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Thread: Fans, Food and Flinging Mars Bars.

  1. #1 Shankly Fans, Food and Flinging Mars Bars. 
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    Getting a drink and something to eat at Anfield has changed massively over the years. In my time it has gone from: tea and Bovril from an urn that had been heating a corner of the Kop all season, beer in squashy plastic cups that spilt more than they refreshed and pies so hot they could be used to strip paint. One of the greater oddities was the youths, who used to go around the edge of the pitch with those trays the usherettes have in the cinema during intermission, only full of sweets and chocolate bars. They were odd because the transaction was carried out by throwing and involved a great deal of trust not just between the vendor and the customer, but also the rest of the fans.

    The transaction would begin with somebody shouting from the crowd. One of the lads would instantly pick him out of the sea of faces, amazingly. The recipient would shout what they were after and the seller would shout the cost. Money would then be thrown at the pitch in the general direction of the 'shop' and, with tray still attached, would be picked up by the lad who didn't spill a thing. Next, the item purchased (usually a Mars bar) would be thrown back in the general direction of the customer. I say general direction because it was often caught by someone nearby and passed through the crowd to the purchaser, every time. A miracle of communication, co-operation and trust occuring at the heart of the Kop. But it didn't stop there! What about the change? Incredibly, the change would be thrown back into the crowd. Imagine today's 'Health and Safety' mandarins blowing a fuse now over that!

    Believe me, nothing sobers you up like the prospect of receiving a two-bob bit right between the eyes! Everyone knew to pay attention when someone was buying something. Those lads used to have a hell of a throw as well, reaching almost to the back of the Kop with decreasing accuracy. Again, every coin made its way to the customer. I won't lie, I often bought a Mars bar that way for the sheer drama of it. So what has me being nostalgic about the passing of such an incredibly risky and unfeasable shopping experience?

    Yesterday, at the Bolton game, I made the necessary venture to the kiosk at Anfield for a pie and a drink. I got there and couldn't believe my luck. Two queues either side were full, but the one in the middle only had two men side by side. Which one would you go for? Well, if you said the middle one you made the same mistake as me! Two tall Irishmen* (with an accent from the south of that island I couldn't quite place) seemed to have already had a few, had just ordered two bottles of Magners and handed over the cash. On receiving his change Irishman #1 took both bottles and Irishman #2 then ordered two bottles of Carlsberg. Again counter staff ring up the order, retrieve the bottles from the fridge, collect the cash give change and bottles.

    It was at this point that Irishman #3 entered the picture to say " Carroll's on the Bench". Cue Irishman#1 saying "Ah there's Mick! Shall we get him a couple?". After a little debate two more Magners were ordered for 'Mick', rung up, retrieved, paid for and delivered. By this time I was in the shoppers dilemma. The queues either side had moved so much more quickly that had I joined them I'd have been served by now. Should I now change? No, of course not, they would surely be finished now. Except, of course, they weren't.

    Now, remembering another member of the party they had arrived at Anfield with, they then proceeded to order 'two more Magners'. The procedure this time extended by the fact that they only had 'Pear Magners' left and included a debate as to whether this would be acceptable to their newly rediscovered friend. By now several people who had arrived later into the other queues had been served and departed with their food and drink.Mustering 'not a little' sarcasm to cover my rising exasperation I put my head to one side and rested it on my hand, closed my eyes and said loudly "Wake me up when its my turn to get served will you?"

    Without a trace of irony Irishman #1 waves a fist full of Magners in the general direction of the stony faced counter-staffee and said "I know, he's terrible slow isn't he?"
    The formerly stony-faced server's, open-mouthed incredulity and wide eyed stare was mirrored by my own. Finally though, both men lurched off. Stony faces were retrieved from the floor and my order was taken, rung up, retrieved, paid for and delivered.

    I enjoy eating at Anfield even though it has all the feel (and cost) of a motorway services, minus the noisy fruit machines and plus a few more TV's these days. But I still occaisionally yearn for a slightly dented and warm Mars Bar.





    * I thought about not mentioning the origins of the two men at the bar, but then I remembered how many Irish people enjoy a good laugh at the behaviour of their fellow countrymen.
    Last edited by Locutus; 28-8-11 at 18:05.
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  2. #2  
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    Great story, and don't worry about the Irish bit, we enjoy the crac.
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  3. #3  
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    Haha really enjoyed reading this, really made me smile.

