The AFL and the NRL seasons draw to a close this weekend, meaning ‘grand final parties’ are on the cards for hundreds of thousands of Australians.

So, what do you do if you find yourself invited (or trapped) at a party this weekend?

Most sports fans, bitterly disappointed in their team for not making it, again, will console themselves by drinking heavily – and others, who just don’t give a toss, will pretend to enjoy it but stare at their phone for the majority, wishing they were anywhere else.

Regardless of your interest levels, there are certain things – or people – you should avoid at all costs.

Richmond supporters

The club’s incomparably feral fan base will be even more unhinged than usual this weekend. They either end a 35-year premiership drought and go batsh–t crazy, or lose and go batsh–t crazy. It won’t be pretty.

Internet betting

The online gambling spruikers will be at you all day, popping up with such frequency you might even consider spending some hard-earned. But the ‘great odds’ and ‘amazing value’ they offer on bullsh–t bets are designed to move you from the comfort of your couch to a soiled, half-burned mattress under a freeway bridge on the fringes of a homeless commune. Don’t do it.

The buzz kill

There’s always one. Some joyless, life-sucking troll who spends the whole day sniping and snarking at the pointlessness of sport. Within 15 minutes of arriving, always as the reluctant partner of another guest, they will attempt to whip up support to change the channel to a home renovation network.

The salmon mousse

Listen to Monty Python. It’s not fresh. It’s not even fresh from the can. If you’re watching the grand final at a mate’s place, it’s probably left over from earlier this month and kept for ‘the ladies’ as an alternative to eating their own body weight in Cheezels and Doritos.

The Rosé drinker

It’s not time yet. The summer hasn’t officially started until the last slightly brain damaged footballer has been stretchered off. But this irritating try-hard has already moved on to thoughts of loose linen shirts on shade-dappled patios, sampling tiny cheeses and this year’s most exciting new releases of pink flavoured lolly water. They’re only at the party because it’s the first chance they’ve had to drink outside in months. The natural ally of the buzz kill, especially when they try to get the numbers for a channel change.

Dave

Dave’s been at the party since 9am – and drunk since 11am. He operates under the ‘first to arrive, last to leave’ motto – something that fills the hosts with dread each time he tells all and sundry. Dave doesn’t like political correctness and while guests have the luxury of avoiding him, the hosts don’t, mindful of keeping the peace between Dave and your ex-housemate’s boyfriend.

The shouter

At one point in the afternoon or evening, you’re bound to wonder if the shouter actually knows the players aren’t wearing an earpiece connected to the lounge room. He shouts at the key men like they will take his frankly garbage suggestions on board and has the annoying habit of talking to the players like they are his mates. ‘Good kick, Dusty’. ‘Nice run, Billy’. ‘Find that gap, Jase’. ‘You’re my boy, Tex’. You know the type. Even on a crowded couch, the shouter finds room by the second half.

The ‘sport shouldn’t be about politics’ person

Will be the only person actually dragging the discussion away from play and onto politics. He needs a double serving of the salmon mousse. Now.