27th May 1989
Jackson's in Cardiff, where my then other half's parents lived.

My ex had travelled up to Cardiff on the Friday, I'd stayed in London to watch the most unforgettable football match ever in a pub near Highbury and travelled to Wales, bleary-eyed and not so much hungover as still pissed from the night before.

Anyway, after perking a bit in the afternoon we decided to go out for the evening and headed to Jackson's.

Still feeling high from the previous evening, I decided to go the whole hog and order a bottle of Champagne, which attracted the attention of a couple of local lads, one small and bald, the other tall and thin with a 'tache (think Hen Broon).

This being the late 80s, and since I was suited and booted, comments such as "fucking yuppies" and "flash bastard" started coming my way.

Now, I'm usually one to avoid confrontation, but I wasn't going to let those two spoil my fun, so I turned round and said:

"Do you mind? I'm trying to celebrate the fact that my team won the league last night".

At which point two things happened - the tall bloke said "Bastards!" and looked like he was about to hit me, while the small guy shouted "Gooner!" and threw his arms round me.

Turned out one was an Arsenal fan, the other was a Spurs fan, lots of drinks and male bonding over football chat ensued and my ex got a bit mad at me...
(Capo, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 13:48, Reply)