    I would rep you but i have obviously given you some very recently and it won't allow me to.

    Thanks
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  4. #4  
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    Quote Originally Posted by robinredshanks View Post
    Great story, and don't worry about the Irish bit, we enjoy the crac.
    High praise indeed from a master of the 'features' forum

    Quote Originally Posted by Matti3 View Post
    Haha really enjoyed reading this, really made me smile.

    I would rep you but i have obviously given you some very recently and it won't allow me to.

    Thanks
    The knowledge of your previous rep and the unexpected thanks more than make up for it!
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    Funny how we remember the little things from the old games. I only ever got wrigleys from the guys who sold from the pitch but still amazed at their accuracy. One of the things i often think of was the old guy who used to jump out of The Kop before the kickoff always to score a goal against Clemance and jump back in the Kop. It became a bit of a 'good luck charm ' thing. Strange how things like a footie game can change as an experience.
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    Quote Originally Posted by UrbanRed View Post
    Funny how we remember the little things from the old games. I only ever got wrigleys from the guys who sold from the pitch but still amazed at their accuracy. One of the things i often think of was the old guy who used to jump out of The Kop before the kickoff always to score a goal against Clemance and jump back in the Kop. It became a bit of a 'good luck charm ' thing. Strange how things like a footie game can change as an experience.
    That was before my time The barriers were already up when I started going!
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    Ha that story made me laugh.

    Do you remember Dr. Fun and that puppet he use to take into the Kop.?

    I believe the poor guy passed away a few years ago.
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    Quote Originally Posted by Flabby2011 View Post
    Ha that story made me laugh.

    Do you remember Dr. Fun and that puppet he use to take into the Kop.?

    I believe the poor guy passed away a few years ago.
    Remember him! He lived round the corner from me! I think his wife still does.
    Didn't always see him in the ground. He dropped the puppet and the rattle just the suit and hat ( and the badges).
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    Quote Originally Posted by robinredshanks View Post
    Great story, and don't worry about the Irish bit, we enjoy the crac.
    robin, you can't be irish, for if you were, you would spell crac right...CRAIC

    craic agus ceol (that means fun and music in irish gaelic...i think )
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    Quote Originally Posted by Locutus View Post
    Remember him! He lived round the corner from me! I think his wife still does.
    Didn't always see him in the ground. He dropped the puppet and the rattle just the suit and hat ( and the badges).
    great story btw locutus
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    Quote Originally Posted by ShaftyBoy View Post
    robin, you can't be irish, for if you were, you would spell crac right...CRAIC

    craic agus ceol (that means fun and music in irish gaelic...i think )
    Plastic paddy, parents from North and South, mixed race, (C+P) a couple of years, as a baby; in Liverpool, then down to London, where I grew older.

    Used to spend summer hols on my Uncles farm, near Newry, Co. Down. Please do not take this as a personal insult, I do know the Gaelic for 'kiss my arse' . I can say it OK, not sure how you spell it.

    Do you know which actor used that as a 'battle cry' in a film?
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    Quote Originally Posted by robinredshanks View Post
    Plastic paddy, parents from North and South, mixed race, (C+P) a couple of years, as a baby; in Liverpool, then down to London, where I grew older.

    Used to spend summer hols on my Uncles farm, near Newry, Co. Down. Please do not take this as a personal insult, I do know the Gaelic for 'kiss my arse' . I can say it OK, not sure how you spell it.

    Do you know which actor used that as a 'battle cry' in a film?
    was it tommy lee jones in that film where he escaped from jail and went to boston to terrorise jeff bridges in boston ?

    'pogue mo thon(sp)' i think is that expression, pronounced 'pogue ma hone'

    i was actually born in southampton meself, parents irish, moved to ireland when i was nine.

    when we lived in southampton there were five of us (children), our neighbours never knew wether my parents were good catholics or sloppy protestants
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    A great read Locutus. Don't worry, I'm Irish and not a bit offended. It is fairly typical behaviour of alot of my fellow countrymen and women.

    It actually explains something that I encountered a few months ago.

    I, like possibly every other Irish red in the country, managed to get tickets to the Europa League final. Ever the optimist I had ordered them in December in the hope that the reds would make the final. (Well, you've got to think you've a chance of getting to a final otherwise why play in the competition *coughNeilWarnockcough*).

