Most of them, you'll realise, are terminally single, or shackled to women so neurotic/hideous/smelly that even those meths sodden tramps we were laughing at earlier would think twice about touching them.
The only reason they got into football in the first place was because it gave them an excuse to get out of the house that didn't involve conversations with other sentient beings beyond racist chants and ridiculous tirades about goal averages and the past form of northern teams no-one really cares about.
People who like football are scared of real life. They don't think they're man enough to interact with the world, they don't have the wit or the panache or the intelligence or the finesse that allows a decent human to discuss art or love or the truth of the universe, so they immerse themselves in a meaningless diversion.
The point, it seems, is if anyone asks what they fill their days with, they can say "football" rather than "trainspotting" or "stalking" or, worst of the lot, "nothing at all". And the irony of this pubs farrago is that it's finally shown exactly how empty football supporters lives really are.
I think all football obsessives are frauds.
I don't think they really care about football. They find it as tedious and unbearable as the rest of us.
Anyone with a fully functioning frontal lobe can see that football is the most tiresome activity on the planet.
But if the football fans admit the truth then they also have to admit the full extent of their loneliness and despair, so they keep on bluffing for all they're worth.
Which is why live football has to be watched in a pub with alcohol. Or why supporters get thoroughly rat-arsed before stumbling onto the terraces.
Watching football sober is like Chinese water torture. Times ten. It's boredom and pain fused together in one hideously sadistic package. But watching football pissed is great. Because being pissed, full stop, is great, and nothing can ruin that.