Was completely wrecked last night at an MLS match. I wore my Barkley away shirt, naturally, because it's so boss and all.
So I'm standing in the concourse watching the match and some kopite [c-word] starts yelling at me for a good two minutes. I ignore the [c-word] because he's obviously a kopite.
But anyways, he keeps at it, on and on and on. "F you this, F you that." He's standing about five feet behind me. I didn't flinch, I haven't even glanced his way yet. And all of the sudden, my beer magically ends up on his shirt. It was about as dead accurate Leighton Baines' left foot. The guy is drenched in Goose Island 312 and I look over and go "Whoops. My bad, mate." And then walk off to get a refill.
The sneak attack beer toss worked. And I won. Everton won. We all won.