    Anyway, I went along to the final in the Aviva stadium anyway. My Dad tagged along with me even though he's a united fan and we took our (fairly good) seats behind one of the goals.

    It was a good half hour before kick off so we said we'd go down to the bars/kiosks to get a couple of drinks.... only to find that none of the bars were open because apparently they 'don't serve alcohol at the soccer matches in the stadium'. Rugby, no problem but not football.

    All this time I was thinking it was discriminatory policy against football 'hooligans' Now I'm thinking it was to avoid the daft Irishmen holding up queues by ordering more and more drinks for their mates!!!
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    This was a great read and just the sort of thing this board was created for, more please
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    Nice post Locutus.

    You may have noticed from a few threads down, I'm used to eating in grander surroundings.

    Queuing up indeed.....
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    great story
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    Ha ha this is a great read. Myself and my mate go over to Anfield for most home games from Ireland every other week. However, even though we are Irish, we have a long running joke where we can spot the Irishmen a mile off (the face is always a giveaway) and say " ah , here come the Irish now , no chance of getting near the bar" we always camp ourselves in front of it!
    Having said that, barmen in Ireland are a cut above the rest, pulling pints with their chins and all sorts. Whereas in Liverpool I always find bar-staff very slow for some reason!
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    Great read! For fans who live thousands of miles from anfield like me, we are able to 'experience' anfield thru your eyes, much different to the 'atmosphere' on telly.
    Its such nitty gritty details that makes 'us' revere a trip to anfield. Oh, plus ofcourse to watch a game.
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    Quote Originally Posted by tweepie View Post
    A great read Locutus. Don't worry, I'm Irish and not a bit offended. It is fairly typical behaviour of alot of my fellow countrymen and women.

    It actually explains something that I encountered a few months ago.

    I, like possibly every other Irish red in the country, managed to get tickets to the Europa League final. Ever the optimist I had ordered them in December in the hope that the reds would make the final. (Well, you've got to think you've a chance of getting to a final otherwise why play in the competition *coughNeilWarnockcough*).

    Anyway, I went along to the final in the Aviva stadium anyway. My Dad tagged along with me even though he's a united fan and we took our (fairly good) seats behind one of the goals.

    It was a good half hour before kick off so we said we'd go down to the bars/kiosks to get a couple of drinks.... only to find that none of the bars were open because apparently they 'don't serve alcohol at the soccer matches in the stadium'. Rugby, no problem but not football.

    All this time I was thinking it was discriminatory policy against football 'hooligans' Now I'm thinking it was to avoid the daft Irishmen holding up queues by ordering more and more drinks for their mates!!!
    Yes its been 'No Alcohol' at European Club Games for many years. Perhaps I should write about travelling with the 'Red Army' through europe (and asia)and the humorous things that happen in search of enough booze.

    Quote Originally Posted by DidiDidIt View Post
    Ha ha this is a great read. Myself and my mate go over to Anfield for most home games from Ireland every other week. However, even though we are Irish, we have a long running joke where we can spot the Irishmen a mile off (the face is always a giveaway) and say " ah , here come the Irish now , no chance of getting near the bar" we always camp ourselves in front of it!
    Having said that, barmen in Ireland are a cut above the rest, pulling pints with their chins and all sorts. Whereas in Liverpool I always find bar-staff very slow for some reason!
    Sounds like its a well known phenomenon over there! Hang on it wasn't you was it?
    Last edited by Locutus; 1-9-11 at 19:56. Reason: o
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    Quote Originally Posted by Locutus View Post
    Yes its been 'No Alcohol' at European Club Games for many years. Perhaps I should write about travelling with the 'Red Army' through europe (and asia)and the humerous things that happen in search of enough booze.



    Sounds like its a well known phenomenon over there! Hang on it wasn't you was it?
    No no it wasn't me, I was sitting alone on Saturday in the ground, although I was loitering around the bar in the Solly before and after the game sipping a sherry having sophisticated chat ....
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    Quote Originally Posted by Matt-CM View Post
    This was a great read and just the sort of thing this board was created for, more please
    I'll post more in here if you like. It was only when I'd explained what happened to my wife and she nearly fell off her chair laughing that I thought that I should share it here.

