Day 2

Security is tight here in Frankfurt and that can be good news, because the security guards are usually blonde, young, female and pretty. It means that security checks can be a pleasant experience.

But not everybody is going through the checks. Some people have gained access into the stadium without the appropriate ticket, or, in some cases, without any ticket at all. It helps if you befriend one of the men manning the turnstile. He will be so overcome with emotion and kindness that he might forget to ask your for your ticket.

Everybody here is wearing an England shirt, eating a frankfurter, drinking beer, and sweating like a rotting vegetable. It is a stadium of 49,000 clones. It is hot. The players are hot, too, but they are young enough and fit enough to deal with the inconvenience. And they look better in their shirts.

The German organisers have decided that silence is not good for business. So when there is no football in the stadium, there is music. The music is always loud and the lyrics always in English. It is so that everybody in the world, including the Germans, can understand it.

Kick-off is fast approaching so time to huddle down with the Barmy Army and get my Engerlund on.