Nairobi, May 7 -- I still haven't cracked the psychology of it. People who walk into a bar, order a soda, and babysit it for 90 minutes just to hate-watch Manchester United play Liverpool FC.

Then, after all that emotional self-harm, they leave clutching their chests; they had survived a minor cardiac event. Surely something stronger in the glass would've made the suffering more bearable, or at least more dignified. A little whisky could have softened the trauma. Even science would agree.

The four gentlemen across from me in Arsenal jerseys were prime exhibits of this madness. Loud fellows, all armed with sodas and unnecessary confidence. I was seated on the second floor.

Lacoste, Mbita's only establishment with genuine bourgeois aspir...