Rocksuperstar
Isn't this fun? Isn't fun the best thing to have?
- Jun 6, 2005
- 53,368
- 67,011
With Watmore throwing in the towel in his battle with Lord Whatsisface of the FA, part of his reason given as frustration at the power the Premier League have over decisions, etc - whilst i wholeheartedly agree with his opinion, and feel that the FA is very much the UK to the Prem's USA now, the way it was explained on Sky Sports News made me realise the situation in a much clearer light - the view of a mong like me, if you will.
The Premier League is an exclusive party - 20 people are invited and the aim is to be the most wasted at the end of each season. Everyone starts drinking and the lightweights start to show their form early, taking regular toilet breaks, occasionally looking a little shifty, but now and then they have a shot of water and wake up a bit, ultimately to end up the ones who are asking which room they can crash out in early. Not so much trashed as run out of steam, still, they were on a budget and didn't spend so much on booze, so not a big surprise really.
The regular drinkers, the mid table, can fairly stick it away but everyone has the odd drink that knocks them sideways - i can't do ciders, i'm sure you all have one or two you avoid - and it depends on what was being drunk before and after you shrug and pour the sambuca you know always stuffs you, but it's a good battle amongst regular drinking buddies. Some will hit the wrong drinks at the wrong time and favorites for a push at the "most wasted" title fall away earlier than expected, others will show a metal constitution that no-one saw coming. Ultimately though, despite spunking a fair bit on the liquor, they just can't compete with the alcoholics.
There's always the small group, the exclusive clique, who bring exotic, expensive, mad-coloured spirits from sunny islands and appear to be able to just drink and drink and drink. They've spent a cocking fortune on some of the finest wines, whiskeys and rums from around the globe, loudly clucking about how utterly f*cked they are, waving around their platinum credit cards, ignoring the fact that they will one day have to pay this back but, until that day comes, they just keep shuffling it from card to card, piling on the drinks. One day they'll get so drunk they'll realise they can't hide behind money lenders anymore - that'll be one hell of a hangover.
So far, this year, only one of those invited has actually collapsed and caused concern enough for an ambulance to be called, who have administered CPR and left them coughing in the front garden but, this time, there's a few clubs who have made a fist of it. We've apparently had a pint of milk before we set out and have been soaking up some of the slosh that would've had us reaching for the bowl in previous seasons. We've not been stoic till the end, we've had the odd wobble on the cheap stuff, the Super Tennants of the league, if you will, but overall, we're still upright and aside from a limp and a bit of a twitch, we're doing alright. Citeh came armed with lots of brightly coloured alco-pops which cost a fair bit, but so far appear to be coping better on this than they have done whenever they've turned up with a crate of real ale. Villa have been supping but are starting to look confident but sleepy - maybe a second wind left in them if they go outside and have a fag for a bit, but they're not looking as steady as they were when they arrived.
Liverpool have drunk the domestos and are wandering about with their trousers on their head. Shame, they were expensive trousers.
The Premier League is an exclusive party - 20 people are invited and the aim is to be the most wasted at the end of each season. Everyone starts drinking and the lightweights start to show their form early, taking regular toilet breaks, occasionally looking a little shifty, but now and then they have a shot of water and wake up a bit, ultimately to end up the ones who are asking which room they can crash out in early. Not so much trashed as run out of steam, still, they were on a budget and didn't spend so much on booze, so not a big surprise really.
The regular drinkers, the mid table, can fairly stick it away but everyone has the odd drink that knocks them sideways - i can't do ciders, i'm sure you all have one or two you avoid - and it depends on what was being drunk before and after you shrug and pour the sambuca you know always stuffs you, but it's a good battle amongst regular drinking buddies. Some will hit the wrong drinks at the wrong time and favorites for a push at the "most wasted" title fall away earlier than expected, others will show a metal constitution that no-one saw coming. Ultimately though, despite spunking a fair bit on the liquor, they just can't compete with the alcoholics.
There's always the small group, the exclusive clique, who bring exotic, expensive, mad-coloured spirits from sunny islands and appear to be able to just drink and drink and drink. They've spent a cocking fortune on some of the finest wines, whiskeys and rums from around the globe, loudly clucking about how utterly f*cked they are, waving around their platinum credit cards, ignoring the fact that they will one day have to pay this back but, until that day comes, they just keep shuffling it from card to card, piling on the drinks. One day they'll get so drunk they'll realise they can't hide behind money lenders anymore - that'll be one hell of a hangover.
So far, this year, only one of those invited has actually collapsed and caused concern enough for an ambulance to be called, who have administered CPR and left them coughing in the front garden but, this time, there's a few clubs who have made a fist of it. We've apparently had a pint of milk before we set out and have been soaking up some of the slosh that would've had us reaching for the bowl in previous seasons. We've not been stoic till the end, we've had the odd wobble on the cheap stuff, the Super Tennants of the league, if you will, but overall, we're still upright and aside from a limp and a bit of a twitch, we're doing alright. Citeh came armed with lots of brightly coloured alco-pops which cost a fair bit, but so far appear to be coping better on this than they have done whenever they've turned up with a crate of real ale. Villa have been supping but are starting to look confident but sleepy - maybe a second wind left in them if they go outside and have a fag for a bit, but they're not looking as steady as they were when they arrived.
Liverpool have drunk the domestos and are wandering about with their trousers on their head. Shame, they were expensive trousers.