    Quote Originally Posted by shmar View Post
    Great read! For fans who live thousands of miles from anfield like me, we are able to 'experience' anfield thru your eyes, much different to the 'atmosphere' on telly.
    Its such nitty gritty details that makes 'us' revere a trip to anfield. Oh, plus ofcourse to watch a game.
    I can't think of a greater motivation than to help a fellow red like yourself share the experience. Over the years I have probably stored up thousands of snapshots of comedic scenes following the greatest and funniest bunch of football fans in the land. Maybe I could put them together with some funny stories of Liverpool too! I'll have a go.

    Quote Originally Posted by ShaftyBoy View Post
    great story btw locutus
    Quote Originally Posted by dannyjohnson View Post
    great story
    Thanks to both

    Quote Originally Posted by DuffyWaldorf View Post
    Nice post Locutus.

    You may have noticed from a few threads down, I'm used to eating in grander surroundings.

    Queuing up indeed.....
    I don't know if i'd enjoy it in there. Being amongst the people is what makes it so much more special.
    Last edited by Locutus; 30-8-11 at 11:54.
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    Quote Originally Posted by Locutus View Post

    I don't know if i'd enjoy it in there. Being amongst the people is what makes it so much more special.
    Yea I agree, it was a one off for us, a great day out but it's just not quite the same as being in the stands, but the food was great.
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    Quote Originally Posted by DidiDidIt View Post
    No no it wasn't me, I was sitting alone on Saturday in the ground, although I was loitering around the bar in the Solly before and after the game sipping a sherry having sophisticated chat ....
    Yes that goes down well at the Solly

    Quote Originally Posted by DuffyWaldorf View Post
    Yea I agree, it was a one off for us, a great day out but it's just not quite the same as being in the stands, but the food was great.
    I often wonder what it would be like seeing it from there. Maybe I'll treat myself to this as a one off too, one day.
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    [QUOTE=Locutus;6260986]Yes that goes down well at the Solly



    Indeed old sport , and what a ruddy spiffing day it was on Satur-daaay I must say .... wheeehh
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    Quote Originally Posted by DidiDidIt View Post

    Indeed old sport , and what a ruddy spiffing day it was on Satur-daaay I must say .... wheeehh
    What sherry was that you were drinking?
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    I think I might write another article. Just debating whether to put it in here or start another thread.
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    Quote Originally Posted by ShaftyBoy View Post
    was it tommy lee jones in that film where he escaped from jail and went to boston to terrorise jeff bridges in boston ?

    'pogue mo thon(sp)' i think is that expression, pronounced 'pogue ma hone'

    i was actually born in southampton meself, parents irish, moved to ireland when i was nine.

    when we lived in southampton there were five of us (children), our neighbours never knew wether my parents were good catholics or sloppy protestants
    It was either Oliver Reed, or Richard Harris. They were good friends, and in the same movie. They were also well known for their mad antics and drinking bouts.

    One actor was on horseback, was the commander, and had to lead a battle charge, so he asked the other actor, what would be a good call to arms, battle cry, it was only when the film was shown in Dublin, that the joke played came out.

    Can't remember which film it was, I'll try to check it out.
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    My wife and I don’t have Season tickets. So getting seats at Anfield for all of the games can sometimes be a bit of an adventure. I’m always appreciative of the efforts of the ticket office staff to do their best. I feel like we are in it together. It seems that every other season ‘the powers that be’ change the procedures ‘for the best’ and fans and ticket office alike are left to get on with it. This season it has been particularly problematic. An ‘All Red’ membership did not automatically renew. Getting through on the phone lines was almost impossible and when I found out about the membership problem we realised we couldn’t order together. By the time we worked it out we weren’t hopeful. Fortunately, the wonderful Steph managed to find us tickets for every game except City and QPR (although not always together and, sometimes, not even in the same stand). Hey, no problem ‘In is in’ as they say!

    So it was off to Anfield for the first game of this season, against Sunderland, that we found ourselves in the Main Stand with the same numbered seat, but one digit separating the rows. That’s right – sat one behind the other. It’s at times like these when you find out what a ‘big community’ Liverpool Football Club is and how the supporters make the club. There are many small kindnesses that go on between fans, which often go un-noticed yet contribute to everyone’s sense of belonging. I took up my seat behind my wife. However, it didn’t take long for the guy sat next to Mrs L. to grasp the situation that we were man and wife. Without any request from either of us he gallantly insisted that he and I switch seats so that I could sit next to Mrs L. Stating in perfect English, but with what I took to be a Scandinavian accent “Man and wife should sit together”. Seats were exchanged and a new friendship was cemented.

