Sitting on the train returning to Nottingham on Wednesday morning I was idly reflecting on what felt like the most satisfying visit to the Emirates yet. (Yes, I know some won't call it TES, but that's what it is!). The result was right even if the performance was below par; the atmosphere was the best yet; the Beast notched his first; but there was something else.

For me that something was being in a pub on Upper Street after the game and spending half and hour chatting to three Hamburg fans who had wandered in to drown their sorrows. Three thoroughly good lads (with great English!) who despite their team currently being "absolutely crap" (international language) had followed them on every journey, and will be in the Allianz Stadion in Munich this weekend for what they expect will be another pummelling.

Cast your mind forward to our next game. Will we be drinking with opposition fans? Will we hell!

But why not?

Don't get me wrong, I hate Spurs! I love it when they lose, and I will be as full of vitriol on December 2nd as any other Gooner. For 90 odd minutes that is.

Afterwards, I would love to have a few beers with the opposition, because they are just like me. I am a Gooner because of an accident of birth. My Dad took me to my first game in 1962. Arfon Griffiths scored in the first minute against Wolves and I was lost! I took my son to his first match in the mid 80's against Pompey. Paul Davis scored in the first minute and he was lost too! That's how it happens. Standing (when allowed like last night) in Section C I feel more aligned to the 3000 in the opposite corner than I do to the majority of the prawn sandwich brigade who tolerate about 70 minutes of action to spoil their drinking and eating! Why then, have I got to hate them as well as their team?

Last Saturday I was on the train and got talking to a Chelski fan. (Yes they can still speak English!) When I mentioned the vast swathes of empty seats at the end of the Liverpool game he told me that it is exactly the same at Stamford Bridge. I remember leaving the Bridge at the end of the Champions League draw a couple of years ago, knowing I had no chance of a ticket for the second leg to hear three city hoorahs discussing whether they would go to the game. " Yes of course, but do Arsenal play in London??!!" These are the people that I have no time for.

For them, our game and team are their sporting iPods/Xboxes/SUV. The current fad. Money no object but not really that interested. Trouble is, the only way we will lose them is if we start to lose. So it looks like we are stuck with them.

But I don't have to drink with them. Give me a true Scum/Manc/Scouser/Geordie et al. any day.