‘So why is it that these two teams ended up playing each other then?’ asked Jim, who knew nothing about football.
     ‘Well it’s a friendly init,’ replied Nat, as if that were all the explanation Jim required.
     Jim sipped thoughtfully from his pint and looked up ready to make another point to his brother. At that moment though the team in yellow scored a goal and the whole pub erupted in celebration. Among them was Nat. After his initial shock Jim, who had not been watching the match, wondered if he had ever seen Nat look so happy. Then he went on to think, as the bar settled down again, that he had never seen Nat in the throws of an orgasm and as such was not the best judge. His next thought was that he could probably quite easily go the rest of his like without having the pleasure of witnessing his brother in carnal delight, and so went back to sipping his pint thoughtfully.
     He was glancing at the one lady in the pub, who sat opposite him. She had long black hair, swept back into a high pony-tail, a style that always reminded Jim of show jumping horses, and wore a tight black dress that she kept tugging at, trying in vain to cover more of her thighs. The chap she sat next to, as all the other men in the Blue Moon were, was engrossed in the match. Jim imagined that she was probably thinking that this was not the night out that she had been promised. Mainly due to the fact that he was thinking exactly the same thing. He could probably go over and start up a conversation and her fella would neither notice nor care. It could be harmless enough and the two of them could entertain themselves instead of having to sit through the tedious display of watching twenty-two men kicking a ball up and down a field. Jim was not interested in her, not sexually anyway, and in situations like this one (where the testosterone was thick in the air) a female ally was just what he needed. He wouldn’t go over though and that thought depressed him. Her chap would inevitably look round and get the wrong idea which would either lead to Jim getting thumped or a hurried explanation about his sexuality and intentions toward the lady. Which would either end up in Jim getting thumped or would at the very least leave the chap feeling uncomfortable and ruin everyone’s evening. This would then lead inevitably to arguments between the couple, her screaming at him to be more sensitive and worldly, and him pleading his case with ignorance. Jim decided it was therefore best to leave them both alone, he had no desire to drive a wedge between the parents of the poor little child who at that moment was undoubtedly lying in bed wondering when mum and dad would be coming home from their night out. Of course this could have all been speculation on Jim’s behalf but just to be on the safe side he thought it best to give chatting to the lady a miss this time.
      Quite understandably Jim hated pubs like this. However, it was Nat’s night and he had proclaimed, much to Jim’s dismay, that he wanted to watch the football and have a couple of quiet drinks down the Moon. Well it was his birthday. Dinner had been a spectacular disaster, as usual. The pair’s biannual outing with the parentage on each of their birthdays was an affair that none of the four parties involved particularly looked forward to. Jim had never known four people that had less in common with each other. This time round Nat had hardly uttered a word, leaving Jim to nervously fill the dinner talk himself. He attempted to lavish the group with all of the interesting situations that he had found himself in since their last meeting. He had of-course had to censor most of them for his mother’s sake which had only left him with a very short story about a broken photocopier at work. Even that had ended with him flirting with the repairman, an ending that given his chance again he may have chosen to omit, due to his father’s lengthy silence and Nat’s stifled giggles. His mother had, Lord bless her, made an attempt to seem interested in his love life, but refused to say the word ‘him’ when referring to a potential partner.
       ‘Are you going to see them again?’
       Was one of her favourites, which made Jim feel like he was either involved in some new age sex group, or was dating a Schizophrenic.
The meal had eventually come to and end and Jim and Nat had managed to retreat to the relative safety of the nearest pub before their mother suggested that they ‘go on’ somewhere else for a drink.They had learnt to avoid this situation the hard way, on Jim’s 24th birthday mother had suggested just this and they had all ended up sitting in silence in the Hogshead. A bunch of Nat’s old school friends had chanced in and had stayed over the far side of the pub, throwing quiet abuse and eventually peanuts their way. You could have fried eggs on Nat’s face.
       The evening had not been a complete loss though, Jim had thought to himself as Nat and he chatted about something and nothing in the Blue Moon. In fact Jim found it quite interesting to become briefly involved in his little brother’s life again for a while. However then the football had started and Jim had found himself in his current predicament.
        ‘Another pint?’
        Jim had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed that the match had reached half time. He glanced up at his female compadre who was shouting something above the din to her boyfriend, who in turn was glancing wistfully at his group of mates who had all just erupted into laughter.
         ‘How long’s the second half? Asked Jim.
         ‘As long as the first one,’ snorted Nat getting to his feet.
         ‘Might give that drink a miss then,’ said Jim indignantly. He realised as soon as Nat had wandered up to the bar though that he was being much like he was when they were kids, cutting off his nose to spite his face. Why not put himself out for his brother on his birthday. He doubted very much that Nat would do the same thing when it came to his birthday but that was hardly the point, and wasn’t a particularly nice way to live one’s life. He had now reached the grand old age of 28 and thought that maybe it was about time that he grew up.
         ‘A gin and tonic,’ he called after his brother, whose hulky form was now leaned nonchalantly on the bar. He didn’t look over but waved a hand in way of acknowledgment.