The former-Soviet shark has been well and truly jumped.

I understand you visited our city yesterday for some football match or other. I think one or two of you might have had a little bit to drink, and might have forgotten to take your empty bottles and takeaway wrappers back home with you, which meant that my journey to work this morning was an exciting gauntlet of broken glass, stale beer, urine and assorted other detritus.

Now, I know you all came to have a good time and most of you were quite good-natured despite having your arse handed to you on a plate by St Petersburg, but as it’s my council tax that’s going to have to pay for all this clearing up, and I didn’t ask for the match to be held here, I’m a little bit annoyed by it all. Of course, there’s the £20m that’s being “contributed to the local economy” or something that everyone’s bandying about, but as I don’t run a supermarket, pub, off-license or other alcohol retail outlet, I’m going to be seeing precious little of this massive boon to the local economy. I just get to pay for the cleanup.

Oh, and it’d be nice if you could pay for the back door to our office that you kicked in last night, too.

Of course, I got off lightly compared to a friend of mine who was pushed off the platform at Piccadilly by a mob of fans who, angry at being unable to all fit on the small local train they were waiting for, invaded the cab and chased the driver out. You can fuck right off, all of you.