10 typical Hong Kong Rugby Sevens fans

Like Halloween, the Sevens tournament guarantees maximum effort when it comes to fancy dress. This year expect epic topical costumes such as crazily coiffed Donald Trumps, the annoying as fuck PPAP man and maybe something really meta like a guy dressed as Kanye dressing as Kanye because no one loves Kanye like Kanye loves Kanye.

Suffused with a ‘go big or go home’ attitude, this attendee starts drinking way too early, has no idea how to pace themselves and ends the day before it’s even begun in a tepid pool of puke and regret. Their friends tell them to slow down, only to be rewarded with bearing the burden of their wasted mate until they can palm them off into a taxi and back to bed.

Some girls just love using fancy dress as an excuse to dress a little more, ahem, revealingly than they normally would. They’ll make costumes with no provocative undertones erupt with sexuality. Previous sightings have included a ‘sexy’ CY Leung and we predict The Donald in a short skirt and cropped shirt. 

Call them fakes, plastics, wannabe know-it-alls or maybe glory hunters, this lot don’t really care about rugby at all, but they turn up and force their opinions on you anyway. They’re not sure which team is currently playing as they shout in your ear, but they’re insisting that last phase was offside. They’ve got no time for this ref, either.

Some people just haven’t got time for the lavatory. The queues are long, the toilets are a mess and the game is riveting. So, they reason, why waste time leaving the stand when you can just piss in a cup instead? Even better, they don’t even bother to put the cup on the floor where it could be knocked over. Nah, they just lob it into the crowd and share their golden shower with everyone.

There’re a lot of balls flying around during the Sevens and some people just can’t contain their own. Perhaps it’s a warm day and the combination of a stiflingly hot animal onesie and copious amounts of booze isn’t working out as well as they thought, so they just need to slip into their birthday suit. The nakedness inevitably invokes feelings of liberation, causing the streaker to share this euphoria in a triumphant, bare-all run across the pitch. 

Though they’ve paced themselves and tried their hardest not to end the day in dishevelment, these lush individuals can’t avoid the inevitable surge of emotions that comes at the climax of a hard day’s drinking. Perhaps their team lost, or maybe they’re just overcome with joy at what a great day they’ve had and, having lost the ability to express themselves through coherent sentences, can only express their elation through tears.

This lot are just here for the ride. They have complimentary tickets and guzzle free flow champagne in private boxes. Probably working in a high pressure industry, they use the tournament as an excuse to get away from the wife and kids. Or so we imagine; we’ve never actually managed to get close enough to these corporate bigwigs to ask.

These guys have been a permanent fixture at the Sevens since year one. They proudly sport their vintage tops and remember the ‘good old days’ (no doubt pre 97) before all the Johnny-come-lately fans spoilt the occasion. They’ll be there until the very end, however, whatever their complaints.

Of course, most people are not costumed, binge-drinking drunkards at the tournament. Many are there for the love of the game and to cheer on their team in the most up-to-date jersey with passion and devotion. They’re here for the highs and the lows and a general adoration of rugby, no matter what the chances of their team actually winning the big one.