We go down to the pub and watch football all the time, of course-- European football. Soccer. And I enjoy it. Sometimes they show rugby, which enjoy even more, despite knowing less about it. But last night was the Super Bowl.

I adore American football.

We don't get to see it very often, which is sad, but they said they'd do a lock in and show the Super Bowl for us at the pub. There was a pretty good turnout, too, especially considering that it didn't end until 3:30 am-- or whenever it was, I made a point of not looking at my watch-- and that folks have to work in the morning. We told all the Americans we knew, most of whom went to the party at NATO. Some showed up at the pub, although we ended up sitting with our British friends, plus one Canadian.

Scarf Guy was there. Turns out he's a huge fan of American football, which I find a bit odd since he doesn't seem to be the type, somehow. Then again, I suppose it is like him to become an expert on a sport that no one else around him knows much, if anything, about. And he certainly does know his stuff-- more than I do when it comes to statistics and trivia.

I was sitting next to Headmistress, and explained what was going on to her. This came in handy, from her point of view, because Scarf Guy kept quizzing her on the game as if she were a recalcitrant five year old. Thanks to me, she already knew the answers and could dispense with his rather patronizing explanations.

In fact, Headmistress ended up liking football a whole lot. Her only disappointment is that she'll have to wait until next season to see another one, and might have forgotten the rules by then. She will also, I suspect, miss "all those nice bums in their tight silver trousers."

I like Headmistress. She knows what's important.

She also, and I don't like this bit too much, has a thing for Robbie Williams. Not just a thing; an obsession. Which we found out all about last night, because the pub was playing a music channel before the game, and the music channel in question is currently in the middle of "Robbie Week".

Such joy.

To summarize, not only were we subjected to an entire evening of the Song Stylings of Robbie Williams (who isn't that bad of a singer, but is way too enamoured of himself) and Take That (which is better, because I got to giggle at the clothes and hair), but we were also subjected to Headmistress's Robbie Trivia, not to mention the general gushing and drooling. So now I know, for example, that Robbie got that scar on his forehead from drunkenly falling headfirst into a hotel fountain somewhere in Italy. Previously, I didn't even know he had a scar on his forehead, much less from whence it came. Somehow or other, I do not feel intellectually enriched.

Note to Mr. Williams: I don't know who told you that embroidering your initials on the back pockets of your jeans (one cheek an "R", one a "W") was a cool thing to do, but they were wrong. Furthermore, chewing off poor Darryl Hannah's face is not sexy. I could go on, but I'll limit myself to one final thing: I've noticed a certain "fringe theme" going on in a lot of your videos-- you really need to watch that.

So, all in all, a very good time. Tampa won, which made me happy, and the Raiders managed to play a bit of catch up to make it interesting. It's such a shame that so many Super Bowls end up being completely boring blow outs-- especially since we don't get to watch the high-quality, Super Bowl commercials over here.

No pub tonight. We're going to stay in and watch Buffy kick some ass on DVD.

Which is just as well, as I'm not entirely sure when "Robbie Week" ends. I'll have to ask Headmistress next time I see her.