Drowning our sorrows at Twickenham with England rugby fans

I hate rugby. Dull, uninspiring, and frankly pointless are some of the words I’d use to describe it – but I gritted my teeth and travelled to the Richmond World Cup Fanzone for the second time in as many weeks to gauge the mood of the 10,000 supporters in attendance.

With my finest Primark shirt in the wash, I had to resort to my most stylish Matalan clobber in a frankly unsuccessful attempt to fit in with the gilet-wearing, Bollinger-drinking locals. That being said, with England suffering defeat on the night, the atmosphere by 10pm was far from the middle-class utopia referred to by fans I spoke to previously.

Things started so well, as you can tell from the smiling faces of Kelly and Lucy, both teachers.

They said: “It’s going to be a great night, the people here are so lovely and well behaved. If we get conviction on the pitch from the England lads there’s every chance we’ll be victorious.”

Self-confessed Nigel Farage lookalike Richard was again in attendance after we met him last time.

He said: “It’s great to see you again! Yes, I’ve been so impressed with the manners and candour of the English supporters. They really do put football fans to shame.”

However things soon turned nasty as Stuart Lancaster’s men fell to a 33-13 defeat to the Aussies and a festival atmosphere began to take hold. And no, not the good kind. Think Little Mix at a heavy metal concert.

Litter was strewn everywhere as kids played in a field of discarded cans and bottles. Meanwhile, half the crowd spent the majority of the game fixated on the ‘Land Rover Experience’ area at the back of the Fanzone. The inner walls of the park were festooned in the urine of men who couldn’t be bothered to queue, while on at least three occasions I was offered herbal cannabis.

Predictably, as soon as the full-time whistle sounded, hundreds of inebriated members of the middle-class lost the plot. Within minutes, fights broke out, barriers were hurled at the police, and helicopters and riot vans descended on the leafy suburbs of Richmond.

It was hard not to laugh as middle-aged men in corduroy trouser and jacket combos argued among themselves, armed with a bottle of Peroni in one hand and a half-smoked Marlboro in the other. Meanwhile, jumped-up private school-educated Hooray Henrys fuelled the fire with bizarre whooping and cries of “Look, look Hugo and Arthur are having a fight!”

The public were quickly ushered out, and no-one could quite believe it.

Lewis, a student, said: “Rugby fans aren’t usually like this, but then just look at how much some of them had to drink. I feel sorry for whoever has to clear this mess up. England were absolutely crap, which didn’t really help.”

Mauro was a bit more cheerful. He said: “It’s lucky I’m Argentinian, no? The English make me laugh because they drink so much yet are surprised when things go wrong!”

Amelia and Mia were also unfazed by the loss. They said: “We’re not going anywhere – we’re going to celebrate all night. The England fans were way too arrogant going into the tournament – up the Aussies!”

So, for hopefully the last ever time, I departed the Richmond Fanzone with a police convoy on one side and rugger fans with egg on their faces on the other. Egg-chasing has not left the legacy on the English public that was intended this autumn, as a section of the supporters showed themselves up and the players performed no better.

As soon as I was free from my Fanzone ordeal I was overcome by relief. This wasn’t only because I was able to clear my lungs of second-hand Pall Mall fumes for the first time in four hours, but because there won’t be another Rugby World Cup for almost half a decade.