Published: 30 April, 2015

A LIVELY discussion on Friday night in The Stag, celebrating the 80th birthday of all-year pond swimming legend Mike King, had taken a worrying turn.

Earlier that day Ahmet the Terrible Turk had offered me a chance to see Champions-in-Waiting Chelsea play top four Arsenal. But the catch was… the seat was in the Goons-end. 

The advice from another Arsenal season ticket-holder I was chatting to was: “Don’t do it – you almost got killed at West Ham!” 

Fact is, being spotted in enemy territory is dangerous, as some fans take offence in their sanctity of delusion. But I had a plan, and assured the Terrible Turk I would blend in like a life-long Goon. 

So I arrived prepared, travel blanket, pillow and Sunday Times Rich List. Brilliantly, Ahmet’s terrible-Turk-in-training son Kaya had exactly the same gear. They were well impressed. 

Did it work? My cover was blown in under four minutes. Not by my hosts, but by the other Goon I confided in on Friday night.

“Oi Bruce!” was grunted from four rows behind me. As I, and everyone else, looked round he held his forefinger to his lips and shushed in that international sign that we had a secret that no one should know. And everyone instantly knew I was the enemy.

“I can’t believe he blew my cover,” I complained. Kaya disagreed, “It was blown before that,” he said. “How?” I asked. “You’re too cheerful to be a Gooner,” he replied. He was right, especially as I led the standing ovation for “Our Cesc’s departure with his magic hat.” 

BRUCE MACRAE, NW3