the french, the brandywell and some rotten chips

I was in a Ballymena chip shop last night (no surprise there then) watching Derry City playing football against Paris Saint Germain [now, for the uninitiated and for the purposes of this story, it is important that you know that Ballymena is a largely unionist town (Ian Paisley is their MP - nough said) and that Derry City are perceived to be a nationalist football club (they are a northern irish team playing in the southern irish league - nough said)

You could say I was surprised, then, by the level of support Derry were getting from the shaven head, UDA tattooed, rangers shirt wearing locals. There we all were, eyes glued to the screen, all willing our food to take 90 odd minutes to cook, and all, to a man, supporting the men in red and white.

There was even a highly amusing moment when a PSG player barged into Kevin McHugh in the penalty area. As the referee waved away pleas for a spot kick one rather large monobrowed customer gave off "Get to **** you fenian ******! That was a penalty!" It was a moment that, could I get away with it, I would use as an example of irony in my lessons for years to come.

Despite the fact that the match was being played at fortress Brandywell and that PSG fielded a weakened team, the 0-0 result was a fantastic reward for the Candy men and we cheered and hollered and waved our arms in the air as the final whistle was blown. The chips were awful though.