I played ‘Wetherspoons The Game’ – it gave me daquiris, wine and faith in humanity

“Did you order these?” inquires the Wetherspoon barman. He’s holding a tray laden with two glasses of pinot grigio and two strawberry daiquiris. Yes, it is only around 4.30pm on a weekday; but isn’t there a risk of January becoming so dry it is actually dangerous? And also, isn’t strawberry one of our five-a-day?

“Well, we didn’t technically order those ourselves, but yes they are ours,” I confirm.

The barman looks confused.

“Were they ordered for table one?” I check.

“Yes, but we have three table ones,” he says.

“Right.” Now I’m confused, too.

Amid all this confusion, my friend Emma and I are playing the Wetherspoons game, the aim of which is, essentially, to be bought free drinks, and possibly food, by strangers via a Facebook group. In the days before the internet, we would have termed this “flirting with someone in a bar”. Now, mercifully, 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 to a specific table in any of its nearly 900 pubs across Britain, provided they know the table number. (I should make clear that the game in fact has nothing to do with flirting. It is far more platonic and heartwarming than that.)

This week, the nation’s new pastime hit the headlines after the number of people signed up to play it passed 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 land enjoying the largesse of strangers from 4pm every day. Today, Emma and I have decided to join them. 

‘We both feel genuinely, and unexpectedly, moved’

To take part, one of us (Emma) must first join the “Wetherspoons The Game!” Facebook group, set up not by the pub chain but by a man called Chris Illman in 2018, after he was diagnosed with cancer and had just gone through a break-up with his partner. Once installed at a table in your local ‘Spoons (as the pub is affectionately known), you may then 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 shortly afterwards flow your way, as generous members order for you via the app, from wherever in the country they find themselves.

Emma composes her message: “Just about to catch up with my lovely friend after working away in Leeds for a year.” She adds the name of the pub, The Alfred Herring in north London, and posts a picture of us smiling in hope.

Her post is swiftly rejected by the moderator, apparently because she forgot to say please or thank you. One of the rules of the game is you must be polite. This is pleasing: it’s much the same approach as I take with my children. (“No daiquiris until you’ve said the magic word.”)

Emma reposts her plea, adding a “thanks” and a “much appreciated”. This time it makes the cut. 

For the next few minutes, nothing happens. We’re up against stiff competition. Someone called Kyra in Washington, Tyne and Wear, is out for her mother-in-law’s birthday and doesn’t go out often as she has a baby. Kayleigh in Durham is enjoying her first kid-free night in a long time.

“I mean, I wouldn’t buy us a drink if I didn’t know us,” I tell Emma, as we start to resign ourselves to rejection.

But then, 13 minutes after Emma’s post appears, our first Good Samaritan, a woman called Abbie from Manchester, messages to tell us she has sent two daiquiris our way. Two minutes later, a woman called Kelly says she’s ordered us two glasses of white. We both feel genuinely, and unexpectedly, moved. My faith in humanity is restored; it turns out that four drinks is all it took.

We decide to spread the love we’ve received by offering the wine to a middle-aged couple having a quiet drink at another table. They look suspicious of us, as well they might, since we are real life strangers and not ones from the internet. 

“We’re playing ‘Wetherspoons The Game!’” I explain. “Have you heard about it?”

They have not, but they take the wine anyway, once I have promised them our lips have not touched the glasses.

Meanwhile, back in the Facebook group, two female students in Eastbourne, who very rarely see each other and have just finished assignments, have been sent some chips by a woman who lives in Ipswich. A woman from Burton in Staffordshire also sends them some chips. Fortunately, they like chips, and have said so.

There are lots of students in the group on the hunt for a few free drinks. Usually they are cash-strapped and very thirsty. There are also couples out for a romantic evening; blokes having a rough week; groups of gal pals or lads up all night to get lucky, or at least up until closing time. And then there are the drinkers with something to celebrate, usually a job or exam. 

‘It feels like playing God and is quite a kick’

Taking part feels a little like trying to crowdfund an all-inclusive holiday. But those who request the charity of others promise to pay it back.

Christian Bracegirdle, 19, from Blackpool, played the game for the first time this week during a visit to The Velvet Coaster, one of his locals. “Came out for a last-minute date night after work,” he posted. “Anything alcoholic is much appreciated and will return the favour.”

So how did he get on? 

“I did quite well,” he says, with some understatement. “We got 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. Perhaps it’s a life stage thing (I am a little older than 19) but that seems like rather a lot for a Tuesday night. Were they not quite drunk after that?

“Yes, we were.”

After these drinks were delivered, the group moderator intervened to end Bracegirdle’s game, “to assist 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 created to rack up a million members by the end of the year. This seems entirely plausible.

As with any game, there are several rules. No under 18s can play, and you may be required to provide ID if you look under 25. Disappointingly, neither Emma nor I are asked to provide ID. 

You must not be pregnant, nor driving, nor have allergies nor childcare obligations. Both Emma and I theoretically do have childcare obligations. But today we have managed to shirk these for the higher purpose of playing a pub drinking game. One day our children will undoubtedly understand. 

Players are asked to refrain from placing “silly orders”. This is aimed at stopping people from sending bowls of peas or red chillies to a table, something that was previously a problem.  

“It’s not fair on Wetherspoon staff to keep having to make and bring out bowls of peas,” Illman has explained.

Responsible drinking is requested, though definitions of responsible may vary. Drinking strawberry daiquiris before our kids’ teatime has finished feels to me like the height of irresponsibility. I’m grateful no one has decided to send us eight shots of schnapps. 

Back home, I try out being on the giving end, by helping to fund the night out of some total strangers. I choose a woman called Jordan who is at a pub in Sheffield with a friend who’s 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 to their table. The process is incredibly easy and the order totals less than £5, but it feels like playing God and is quite a kick.

Illman not only brings joy via the game. He also encourages players to order meals in takeaway boxes for the homeless. 

The pub chain itself must surely be feeling some joy too, as a result of all this. According to Illman’s estimate, his games have made Wetherspoon at least £1 million. 

The chain says it will not discuss revenue, but spokesman Eddie Gershon comments: “The company is not involved in the game. It was set up by an individual and its success is down to his hard work and skill. We are pleased it has proved so popular.”