Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

Warsash, England

Holland's exit from Euro 2008 at the feet of the mystical Russians brought on one of those "ashamed to be English" moments.

I had just suffered 120 minutes of unfathomably poor football - such a contrast from the slick destruction of Italy, France and Romania in the group stages - in the company of the , an organisation formed in 1971 as a social outlet for Netherlanders in Hampshire.

With at times studious concentration, we watched the game in the function room of a working men's club in Warsash, one of the launch sites for the Normandy landings.

As we were offering our condolences to our hosts at the end of the evening, in walked a middle-aged man, presumably from the 21st birthday party going on next door. His message was heartfelt and genuine: "Sorry about you elimination but you Dutch are lovely people and it's great to have you all here. Better luck next time!"

Unfortunately, every sixth syllable was punctuated with the f-word. As the heads of the assorted men, women and children span round "Exorcist"-style to see who had badly misjudged the evening, the chap mumbled a drunken apology and stumbled out.

What made his misdemeanour even harder to accept was that we had also been joined for the evening by 14 sailors from a Dutch Navy ship moored for 48 hours in Southampton Docks.

Edgar, the ship's first hydrographer, Paul, the chief cook, plus the captain, nurse, etc, had all embraced the family occasion. Despite obvious frustration at their , limited alcohol and not a single swear word had passed their lips.

I don't know what the opposite of the is, but I have it. After our first week on the road, we'd shared four wins with Euro 2008 supporters, two defeats and one draw. Since then, not a single victory. I've actually been with fans of all three losing quarter-finalists.

This was revealed to the Dutch as we de-rigged our equipment. I hope nobody tells the Spanish about my jinx. We're with them next.