This is a classic.......
So What's So Special About Rochdale?
At places like Rochdale, there is always a Big Tone. Or at least at places like Rochdale, the Big Tones of this world are more noticeable.
Let us learn a little more about Big Tone. He is northern, and therefore of restricted distribution. He drinks, or more specifically 'Big Tone always has a drink in his hand' (a line usually spouted by Big Tone, about himself in the third-person), and, along with his diet of Kwik Save ready-meals, Mars Bars and Tesco Value crisps, is consequently rather rotund.
Big Tone is, when not at the game, at the boozer. This is on weekdays, including those when there is a game (he 'loses out on drinkin' time' he makes the Tuesday night trips). The boozer is typically of 70s deco, with none of this 'crap modern pop music. 's'all a rip-off o'th Beatles, that's all it is' but rather the mellowing effect of a clock ticking. His favoured position is his 'favourite seat', with his 'favourite glass'; the latter is an old-style tumbler ('none o' this modern glass crap'), the former
skilfully within earshot and indeed eyeshot of the typically tired, past-her-best barmaid, to whom Big Tone regularly throws one-line quips at appropriate intervals (say, every time she speaks). He obviously laughs at his own jokes. He also drinks between times. He is unmarried, heartbreakingly left in his prime by a beautiful girl (a sixteen year-old who slept with him for money when he was 30 and robbed him blind during the night), of whom all the locals hear at least once a week. He is generally, due to his outspoken, articulate views on immigration, young 'uns these days, the state of the country and all things football, and the fact he drinks, considered a local 'legend'.
So Big Tone and football. He's an avid fan, y'know. At least a one-gamer. Big Tones can be heard all over the north-west. Wherever you hear a comments such as, 'Bloody foreigners. Always bloody divin'. All used to be English in my day. That's when proper football were played' (in response to a two-footed tackle from behind); 'Over paid today footballers, that's what they are. I remember when footballers were down't'pit durin'th'week an' playin were a privilege. None o' these bloody sports cars of today' (in response to a player with boots other than black-coloured); 'Get up yer bloody poof' (in response to a fractured skull). 'Yer bloody useless Evans!
No wonder Blackburn got rid of yer!' (directed towards Evans, who was recently released from Preston); 'Sod this, I'm off to United next week' (directed towards anyone who gives a s**t), then they will be from Big Tone. Such acerbic wit and cutting analysis is usually directed to the crowd en masse rather than anyone in particular (the latter would be difficult, because Big Tone usually comes on his own; not only does he know everyone, he says, but 'there's less waitin' about for poncey buggers' if you travel solo).
Now, the beauty about Big Tone is that in a big crowd, he is usually drowned out by others or indeed dragged outside and kicked in. Alas, or maybe Yes!, in places such as Rochdale, he is more than prominent. Whenever you hear you heavily-accented voice talking s**t about football and other topics, that will be Big Tone, tattered anorak, England shirt (or maybe checked shirt, short-sleeved) and ill-fitting jeans. He'll probably have a beer in his hand. He most certainly will be a t**t.
Dave Mills, Rochdale
