Two tribes go to war

A month ago I went to see Simon Amstell doing stand up in Truro , where, interestingly I found that it doesn't matter where you go in the UK every Wetherspoons on a Friday night is filled with the exact same people. Which was comforting and depressing in equal measure. There is the River Island tribe in stripey shirts and the occasional shouts of 'whey!' to ensure their dominance is signaled to the other pub patrons, there are their older counterparts - good, hard, British men who smoke and make comments to the girls that are decked out in tiny skirts and tinier tops, there is the underage punk/goth kids who have (presumably) been thrown out of every other establishment and are thus left with the only option of entering the one pub in the land that is the antithesis for all they believe in but, crucially, is the only one that will serve them without ID checking - though, to be fair, having grown up in a provincial English town myself, your choices are limited as far as 'alternative' entertainment goes at that age - unless you know someone with a car willing to drive you around for free (in my case these persons were known as 'Mum' and 'Papa Mikey') it's Wetherspoons or Wetherspoons for cheap Friday night entertainment if booze is your only consideration (once 'good atmosphere' and 'pleasant surroundings' enter into the equation you are old enough to transport yourself wherever your heart may desire and have the appropriate paper work to not run the risk of being turned away so Wetherspoons frequenting becomes less of a necessity). Then of course there is me and my friend who wanted quorn chilli and a pint of cider to while away the time before Simon Amstell took to the stage. Once again an oddity wherever we may be. That is until other Amstell fans start showing up in tight jeans and colourful sweaters and ironic 'Neil Diamond' t-shirts and curly hair (none of which I have but I clearly have more to do with this tribe than any of the others - we share shy looks at recognition at one another when we pass in the pub and later, when we are in the venue, our eyes occasionally meet again and we nod imperceptibly).

I just can't decide whether I like that. That I can be sure I know what I'll find in a Wetherspoons no matter where I am in the country on a Friday night OR if this signals a supreme lack of imagination on our fair isle as to the tribes we each sign up for and what that entails. Regardless, the show was intensely inspiring and sort of proved that, every now and again, there exists an individual unlike anyone else. (That person is me)*

*Jokes.