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Stella or bitter? Donner or chicken shish? Ruddy or bloody?
Spare a thought for the modern lad.
This is just an example of 3 typical dilemmas he faces every minute of every day. In times of global recession and an ever growing gap between the lad-rich and the lad-poor, maintaining an au naturel ladly aura can be a daunting task for the uninitiated.
Luckily for you p*ssies, re:Spectacle is here with its team of SuperladsTM (est 1278) to guide you through some common scenarios...
Picture This:You’re late for the match, en-route, all alone and without a ruddy beer to hand. Not only that, but word has got out that last weekend you didn’t manage to finish your après-fight kebab so you’re in serious need of some ladpoints. Well, stick with re:Spectacle and we’ll soon get you out of this terrible pickle.
As we all know, Beer invented Football. They are the ultimate partnership: Football is the loving wife who waits home for Beer and looks after the kids, Violence and Racism, while he’s out doing what the f*ck he pleases, and nothing will ever change that. As a result of this divine partnership, the options available to a lad in transit racing against the Sky Sports clock can be widely split into 2 categories – drinking and other. We’ll take the most difficult first.
Driving
By far the worst method of transport is driving, and it basically boils down to damage limitation, so if you ever find yourself in this situation for god’s sake get talksport on and play it loud. If it’s not already a radio preset of yours it looks like we got to you too late, so stop reading this now and please click here. For the rest of you, the lads at the pub will want to know why you’re late for the bloody big one so keeping up to date with the score is the least you could do to maintain your rep.
And remember: it’s always the bloody big one.
As far as actual driving goes, typical lad standards still apply so aim for an average speed of at least 10mph above what you assume the local speed limit to be. Take care not to actually notice any speed limit signs and please, for the love of Christ, remember to undertake erratically, change lanes without indication and keep the revs high.
If your car’s an automatic you may as well forget about the match and concentrate on grabbing a Panini en-route to your pilates class.
Upon arrival dump your car where it will be safe for at least the next 48 hours. This is the big one, remember? If you were planning on sticking to a few Britvics before promptly slinking back home in the gaywagon you arrived in you should have stayed at home to browse through your extensive thong collection in front of Sex & the City.
Drinking.
If you’re one of the few fortunate lads who have been graced with a reliable local public transport system covering all the bases (the local, an offie and your humble abode) then well done: you are in what we call a “drinkable situation”. But be aware, this is no lighthearted option or casual possibility - this is a god given right. In fact, assuming there is sufficient opportunity (3mins+), en-route drinking is nothing less than your moral duty as a lad, and abstinence would be second only to self-castration so you’d better drop by the nearest offie at all costs and earn those fleshy little balls of yours.
In today’s globalised economy, with such a vast selection of beers available in even the most modest of licensed vendors, it might prove difficult to spot the Stella. But it’s there alright. It’s always there. Now you’re back on your way with beers – good start – but don’t go spoiling it by clumsily unfurling your headphones to keep up to pace with the footie - there’s bigger fish to fry. The modern day lad is under immense pressure, and the competition so stiff, that whilst talksport is a necessary part of sober en-route protocol it pales into insignificance in the face of the colossal returns attainable through public drinking. Have you ever seen someone portray the rowdy lad on a train whilst intently keeping up to date with the football on a personal radio?
That question was intended to be rhetorical and I will therefore ignore its existence completely.
The fact is there are far more lad points to be picked up in the field of public drinking alone than in any other field - including spouse abuse - so until you finally set foot in that ladhole where football and beer cavort with each other in blissful unity you should reduce all football related functions down to unpredictable smatterings of aggressive chants. This will leave you free to concentrate on public nudity, widespread intimidation, casual sexual harassment and a constant flow of lad cordial all the way to the ruddy pub.
Result.
Bob Crunkhouse
(click for more "Through The Pint Glass")
