It's Football Jim but not as you know it.
So I go along to a football match. England : Russia in the euro competition. It's been shown on a big screen at a city pub. My job? Photograph the crowd. So I'm making my way through the crowd of red and white England shirts. The match hasn't even started and beer bottles are being thrown and beer is flying through the air. I'm not getting paid enough for this. Our perky little brits are chanting and throwing bottles, demonstrating their tribal roots, I find plenty of nice people to photograph around the edges and at the back. But the mosh pit is brutal. In front of the stage beer and testosterone combine. I finally get onto the stage to photograph the whole crowd. Alongside the other photographers we are bombarded with bottles and beer caps. The actual beer doesn't reach us at the back of the stage, that's where we stay, just out of range.
At half time I've had enough. I leave. I am just outside when a group of young people accost me demanding I take a group photo of them. They are proudly eastern European and turn out to be the nicest people.