Not scary and Ultra friendly

I LOST count of the people who told me I was mad to go to Russia – the warnings and horror stories came thick and fast.

If the gangs of teen girl thugs or feral dogs didn’t get me, I’d be poisoned or battered senseless by bare-chested Ultras.

After a week in St Petersburg, I can safely say it’s the friendliest tournament I’ve been to from the last 12 Euros and World Cups.

If you’re an England fan, get on with it and get out there.

Locals bought me beers, were unfailingly polite, inquisitive and increasingly full of fun as the famous long nights wore on.

One young bloke didn’t have much time for Theresa May – all the more reason to embrace him and have yet another cheap pint.