New rules at grounds

[Squid]

If it's going to bother you so much, stay at home. Me, Squid and Tom Joad will be able to have all the space we need to watch the games by ourselves. Whilst stretching our legs.  

Can't wait. Parking will be easier too.

[backsidebaggie]

It’ll be like when we were at school and the teacher told everyone to be quiet. Lasts about thirty seconds, a few start whispering, then before you know it the entire class is chatting away.

[Fulham Fallout]

If it's going to bother you so much, stay at home. Me, Squid and Tom Joad will be able to have all the space we need to watch the games by ourselves. Whilst stretching our legs.  

Can't wait. Parking will be easier too.

Spandau will be able to find a seat with a spare one next to it

[HawkingsHalfpint]

Will never be enforced for long, it would be worse than VAR. No singing, no shouting; no point.

Football is about release for a lot of guys who have a pretty unremarkable life otherwise. Take that away and what’s better?

It’s warmer in the armchair, and my arse doesn’t feel like it’s been lucky pierred by Arnie and the somehow even camper Terminator afterwards. and the pies aren’t cold, don’t taste like cat shit, nor is there a queue for the oven. Which is set to, you know, ‘cook’; rather than simulate serving them after maybe carrying past a radiator on an unexpectedly warm springtime day.

I don’t have to brave spurious red lines or wardens, nor trams designed and operated for the terminally deprived. I don’t have to put up with a barrage of sponsorship for brands I don’t identify with. I don’t but could smoke. I don’t but could get drunk.

Which brings me to alcohol, which I don’t have to drink in the kitchen like a criminal about to fly to Marbs wankered on duty free Grey Goose, unlike the well-behaved Barmy Army (who get all day to spread out their inoffensive, unobtrusive chanting and obviously responsible drinking). But I supposed it’s of comparable standard. That is, had I been barred from Tesco, Sainsbury’s, Waitrose, Mozzas, ASDA or anyone else that isn’t Netto or the nearby Muslim offy with its four dusty bottles of Echo Falls.

It’s cheaper and my toes don’t get cold. My kids don’t moan and can watch their DS thingies if they get bored, without having to prove to some dude in orange it isn’t Semtex or Mandy.

My other half won’t get a smack unlike the stewards might (she’d get up and hit back and I wouldn’t be banned from the cohabiting experience either, just laughed at a little).

I don’t have to put up with my Dad yelling at the wrong black player who’s given the ball away (usually Sawyers regardless of whether or looks like sawyers or HRK) because he forget his glasses I just tell him it’s on BT sport which I don’t have and all is cool.

I don’t have to put up with Transgender day/Help for Heroes day/Help for SkyEndorsed Charitable Tax Write-off day.

I don’t need to adjust my working diary because we want a £600k windfall regardless of its impact on the community GDP. Cynical huh.

My toilet resembles a toilet and not an industrial sluice gate. My water is warm and the inhabitants of my other toilets aren’t using drugs (just me).

I don’t feel compelled to clap things I don’t want to. I can stand up when I want because long ago I got told of being to sit down.

I won’t be told to shut up as well. I’ll just do something else.

[igorbalis]

Will never be enforced for long, it would be worse than VAR. No singing, no shouting; no point.

Football is about release for a lot of guys who have a pretty unremarkable life otherwise. Take that away and what’s better?

It’s warmer in the armchair, and my arse doesn’t feel like it’s been lucky pierred by Arnie and the somehow even camper Terminator afterwards. and the pies aren’t cold, don’t taste like cat shit, nor is there a queue for the oven. Which is set to, you know, ‘cook’; rather than simulate serving them after maybe carrying past a radiator on an unexpectedly warm springtime day.

I don’t have to brave spurious red lines or wardens, nor trams designed and operated for the terminally deprived. I don’t have to put up with a barrage of sponsorship for brands I don’t identify with. I don’t but could smoke. I don’t but could get drunk.

Which brings me to alcohol, which I don’t have to drink in the kitchen like a criminal about to fly to Marbs wankered on duty free Grey Goose, unlike the well-behaved Barmy Army (who get all day to spread out their inoffensive, unobtrusive chanting and obviously responsible drinking). But I supposed it’s of comparable standard. That is, had I been barred from Tesco, Sainsbury’s, Waitrose, Mozzas, ASDA or anyone else that isn’t Netto or the nearby Muslim offy with its four dusty bottles of Echo Falls.

It’s cheaper and my toes don’t get cold. My kids don’t moan and can watch their DS thingies if they get bored, without having to prove to some dude in orange it isn’t Semtex or Mandy.

My other half won’t get a smack unlike the stewards might (she’d get up and hit back and I wouldn’t be banned from the cohabiting experience either, just laughed at a little).

I don’t have to put up with my Dad yelling at the wrong black player who’s given the ball away (usually Sawyers regardless of whether or looks like sawyers or HRK) because he forget his glasses I just tell him it’s on BT sport which I don’t have and all is cool.

I don’t have to put up with Transgender day/Help for Heroes day/Help for SkyEndorsed Charitable Tax Write-off day.

I don’t need to adjust my working diary because we want a £600k windfall regardless of its impact on the community GDP. Cynical huh.

My toilet resembles a toilet and not an industrial sluice gate. My water is warm and the inhabitants of my other toilets aren’t using drugs (just me).

I don’t feel compelled to clap things I don’t want to. I can stand up when I want because long ago I got told of being to sit down.

I won’t be told to shut up as well. I’ll just do something else.

Sir, I salute you