My day at the football.

Restricted view from my seat. We also gave Liverpool two goals to aim at - still they could not score.

Who ate all the pies?

500 balloons.

Shaking hands (for now anyway)

Look carefully - only Liverpool on the pitch! They still could not score.

The offending item.

I can't begin to define why I like going to the football. I first went to see Everton in the early 70s; then in the later years of that decade I hardly missed a game. I continued to support the blues through the 80s - even attending the 1985 FA Cup Final on the eve of my university finals. In the 90s I hardly went at all, In recent years though  I have rediscovered the habit of going to Goodison Park and supporting the mighty blues. Today was an especially good game, with Everton beating their neighbours Liverpool by two goals to nil.  As I said, it is hard to define why I like going; after all, it costs around £50, the seats are the size of table spoons, and the facilities leave much to be desired. But for 90 minutes I can stop being Mr Responsible and yell totally unfair things at people I don't know. The referee is always short sighted, and always wrong (except when giving Everton a penalty). The opposing team are always vicious thugs, and my team always innocent of any misdemeanour. So in short I can pay £50 and become an irrational fanatic, and later, feeling relieved of the tension, return to Normalville, carrying on as if nothing had happened.