I did once. On the astroturf at kings cross at night in winter. Turned up expecting to play for the Euston team as normal, but have shockingly been dropped. Not only dropped, but would I mind being the ref? I was that pished off about not getting a game, I really wanted to march off with my nose in the air, not stopping to look back, Pererya style. But there was some money for doing it. £10 or something and I was cheap to buy in those days of youth. Still, I only did it very grudgingly and was not in the best humour. I tried to be as even handed as possible, perhaps even favouring the opposing Clapham Junction Strollers (or whoever it was we were playing) on some occasions due to my disgusting and undeserved dropping. I really did try to do me best. But. Any and every decision given to my team got disputed increasingly hotly, however obvious and clear, on the grounds that I was one of their team. There was sarcasm, there was backchat and snidy little remarks. It was more than I could stand. Eventually their little No. 7 who was about a foot shorter than me, called me a very rude name (of the sort that would shame a politics section). Right to my face. I'm ashamed to say, dear reader, that I fuxking lost it. Saw red. Fortunately I didn't catch No.7, but I did square up to, well I believe it was all members of both teams and scream about taking on anybody or everybody who wanted some whilst doing the aggressive clenched fist dart forward boogie Well there were no takers. And eventually after calming down a bit, I was somehow persuaded to continue officiating rather than have no ref at all. The remaining 87 and a half minutes of the game were a misery though. Can't remember who won. Sod refereeing. That was my first and last time. Not for £10, not for £1000.