Gallagher Stadium is a noise trap. It’s a simple square of stands, no roof gaps. When 2,000 people shout “Come on you Stones!”, it sounds like a jet engine in a biscuit tin. Visiting players hate it. They look like they’re trying to hear in a tornado.
And the fans? They don’t just sing. They invent songs. One chant goes: “We’ve got a stadium with a bar and a fence, you’ve got a skip and pretend it’s immense.” That’s poetry, people.
The snack bar conspiracy
The hot dogs at the snack bar are a mystery. They appear from behind a tiny window that’s too narrow for a cat. The sausages are either perfect or suspiciously grey. There is no middle ground.
Coffee comes in a cup that says “Hot Liquid” in Comic Sans. You’ll drink it because you’re freezing. Your hands will thaw. Your dignity will not.