    Although I live in one of the friendliest cities in the world, full of people who will help complete strangers ‘at the drop of a hat’, I never take such things for granted. It’s nice to see that the ‘Red Army’ includes people from other parts of the world who are just like us. Of course that doesn’t mean that we Liverpudlians always get it right every time. It’s important to understand that for people who aren’t from Liverpool and are used to a more reserved and sedate lifestyle, the immense character, intensely pro-active nature and the frenetically paced speech of Scousers can sometimes take others by surprise. So it proved for two people of our acquaintance
    .
    Just before last Christmas, father and son came to the ‘Liverpool One’ shopping centre, from a nearby town, to do some shopping. The son has some joint problems, although he can walk a little, for longer distances he is usually pushed along in a wheelchair by the father (an elderly but reasonably fit man). Actually the father has fallen arches and is increasingly unsteady so the wheelchair provides discreet stability for him too! Generally, the son will be pushed along the flat or downhill and get out and walk if they go uphill or meet stairs. The father is also terrified of lifts, so much so that he will only enter one if there is no other way to get what he needs. If the son needs anything from upstairs he will get out and walk with the aid of a stick and leave the father in the chair having a rest. This arrangement has served them well as they go around the towns and city centres of the North West. In shops on two levels as far apart as: Warrington, Runcorn, Widnes (their favourite) and Southport. Nobody normally interferes or even offers to help. However, the day they came to Liverpool One will be one they’ll never forget.

    They often enjoy browsing bookshops; particular interests between them are Military History, Art, Music and Liverpool Football Club. On this occasion the son decided to check out the upper level of Waterstones alone. So he left his father sitting in the chair as usual. The son had only just nipped upstairs in the lift when the father was approached by a senior female member of staff to see if he was ok. He managed to get out that he was waiting for his son who had gone upstairs and that was the last thing he managed to say. Next thing he knew she had hold of the handles of the wheelchair and was propelling the horrified man towards the lift and keeping up the kind of rapid fire one-sided conversation that didn’t expect an answer and didn’t allow him to say anything.

    Oblivious to all the gestures by the chairs occupant and attempts to communicate, she negotiated the lift and began careering through passageways of the upper floor past bemused, then slightly concerned, browsers as they witnessed the as the obviously mortified older man. She was on a mission and she took to it with all the sincerity of a charging rhino. Inevitably his utterances unheeded and gestures ignored he was resigned to his fate and realised he just had to go along for the ride.
    We aren’t sure if he actually heard her approaching first but the son was extremely surprised to see his father being pushed towards him as he waited in the queue for the checkout upstairs. Quizzical looks were made by son to father whose own gaze relayed the benign madness of the situation which must be endured for now, but ended as soon as possible. Of course once they were on the upper level there wasn’t anything they could do but go along with it, not that the incredibly garrulous lady left any pause for them to say anything anyway.

    She stayed with them though the checkout keeping up her personal commentary to the, by now, bemused men. After the son collected his goods they heard a pause and looked around to see her imploring face. Not having paid attention to her words they were wondering what this meant. Was it over? Then it dawned on them she was simply asking them if there was anything else they wanted. To which they hopefully stated “No” in concert. ‘Could it be the end’ they were thinking. Sadly, their hopes were dashed as she immediately began pushing the wheelchair containing the father back towards the lift, with the son, tottering with his walking stick in their wake.
    They passed those same shoppers as they went and then down and across to the entrance. She was still deep in her unanswered conversation as she pushed the wheelchair through the exit and bade them farewell. Neither man was able to say whether she was still watching them as the exhausted son replaced his father in the chair. Laughing about it with us later they confided “You wouldn’t get that anywhere else but Liverpool!”
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    What a fantastic feature! My Dad used to tell me about the mars bar throwing, and throwing the change etc, however I never belived him, as it sounded almost unbelivable that the fans helped each other by passing the food/change on, without any stealing. It shows the character of the fans who sit on the Kop.
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    Quote Originally Posted by -Tommy- View Post
    What a fantastic feature! My Dad used to tell me about the mars bar throwing, and throwing the change etc, however I never belived him, as it sounded almost unbelivable that the fans helped each other by passing the food/change on, without any stealing. It shows the character of the fans who sit on the Kop.
    So your dad stood there too eh? It was like being part of the biggest family gathering on the planet.
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