Posted Mon May 29, 2017 | 365 Words | Tagged story footie newcastle

I did a mistake again. I ended up getting the football train again into the city centre. Not being much of a football fan meant I never knew when there was a game on and it always ended up being on a day where I needed or wanted to head into town.

It pulled up full of black and white shirts and my face drops. There’s a bit of space in the end doors so I get in there but I’m still surrounded by fans who have probably started drinking an hour or so beforehand

Also my luck the train had started singing their chants and I didn’t bring any headphones to help block the noise out, even just a little.

Seeing my discomfort one of them, a fit lad who would be my type if it wasn’t for all the noise, offers his seat which I take. The problem being he stands in front of me and I think I caught a wink thrown my way.

“Mate, you wanna drink?” He slurs, clearly a bit drunk. Instead of really giving me an answer, he rips the can of fosters down me. I feel it churn it’s way through. It had a horrid taste but he seemed happy about it.

I feel slightly buzzed from the alcohol or something. He tells me, “mate get that top off”. Something in me makes me comply without any thought of anyone around me.

As soon as it was off I felt a fabric being pushed on and it felt soft and sporty. When I could see again I looked down and saw a football shirt just like his.

He smiled and pulled out another can and I drank it. I was starting to feel happy actually. What was I going into town for? I don’t remember much.

I closed my eyes after a sharp headache hit. I opened my eyes to my mate (that was right wasn’t it?) rubbing against my head. Almost felt like half my hair was coming out. Before I could really think we were getting off the train with everyone else and making my way to the game. Yeah that felt right. Toon army!