Gooners / Chelsea / West Ham who can talk the legs off 'what's wrong with Spurs' (all based entirely on what they've read in the media), but yet cannot engage in informed conversation about their own squad.
Glamourless, hum-drum usually Midlands / Northern based sides who sing upbeat musical melodies which would be suited in the party atmosphere of Serie A - but have no place being recounted somewhere around Birmingham. Especially that one which is played on the trumped and has no words except for the two which punctuate the last two beats. You know which one I'm talking about.
New Chipry. His tail plumage yesterday was a disgrace. It was like a City / Barclays Bank shade light blue. Levy - sort it.
For some reason over the years I've run into a lot of toffs who bang on about their adventures during the World Cup (invariably no more exciting than an average away-day to Norwich) - who apparently have absolutely no allegiance (nor apparent interest) in regular football. Vaccous, trendy, try-hard, c**ts.
Kids from the estates around WHL who wear Gooner shirts on match days. You're wither clueless - or a massive pisstaker. Die.
Pairs of fuckers in the Koyum kebab shop who get annoyed when you ask to share a four table. You're not a date you tankers - it's 45 minutes before KO and man needs two Gozlemeler and chips in him!
When the Bell & Hare runs primarily out of Red Stripe - then secondarily out of canned booze altogether.
