In the UK there are generally two obsessions : alcohol and sport. The latter may astonish some, but we are talking about a country where nearly 25 percent of residents are obese , sometimes so much that you must cross the street because no one could pass on the same sidewalk with them. Understandably, the relationship between sport and Wampe if one is remembered that "sports" is understood here in a passive rather than active sense. While running two-thirds of the islanders in jogging pants and Umbro T-Shirts , sometimes in complete Match Clothing the favorite team through the area, though only up to the nearest pub, where the telly is and where it is passively participating in sports events. The only movements are then lifting the right arm to the beer drinking and lifting the left arm to the handle in the chip bag. The poor wretch, the true fate of urination comes, snorting and roaring back to the counter to heavily back on his stool and sink can be immediately devote Pint and screen. This is true both for thick and thin for his contemporaries, whose clumsiness and Schnauberei then 3 boxes Flupp due on the date (the price of which, moreover, each Hartz IV daily rate to six times higher than would be).
I had the pleasure of one of the sports (TV) highlights of the year experience in a small Eckpub in Liverpool (with the assistance of a German drinking companions) may be the hard way: The " Grand National". In addition to football, rugby and cricket are British namely horse lovers and anyone who wants to race horses at pubertal Horrererfahrungen with classmates the same age ("I have this afternoon to the barn") thinks or Queen, I here think again. The Grand National has that is as much with Wendy -read, braces-wearing, 14-year Rotzgöre or sonntagnachmittäglicher boredom when Spring Tournament who do, too dependent on the early evening, even once can lead to cardiac arrest, Dieter Bohlen as with music taste. The Grand National is sweat, blood and muscle power, so what right for men. 40 horses to go there at the start, 13 are in this year came to the finish, all others are stuck at some of the deadly hedgerows, obstacles and ditches, fallen, or from heart failure died (maybe).
the best thing Grand National is that it takes place in Liverpool and one of the most important horse race in the world. Throughout the weekend, the Hotzewolotze gathered at Aintree Pavilion , even the scum throws in cheap suits and is now seen to nurnoch his toothless . The ladies scratch while trying to grab the biggest hat, each other's eyes out and the whole town is drunk categorically. Let's go with the first race on Friday, in which the jockeys that wring the main race after the horse is the last to less good horses you can show. Not as many are killed and there are fewer bone fractures.
it happened so that we more or less random in this Eckpub in the city landed and wanted to agree early Friday afternoon with a few Pints schonmal evening on the Ladies Night , also under the race held and would have been in view of the many drunken, half-naked, screaming women not to endure sober. At the time, ran on the television in the pub already said the first Heats, the Pubpublikum was mostly busy in newspapers and betting odds favorites to stress and telephone betting to give than we an elderly man who has spent the sight, his whole life in this place, with unmistakable Irish accent as German exposed and began to talk. Three Pints later we knew everything about his family, first, second, that his wife "a bitch bleeding " and thirdly, that win Ruby Walsh the Grand National would . With German skepticism we began, of course, investigative likely to bring this statement to light, the Irish devil, who has lived 60 years in Liverpool and earlier had to do themselves (own data after) with horses), had actually typed all Heats correctly, one of which Ruby Walsh also won. Well angeschickert we received so tempt the bookies next door place a bet. There were plans for a total of 2.50 pounds, ominous way, perhaps only out of ignorance, we have finally paid 10 pounds, but the horse had to be in fourth but also to have to clear some coal .
Tapert The next day we stand again in the same good cheer pint , absolutely convinced, a surefire tip given to have. At 16.15 CET time had come and the noise level rose by eight times when the horses losgallopierten . The world seemed to stand still, in the shopping street peered people through the window, the ladies from the nearby travel agency had made her store for half an hour sealed and had all gathered at the pub, beer splashed through the area - and Ruby Walsh failed! We had the "surefire" Gaul prefer slaughtered on the spot, which has emerged as a thirteenth in the standings until nothing more. In retrospect, I
must say, however, that the ten toads for 24 hours fun and excitement and a feeling of invincibility were designed really well. However, I may have made myself, to observe said pub as long as until the dubious pensioner reappears and I spit in his beer when he does not hinguckt!
I had the pleasure of one of the sports (TV) highlights of the year experience in a small Eckpub in Liverpool (with the assistance of a German drinking companions) may be the hard way: The " Grand National". In addition to football, rugby and cricket are British namely horse lovers and anyone who wants to race horses at pubertal Horrererfahrungen with classmates the same age ("I have this afternoon to the barn") thinks or Queen, I here think again. The Grand National has that is as much with Wendy -read, braces-wearing, 14-year Rotzgöre or sonntagnachmittäglicher boredom when Spring Tournament who do, too dependent on the early evening, even once can lead to cardiac arrest, Dieter Bohlen as with music taste. The Grand National is sweat, blood and muscle power, so what right for men. 40 horses to go there at the start, 13 are in this year came to the finish, all others are stuck at some of the deadly hedgerows, obstacles and ditches, fallen, or from heart failure died (maybe).
the best thing Grand National is that it takes place in Liverpool and one of the most important horse race in the world. Throughout the weekend, the Hotzewolotze gathered at Aintree Pavilion , even the scum throws in cheap suits and is now seen to nurnoch his toothless . The ladies scratch while trying to grab the biggest hat, each other's eyes out and the whole town is drunk categorically. Let's go with the first race on Friday, in which the jockeys that wring the main race after the horse is the last to less good horses you can show. Not as many are killed and there are fewer bone fractures.
it happened so that we more or less random in this Eckpub in the city landed and wanted to agree early Friday afternoon with a few Pints schonmal evening on the Ladies Night , also under the race held and would have been in view of the many drunken, half-naked, screaming women not to endure sober. At the time, ran on the television in the pub already said the first Heats, the Pubpublikum was mostly busy in newspapers and betting odds favorites to stress and telephone betting to give than we an elderly man who has spent the sight, his whole life in this place, with unmistakable Irish accent as German exposed and began to talk. Three Pints later we knew everything about his family, first, second, that his wife "a bitch bleeding " and thirdly, that win Ruby Walsh the Grand National would . With German skepticism we began, of course, investigative likely to bring this statement to light, the Irish devil, who has lived 60 years in Liverpool and earlier had to do themselves (own data after) with horses), had actually typed all Heats correctly, one of which Ruby Walsh also won. Well angeschickert we received so tempt the bookies next door place a bet. There were plans for a total of 2.50 pounds, ominous way, perhaps only out of ignorance, we have finally paid 10 pounds, but the horse had to be in fourth but also to have to clear some coal .
Tapert The next day we stand again in the same good cheer pint , absolutely convinced, a surefire tip given to have. At 16.15 CET time had come and the noise level rose by eight times when the horses losgallopierten . The world seemed to stand still, in the shopping street peered people through the window, the ladies from the nearby travel agency had made her store for half an hour sealed and had all gathered at the pub, beer splashed through the area - and Ruby Walsh failed! We had the "surefire" Gaul prefer slaughtered on the spot, which has emerged as a thirteenth in the standings until nothing more. In retrospect, I
must say, however, that the ten toads for 24 hours fun and excitement and a feeling of invincibility were designed really well. However, I may have made myself, to observe said pub as long as until the dubious pensioner reappears and I spit in his beer when he does not hinguckt!
