by “Did you order these?” asks the Wetherspoon barman. He is holding a tray laden with two glasses of pinot grigio and two strawberry daiquiris. Yes, it’s only about 4.30pm on weekdays; but isn’t there a risk of January becoming so dry that it’s really dangerous? And also, aren’t strawberries one of our five a day?
“Well, we didn’t technically order those, but yes, they are ours,” I confirm.
The barman looks confused.
“Were they ordered for table one?” I check.
“Yes, but we have three tables,” he says.
“Right.” Now I’m confused, too.
In the midst of all this confusion, my friend Emma and I have been playing a Wetherspoons game, which basically aims to buy strangers cheap drinks, and possibly food, through a Facebook group. In the days before the internet, this would be called “flirting with someone in a bar”. Now, mercifully, you don’t even have to meet your subscribers. This is the result of the pub chain’s mobile app design, which allows people to remotely order drinks and food to a specific table in any of its almost 900 pubs across Britain, provided the table number is on they know. (I should make it clear that the game has nothing to do with dating.
This week, the nation’s new pastime hit the headlines after the number of people who signed up to play it surpassed 500,000. At the time of writing, the Facebook group has 536,000 members.
Since the game went viral in November, drinkers are now in Wetherspoon pubs across the country enjoying the large number of strangers from 4pm every day. Today, Emma and I decided to join them.
‘We both feel really, and unexpectedly, moved’
To take part, one of us (Emma) must first take part in the “Wetherspoons The Game!” A Facebook group, founded not by the pub chain but by a man named Chris Illman in 2018, after being diagnosed with cancer and just after breaking up with his partner. Once you’re installed at a table in your local ‘Spoons’ (as the pub is affectionately known), you can make your case for free drinks in the group, quoting the name of the pub and your table number.
If you’re lucky, a river of booze will be flowing shortly afterwards, as generous members direct you via the app, from wherever they are in the country.
Emma shared her message: “I’m about to catch up with my lovely friend after working away from home in Leeds for a year.” She adds the name of the pub, The Alfred Herring in north London, and sends a picture of us smiling hopefully.
The moderator quickly rejects her post, apparently because she forgot to please or say thank you. One of the rules of the game is you have to be polite. This is fun: it’s the same approach I take with my kids. (“No daiquiris until you say the magic word.”)
Emma repeats her pleas, saying “thank you” and “she is much appreciated”. This time he makes the cut.
For the next few minutes, nothing happens. We are up against stiff competition. A person called Kyra in Washington, Tyne and Wear, is out on her mother-in-law’s birthday and doesn’t go out often because she has a baby. Kayleigh is in Durham enjoying her first night off from the kids in a long time.
“I mean, I wouldn’t buy us a drink if I didn’t know us,” I say to Emma, as we start to get over the rejection.
But then, 13 minutes after Emma’s post appeared, messages from our first Good Samaritan, a woman named Abbie from Manchester, telling us that two daiquiris have been sent our way. Two minutes later, a woman named Kelly says she has ordered two glasses of white for us. We both feel genuinely, and unexpectedly, moved. My faith in humanity is restored; it turns out that four drinks are all he took.
We decide to spread the love we’ve found by offering the wine to a middle-aged couple having a quiet drink at another table. They look at us suspiciously, as well they might, since we are real-life strangers and not strangers from the Internet.
“We’re playing ‘Wetherspoons The Game!’” I explained. “Have you heard about it?”
They haven’t, but they take the wine anyway, as soon as I promised them our lips wouldn’t touch the glasses.
Meanwhile, back in the Facebook group, a woman who lives in Ipswich sent some chips to two female students in Eastbourne, who rarely see each other and have just finished assignments. A woman from Burton in Staffordshire also sends them some chips. Fortunately, they like chips, and they said so.
There are many students in the group looking for a few free drinks. They are usually cash-strapped and very thirsty. Couples are also out for a romantic evening; having a rough week; groups of friends or lads up all night to get lucky, or at least until closing time. And then there are the drinkers who have something to celebrate, usually a job or an exam.
‘It feels like playing God and it’s a good kick’
Getting involved and trying to crowdfund an all-inclusive holiday feels like a small thing. But those who ask for the charity of others promise to pay it back.
Christian Bracegirdle, 19, from Linndubh, played the game for the first time this week during a visit to The Velvet Coaster, one of his local family. “Came out for a last minute date night after work,” he posted. “Anything alcoholic is much appreciated and will return the favor.”
So how did it go?
“I did well,” he says, with some understatement. “We got eight shots of schnapps and two halves of Bud Light.”
That’s four and a half pints each for him and his girlfriend, Madison, 20. Maybe it’s a stage of life thing (I’m a little older than 19) but that seems pretty good for a Tuesday night. Weren’t they quite drunk after that?
“Yes, we were.”
After these drinks were delivered, the group moderator intervened to end the Bracegirdle game, “to assist Wetherspoons with licensing laws and responsible drinking”.
Did that mean home time for the young couple – or did they have to switch to buying their own drinks?
“We bought our own drinks.”
Illman, 42, expects the Facebook group he created to have a million members by the end of the year. This seems entirely plausible.
As with any game, there are some rules. No one under 18 can play, and you may need to provide ID if you watch under 25. It’s disappointing that neither Emma nor I are asked to provide ID.
You should not be pregnant, driving, have allergies or childcare obligations. In theory Emma and I have childcare obligations. But today we managed to avoid these for the sake of playing a pub drinking game. One day our children will undoubtedly understand.
Players are asked to refrain from making “stupid orders”. This is aimed at stopping people from sending bowls of peas or red chillies to a table, which has been a problem in the past.
“It’s not fair for the Wetherspoon team to keep making and giving away pea bowls,” explained Illman.
Responsible drinking is encouraged, although definitions of responsible may vary. I think drinking strawberry daiquiris before our children’s tea time is the height of irresponsibility. I’m just thankful no one decided to send us eight shots of schnapps.
Back home, I try to be on the receiving end, by helping to fund the night for some complete strangers. I choose a woman called Jordan who is at a pub in Sheffield with a friend who is upset after failing a university assessment. The friend likes white wine, so I go on the Wetherspoon app and order two glasses of pinot grigio for their table. The process is extremely easy and the total order is less than £5, but it feels like playing with God and is a good kick.
Illman doesn’t just bring joy through the game. It also encourages players to order meals for the homeless in takeout boxes.
The pub chain itself is certainly feeling some joy too, as a result of all this. By Illman’s estimate, Wetherspoon has made at least £1 million for its games.
The chain says it won’t discuss revenue, but spokesman Eddie Gershon says: “The company has nothing to do with the game. It was founded by a single person and it is hard work and skill that made it successful. We are delighted that it is so popular.”
