My mate and I decamped to a different part of the Emirates this season and, after nearly eight months in our new seats, I am able to assess our neighbours and, alas, come up with some pretty damning findings.

In front of us we have three of the most annoying kids imaginable. Think Macauly Culkin at his most nauseous and then multiply by ten. This trio of cherubs don’t stop nattering inanities throughout the match in a way that would make the most peace loving individual (such as my good self) advocate that infanticide becomes compulsory, possibly even at pre-conception stage. If nothing else, it’s a salutary remainder to all of child bearing age to carry a condom at all times.

Sometimes the cherubs’ dad comes but he’s worse. Much worse. He doesn’t have the excuse of youth on his side. His favourite phrase is ‘Use it, Denilson’; he adorns this demand with affectionate epithets like ‘Use it, Denilson, you w***er’. Every so often he’s quite encouraging and says, ‘well played, Eboue, you c***’ We are still waiting with wonderment to what expression he might call upon when a player does something to really rile him.

And very occasionally, ‘Mr Use It, You W***er’ brings his daughter to the game. If only he had remembered to feed the poor waif first. She spends the entire match demanding sweets and drinks from her dad who then has to cajole and bribe her into waiting until half time. This is, you might be surprised to learn, a tad irritating.

The two blokes to our right sit with a perpetual scowl across their faces, arms crossed, body language screaming out ‘we don’t want to be here…’ For some inexplicable reason they have a vendetta against Almunia and even when the England number one saved a penalty against Aston Villa, they slumped into their chairs and refused to clap. And as for poor old Super Nick - the delight they take in disparaging the dithering Dane is dreadful.

The chap three rows in front appears to be on day release from the local care in the community as his garbled remarks bear no resemblance to the match everyone else is watching. He hurls his comments (possibly abuse, possibly praise – it’s difficult to know) at anything that moves, regardless of which team they play for. But, alas, his vocabulary is limited and his enunciation lacks a certain crystal clarity so we are left with a burbled, blathering babble of… well… basically bollocks. What’s even more unforgivable is that he sings out of tune with an emphasis on the minor key - a heinous crime by anyone’s standards.

It is more than likely that we are sitting in the most famished, thirsty and possibly incontinent row in the stadium judging by the number of people who seem medically unable to sustain themselves without food, drink or toiletry functions for longer than five minutes. We are constantly up on our feet, letting people out and then back. I reckon over the course of the season we have missed on average six minutes per match which is about 108 minutes : this constitutes more than one complete match missed owing to other people’s bladder complaints and apparently incurable malnutrition.

My conclusion from all of this? It would appear that our new neighbours are not a happy bunch - it certainly seems that no one around is enjoying themselves. Multiply the moaning, groaning, frowning, munching, abuse hurling and toilet trotting by 60,000 and you probably have one of the reasons for the strange atmosphere that pervades the Emirates.

To preserve my identify and to stop any legal action being taken against me, I have altered the locations of the offending fans… Besides, with the price of a season ticket at the Emirates, I have no money so it would be pointless to sue me!