it’s just laugh. (I’m in there myself!)
I think we could all do with taking a step back once in a while, it’s football for fucks sake.
The Twitter Arms is a decent enough boozer, but as anyone who has ever been a regular in a pub before will tell you, people change when they drink too often, sometimes to the extent of a complete transformation in their personality.
You will notice this if you watch closely enough, too much Tweet Pilsner can have an accumulative effect.
Like I say, it takes all sorts, and none of these people mean or cause any harm to you, it’s just a pub, if it gets too much you can go home. Or to a different pub.
Until next week then.
I should tell you a bit about myself. I’m not a stat man or a tactical genius, and you certainly won’t hear my opinion on Arsenal Football Club finances. Not that there’s anything wrong with any of that, it’s just not my thing. Don’t get me wrong, some do this very well but, for me, football has always been about what’s on the pitch, watching the game, discussing it over a beer with your mates after, then going into work on Monday morning either gloating or defending your team to the hilt, resisting the temptation to punch the token deluded Tottenham fan in the throat. Oh and my Dad and brothers are all with the Dark Side…