overheard,
orange 1 'what are they then ?'
orange 2 'they're baloons, why ?'
orange 1 'what shall we do then ?'
orange 2 'eh! what ya mean, have we heard anythin'
orange 1 'no, not yet'
& these are the ones who ejected a fan for having a can of coke,
under the guise of an offensive weapon,
i rest my case m'lud
I had a row with one of them outside before kick-off. It was indirectly prompted by a row with a programme "seller", so I'll tell you that for background.
Part One
We didn't see any of our usual programme vendor's today, despite arriving at exactly the same time as we usually do. If you walk around anti-clockwise from Carpark C, there's a little office (before you get to the brick stairs) that claims to be for programme selling. So we tried there.
Bloke: "We aint got any"
Us: "Why not?"
Bloke" We've sold out".
Me: "Really? How is that possible? We always get here at this time, and there's always plenty. How have we sold out?"
Bloke: "(smiling) It's a massive crowd, we sold out ages ago".
Me: "No it isn't, it's a meaningless game for us.."
Bloke: (shrugs) "We've sold out".
Me: "Is this office where the stock for all the vendors is distributed from?"
Bloke: "Yes".
Me: "So did you receive the same amount of stock today as you usually do?"
Bloke: "Yes".
Me: "So the stock level of programmes ordered hasn't been reduced due to administration?"
Bloke: "No, we got exactly the same amount as we always do".
Me (incredulous): "You're lying! There's no way that you can have sold out an hour earlier today than any other game if you had the same amount of stock-they're normally still selling them at half-time!"
Bloke: (lots of hand-waving) "I'm telling you, we got the same level of stock, it's a big game, we've sold out!".
I gave up at this point.
Part Two
Now this office is between the big slope with the concreted off lane on the way to the turnstiles; it's quite a walk back to go around, so we naturally walked up the stone steps. The top of them is always cordoned off by metal barriers at the top, but they can be opened by hand, they aren't locked. Well sod it if we were going to walk all the way around, those steps were obviously intended to be used originally, so we walked up them....
Bloke (shouting from his office): "Oi, you can't go that way!"
Me: "Why not?" (carries on walking).
Bloke (running out of his office): "I said you can't go that way!"
Me: "Fuck off mate, why not? That bloke's using them (pointing at my mate, pretending I don't know him

) ...they're steps, get over it".
Already walking up these Steps You Can't Use is an Orange Goon...
Bloke (to Goon): "Eh, tell him will you, he can't go that way!"
Goon: "...."..shrugs, looks disinterested. Then as I walk up the stairs, decides to pipe up with the mantra "Eh, you can't go that way!"
Me: "Oh, don't be silly, I'm not walking all the way back there, I'm using these steps, and anyway,
you're using them!".
Goon: "They're cordoned off for a reason".
Me: "Are they? What's the reason, then?"
Goon: (pauses...I love the way you can
actually hear these fucker's cogs going around!): "...."
Me: "You don't know! Typical..."
Goon: "Arsehole.."
Me: "What was that?"
Goon: "You heard".
Me: "What right do you have to call one of the paying supporters of this club an arsehole? We pay your wages!"
Goon: "Yeah, you're an arsehole".
Me: "That's shocking customer service; I want your name and number".
I got his number-number 9, Response. I then started going into the turnstile, and after a delayed Response

p) suddenly starts shouting after me as I go through..
"Yeah, allright, you can have my name, it's (something unpronounceable, began with an a...Admiral Akbar? Something like that....)."
I'll make a complaint; whoever he is employed by obviously doesn't give a crap about the supporters. As a result of the 5 minutes before entering the ground I was bloody furious for the first 20 minutes. If I was a casual supporter taking in a game, I wouldn't exactly be enamoured by the experience and probably wouldn't go back.
Oh and LOL at the idea of it being a "massive game"...they really do think that we're all idiots, don't they?