vitriol

There’s safety in numbers. You can say what you like. Mild mannered people and aggressive people alike scream: ‘You Wanker!’; ‘You’re Shit; You’re Shit!’ and more and more. Part of the challenge of watching a football match is to find new things to say or old things to say for ninety minutes. The man beside me gives a running commentary. He’s on first name terms with Frank and ‘Ernan and Maka.

Aggression released is a kind of buzz. Exiting in the throng, someone says – You’ve got to give it out. They give it out so you’ve got to give it back. He breaks off to scream at another unspecified Scouse section of the crowd.

The blur of bodies is dizzying. For a while my head goes walkabouts, lost on a biologically induced E trip. Within five minutes I’ve come down. Head pegged back to feet pegged back to ground. I’m ready for anything now. Whatever vitriol should come my way.