Football fan, hooligan; rugby fan, gentleman

I got a 24-hour pass from SWMBO last week and had a very enjoyable boys’ away day with both my BIL’s and good friend RC.

We met up at our cheap and cheerful hotel in Milton Keynes late afternoon and after much debate over a beer decided that the fare on offer in the hotel (“sorry, we only do sandwiches and pizza before 6pm”) was not up to our standards.

So, we set off for the route march to Stadium MK, with our tickets for the France v Canada RWC 2015 match safely deposited in my bum bag (why do they call it a bum bag when the item in question is carried at the front?)

And I mean route march. Not that the others felt it was more than a comfortable stroll, passing the time with idle chit-chat as yours truly lagged behind, a huffing and a puffing.

Some days later, well, 30 minutes or so later, we arrived outside the stadium. Ah – plenty of gourmet food on offer to suit our tastes. We all agreed - you can’t beat a good burger with onions and a paper plate of chips. Plus, of course, plenty of ketchup.

It was as we were standing by the burger emporium that I first noticed something odd. There were thousands of people milling around. Vocal French fans, boisterous Canadian supporters, excited neutrals and RWC volunteers handing out French and Canadian flags – but not a single policeman.

I thought then that I’d play Spot the Cop as we walked around the outside of the stadium to get to our entrance on the other side of the ground. I failed miserably.

Now I am sure they were there, in the background, monitoring the CCTV but how refreshing not to see lines of police clad in reflective gear.

Yet it’s so different when attending a football match. For instance, the minute you walk out of the tube station in north London, enroute to The Emirates, you cannot help but notice the police. They are everywhere, and in large numbers.

It is so refreshing to see rival supporters having a chat and even sitting together in the stadium, without a violent intention.

That would never happen at a football ground. I remember some moons ago watching a Charity Shield game at Wembley between by beloved Arsenal and Man. Utd.

I was with some friends, all MU supporters, in the MU end of the ground. Arsenal scored. I cheered internally. Act cool, Trigger.

A fellow Gooner a few rows down, however, leapt to his feet in celebration – and promptly got jumped on by three or four blokes.