Last night I went to the local pub to watch the Champions League final between Man UTD and Chelski. The problem with this is, I live in Manchester and I’m a Liverpool fan; so naturally I was supporting Chelski. So there I was, surrounded by nouveaux Man UTD fans, listening to their stupid, moronic chants.

First off, the imbeciles were singing ‘Rooney, Rooney, Rooney’… which I naturally thought was ‘Munich, Munich, Munich’ – to which I was reliably informed not to sing as it wouldn’t have gone down well. No, they were chanting for Wayne Rooney, their Liverpudlian striker. This was promptly followed by a song about burning scousers on a bonfire, despite the only scouser actually playing in the game, playing for them. The aforementioned Wayne Rooney.

Dumb fuckers.

They then went on an anti-City chant, singing about how Man City should, and I quote ‘Fuck off home’. This was sung to the tune of ‘nick-nack-paddy-whack’, a cockney song… hmm, a bunch of United fans singing a cockney song while watching their team playing against a London club. I actually pointed this out to the room in my usual subtle style, shouting why are you dumb bastards singing a fucking cockney song? They didn’t really have an answer.

Then, when United scored through Ronaldo, the tossers became quite obnoxious. Luckily, it wasn’t long before Frank Lampard equalised, prompting the whole pub to go quiet… save for me. I was jumping up in the air cheering. The caused quite a stir, and some guy in his late 50s, in a Man UTD shirt obviously (actually, it was a ‘Manchester’ t-shirt, maybe he couldn’t afford a football shirt) came up to me and said I was a ‘marked man’. If I didn’t leave the pub I’d be dead by the end of the game.

I did ask him as politely as I could ‘How old are you?’, to which he replied ‘It doesn’t fuckin’ matter, you’re a dead man’.

Petrified, I ordered another round of Guinness. The woman next to me at the bar was pissing herself, and asked why the old man wanted to kill me just because I was a Chelsea fan in Manchester. I corrected her that, firstly, I’m a Liverpool supporter, and secondly, we’re in Stockport. Another fact that seemed completely alien to the ‘Manchester United’ fans.

Sadly the game ended with Terry and Anelka missing the decisive kicks, prompting some annoying celebrations from the pub. One kid, who must have been around 19, went round people hugging them. He came to me with his arms outstretched and, before he got to me, said ‘are you a United fan?’ as he approached. I said quite abruptly, ‘no’, and pushed him away.

He wasn’t happy. For some reason he wanted to ‘kick my head in’. Naturally he didn’t, being a typical United fan. Just like the old guy who said I was a ‘marked man’.

What’s worse is now all of the closet fans will be out, sporting their shirts that haven’t seen the light of day since about this time last year when United last won the Premiership.

It’s all summed up I guess by Sky Sports News yesterday morning when they interviewed some United fans in Red Square in Moscow. They had their Man U shirts on and a large Man U banner. ‘So where are you from?’ asked the presenter… ‘Essex’ said the glory hunting twat with a grin.

The roads around Manchester airport were very busy this morning, probably due to all the Man UTD fans fucking off back to London.

In fact I work with a guy who would make the perfect Man U fan; he doesn’t live in Manchester and he knows fuck all about football.

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