You get up at 4am to drive 50 miles out of London, to an airport that claims to be in London. You have to pay to check a bag in, check yourself in and get a small bag to put your toothpaste it. You get on a plane that has enough legroom for a small child. You are subjected to rude cabin crew, constant adverts extolling the virtues of premium spirits and scratch cards. You eventually get off the plane at the destination only to find you are in another region (or country if you are unlucky) and then have to pay a fortune to get the only bus (run by the airline) that runs to the nearest point of habitation. Twenty four hours later you do the whole sorry mess again. Why? BECAUSE WE LOVE FOOTBALL!
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