Liverpool 3 Bolton 0

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i walked into the bar to the tune of You’ll Never Walk Alone. at this bar that i have been patronising for a while now is home to the Singapore Liverpool Football Club Supporters. i am not quite sure whether they are an official club or just couple of mates banding together. but judging by the banners around the bar i suppose it is as good as an official something. plus they provided some chips and sandwhiches, so that’s good enough for me.

as much as i am a fervent supporter of Liverpool FC, i am not a member of this club. i have never been a club type of person. it seems too geeky. although given that i am a nerd myself, it would be a big mistake to let the world know that you are a geek. in any case, dont mind my rather shallow thoughts…

i just like this pub. it’s kind of English and Irishy, reminds me of Rosie O’Grady’s at Northbridge, Perth.

so there i was amongst a crowd of white folks and other fair and dark colored species. i would probably come under the dark colored folk. and sprinkled around the pub were the usual Sarong Party Girls.

there are two types of SPGs. the old veteran original ones and the younger clones. the other time i was here, there were a few young clones to which i thought they have gotten uglier as the years pass by.

by my side was an old one with an equally old (judging by the accent) Englishman. thank god she didnt have that annoying accent that’s neither here nor there and on top of that many had bad grammar and bad pronunciation…

in front of me were the club members who have now broken into a hoo-haa-we-are-alltogether rendition of Ring Of Fire. i smiled in a mixture of embarrassment and interest.

i turned around to order a pine of Kilkenny.

bartender: $14…

me: what?

bartender: 14 dollars…

me: 14 bucks!? fucking hell mate…

he smiles. i smiled. we understood each other.

the first half of the game began. but for one safe by Juskaalainen from a Steve Finnan try there wasnt much that happened in the first half. it seemed Big Sam’s Trotters are trudging through.

in between an American came in and asked in the nasal drawl,’is this a Championship game.’

‘it is a League game,’ said the Bartender in his unusual forced and somewhat exaggerated Singapore accent. i almost coughed on my Kilkenny.

‘Gosh! there’s like no seats outside,’ he said again.

i was trying my very best to refrain myself from saying, ‘dude! can you not talk through your nose?’

anyway, the bartender was nice enough to sort it out. nasal or no nasal, they probably were spending big.

i continued watching the game with much hope more than anything. 3 ciggies already wasted. a whole pine downed. score is still 0-0.

half time.

me ‘one more please.’

the bartender turned on the taps immediately as i said that. it is the convenience of being stationed near the bar and near the bartender.

as he gives the pine i asked,’you NOT a Liverpool fan?’

he shakes his head.

‘West Ham.’ he says.

i smiled. at this day and age, a West Ham supporter is rare in this part of the world. it was something admirable. almost everyone else except for this pub are the dreaded fairweather Manchester United fans. we continued to chat for a bit about West Ham’s manager change and their relegation chances and then i was off to the loo.

i came back to the same spot. pine untouched, ashtray cleaned, SPG jiggling her D cup breasts, and the club members singing about winning the European Cup 5 times.

while Dyksey and McMahon were chatting on the tele, the bartender tapped on my shoulder.

‘that Waitress A likes you,’ he points to one of the cute waitresses. She glances at me while carrying a bowl of chips and another bowl of calamari. i smiled at her. she gave a half smile in return.

maybe i had that look of disbelief. what i really wanted to go for was the non-chalant, cool appearance. i suppose i failed. i think what i really looked like was an moron. maybe that was the reason for that half smile.

by that time the game had already started. my focus shifted away from breasts and arses and back to the football.

come one reds…

after a few scares as Anelka raced through the Liverpool defence, suddenly the ball found Pennant. and he crosses and the cross found Crouchie and he unleashed a scissors kick. GOAL!

the pub erupts, i clapped and then i saw Waitress A bending down to pick up a pen. her arse in full theatre dolby surround view.

nice…

at the end of the game the club members made a circle, arms around shoulders and sang that song again.

Liverpool had won 3-0, saw a nice piece of tush, 2 pines of Kilkenny, and ego a little bit boosted.

i think i shall smile for a few more minutes now…

Soundtrack of the day: Tales from the Forest of Gnomes by Wolfmother

Finger Acrobatics Perfomed by Avloomat at 1211Hrs

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