“Did you order these?” asks the Wetherspoon bartender. He’s holding a tray loaded with two glasses of pinot grigio and two strawberry daiquiris. Yes, it’s only around 4:30pm on a weekday; but isn’t there a risk that January could become so dry that it could even become dangerous? And also: isn’t strawberry one of our five a day?
“Well, we technically didn’t order those ourselves, but yes, they are ours,” I confirm.
The bartender looks confused.
“Were they ordered for table one?” I check.
“Yes, but we have three,” he says.
“Right.” Now I’m confused too.
In the midst of all this confusion, my friend Emma and I are playing the Wetherspoons game, the object of which is essentially to get strangers to buy free drinks and possibly food through a Facebook group. In the days before the Internet, we would have called this “flirting with someone at a bar.” Luckily, you don’t even have to meet your benefactors. This is thanks to the design of the pub chain’s mobile app, which allows people to remotely order drinks and food from a specific table in any of Britain’s almost 900 pubs, provided they know the table number. (I should clarify that the game actually has nothing to do with flirting. It’s much more platonic and heartwarming than that.)
This week, the country’s new pastime made headlines after the number of people 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, there are now drinkers in Wetherspoon pubs across the country enjoying the generosity of strangers every day from 4pm. Today Emma and I decided to join them.
‘We both feel genuinely and unexpectedly moved’
To participate, one of us (Emma) must first participate in the “Wetherspoons The Game!” Facebook group, founded not by the pub chain, but by a man called Chris Illman in 2018, after he was diagnosed with cancer and had just had a break-up with his partner. Once settled at a table in your local ‘Spoons’ (as the pub is affectionately known), you can make your case for free drinks in the group, stating the name of the pub and your table number.
If you’re lucky, a river of booze will flow your way shortly afterwards, as generous members order for you via the app, wherever they are in the country.
Emma captioned her post: ‘I’m about to catch up with my lovely friend after working in Leeds for a year.’ She adds the name of the pub, The Alfred Herring in North London, and posts a photo of us smiling hopefully.
Her message is quickly rejected by the moderator, apparently because she forgot to say “please” or “thank you.” One of the rules of the game is that you must be polite. This is nice: it is largely the same approach I use with my children. (“No daiquiris until you say the magic word.”)
Emma reposts her plea, adding a “thank you” and a “much appreciated.” This time it makes the cut.
Nothing happens for the next few minutes. We face stiff competition. Someone called Kyra in Washington, Tyne and Wear is away for her mother-in-law’s birthday and doesn’t go out much because she has a baby. Kayleigh in Durham is enjoying her first child-free evening 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 begin to resign ourselves to rejection.
But then, 13 minutes after Emma’s message appears, our first Good Samaritan, a woman called Abbie from Manchester, receives a message telling us she’s sent two daiquiris 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 has been restored; it turns out that four drinks are enough.
We decide to spread the love we have received by offering the wine to a middle-aged couple who are quietly having a drink at another table. They look suspicious, and they might, since we are real strangers and not the ones from the internet.
“We’re playing ‘Wetherspoons The Game!’” I explain. “Have you heard of it?”
They didn’t, but they take the wine anyway, after I promised them that our lips didn’t touch the glasses.
Meanwhile, back in the Facebook group, two female students in Eastbourne, who see each other very rarely and have just completed assignments, have been sent some crisps by a woman who lives in Ipswich. A woman from Burton in Staffordshire also sends them some chips. Luckily they like chips, and they said so.
There are a lot of students in the group who are on the hunt for a few free drinks. Usually they have little money and are very thirsty. There are also couples for a romantic evening; guys are having a rough week; groups of friends or guys are up all night trying to get lucky, or at least until closing time. And then there are the drinkers who have something to celebrate, usually a job or exam.
‘It feels like playing God and it’s a real thrill’
Participating feels a bit like trying to crowdfund an all-inclusive vacation. But those who ask for the charity of others promise to repay it.
Christian Bracegirdle, 19, from Blackpool, played the game for the first time this week while visiting one of his locals, The Velvet Coaster. “I came out after work for a last minute date night,” he posted. “Anything alcoholic is highly appreciated and will return the favor.”
So how did he fare?
“I did pretty well,” he says with some understatement. “We have eight shots of schnapps and two halves of Bud Light.”
That’s four shots and a half pint each for him and his girlfriend, Madison, 20. Maybe it’s a life stage thing (I’m a little over 19), but that seems like a lot for a Tuesday night. Weren’t they completely drunk afterward?
“Yes we were.”
After these drinks were delivered, the group moderator intervened to end Bracegirdle’s game, “to help Wetherspoons with licensing laws and for responsible drinking”.
Did that mean home time for the young couple – or did it mean they had to switch to buying their own drinks?
“We bought our own drinks.”
Illman, 42, expects the Facebook group he founded to have a million members by the end of the year. This seems completely plausible.
As with any game, there are different rules. No players under the age of 18 are allowed to play, and you may be required to provide ID if you look under 25. Disappointingly, neither Emma nor I are asked to show ID.
You cannot be pregnant, drive, have allergies or have childcare obligations. In theory, both Emma and I have childcare obligations. But today we managed to avoid them for the greater purpose of playing a cafe drinking game. One day our children will undoubtedly understand.
Players are asked not to place ‘silly orders’. This is to prevent people from sending bowls of peas or red peppers to a table, which has previously been a problem.
“It’s not fair to Wetherspoon staff to have to keep making bowls of peas and bringing them out,” Illman has explained.
Responsible drinking is requested, although definitions of responsible may vary. Drinking strawberry daiquiris before our kids’ tea time feels like the height of irresponsibility to me. I’m thankful no one decided to send us eight shots of schnapps.
At home I try to be on the giving side, helping to finance some total strangers’ night out. I choose a woman called Jordan, who is sitting in a pub in Sheffield with a friend who is angry because she has failed a university exam. The friend likes white wine, so I go to the Wetherspoon app and order two glasses of pinot grigio for their table. The process is incredibly simple and the order totals less than £5, but it feels like playing God and it’s quite a rush.
Illman doesn’t just bring joy through the game. He also encourages players to order meals from takeout boxes for the homeless.
The pub chain itself will probably be a little happy as a result of all this. By Illman’s estimate, his games have made Wetherspoon at least £1 million.
The chain says it does not discuss revenues, but spokesman Eddie Gershon notes: “The company is not involved in the game. It was started by an individual and its success is due to his hard work and skills. We are pleased that it has proven so popular.”