: Mon Apr 20, 2009 11:03 am
Go to Perpignan for last away game of season. Get really, really drunk, and then point at a passing Catalan fan, tugging at your own Wakey shirt, suggesting in that silent way that a shirt-swap ought to happen, even though you know that he is much smaller than you, and that by the time you get his on you'll look like a bag full of sausages. Then wake up the next morning and then reflect on the fact that you kind of liked your wakey shirt and that the Catalan shirt is a bit of a cheap, shiny affair that doesn't fit.
That's how I got mine.