That, and screaming abuse at the opposition team, fans, and umpire.

The fun-police seem hell bent on banning this sort of activity – it is as daft as Lara Bingle suing Zoo Weekly for defamation for running bikini photos of her – is that a blonde lawyer joke or what?

I despair of what this country is coming to sometimes.

Yobbo, I always ask the question: you want a libertarian GOVERMENT. Isn’t it a contradiction in terms?

And when it comes down to it, if the organisers think they can make more cash out of the family market than they can out of the yobs market, then more luck to them. But I know that as well as my ticket money, I can easily drop $100 on full-strength beers and crap pies. And so do the 5 guys I go with.

Now, I keep my ticket money, and spend $30 on a case to watch the game at home. If I feel like a crowd atmosphere, I can wander over to the pub across the road and watch it on the big screen, and still not pay a lot more.

At C-W concerts there are 2 kinds of fans:

(1) Those that want to sit in their seats and watch the concert. They’re usually older, middle-class, and very articulate about what they want.

(2) Those yonger fans that go to have an ass-kicking good time.

And of course, what (1) considers an enjoyable evening is usually at odds with what (2) does.

So what happens? Group (1), the articulate ones, conmplain to the city-employed managers of the venue. Those managers read the riot act to the private company supervisor. And geuss what? More security, less fun.

I’m willing to bet that every rule that chafes your butt can be traced directly back to some paying customer bitching to the venue operators, or team officials, or such. One articulate complainer can have rules put in place that bug the shit out of 99 non-articulate non-complainers everyday.

they feel the urge to continuously add to the limits and requirements for other people in order to achieve some additional effect, rather than have the maturity and ability to be able to sit back and look at the total effect.

Light beer, a general ban on fun, and the prohibition of the revered ‘beer snake’. We were left to rely on over-inflated condoms for excitement and intrigue – would the wind guide them onto the field where they’d unceremoniously pop on contact with grassy blades?

In a spirit of open defiance, we launched a mexican wave that travelled 14 times around the ground (is that a record?). But I was still left underwhelmed and asked myself; what happened to our beloved game?

The other games are Sat night (I play golf on Sat, and by the time I get home, I don’t feel like going out again) or Homebush where we have crap seats at what is probably the worst AFL venue in the country.

It’s not to say that I won’t go to the odd game, but I’m happy to stump up the general admission fee, and most likely sit in the same seats, as they never seem to be reallocated.