I was reminded today of the famous, nay unique occasion back in August 2003 when a sizeable group of Newcastle United suporters were hosted at the British Ambassador’s residence in Belgrade.

What happened was this.

Newcastle United FC were in town to play a Champions League qualifying match against Partizan Belgrade. A group of supporters – maybe 200 maximum – had travelled to Serbia for the game.

When English soccer fans travel overseas, a complex problem-prevention operation begins, linking up the local and UK police authorities, the clubs, the supporters’ organisations and the nearest British diplomatic mission who have responsibility for ‘consular’ work if trouble ensues.

In this case for what was (in the great scheme of things) a fairly low-key but important match in sleepy mid-August, the usual plans had been set up. The Embassy consular team were on the case.

We at home were in the throes of packing up our belongings, as my posting came to an end in a few days’ time.

The telephone rang. The Embassy consular officer asked me to come to the hotel in central Belgrade where a large group of Newcastle fans were being ‘held’ by the local police before the match.

I arrived. The problem was that the Belgrade police were determined to have no incidents involving English fans, so they had bottled them up in a shabby stifling hotel to wait some eight hours for the game. The fans were not being allowed out into the city, and (not surprisingly) were getting … restive.

I remonstrated unsuccessfully with the senior police officer present. He checked with HQ: Orders were Orders. They had to stay where they were.

As it looked more than likely that a ridiculous punch-up would soon ensue, I had an idea. To invite the mass of fans to my house where they could sit on the grass in the sunshine for a couple of hours, before going to the nearby stadium.

The police, hopelessly outmanoeuvred by this ingenious proposal, saw no reason to argue. I telephoned home:

“200 English football supporters will be arriving in about 30 minutes. Crack open beers and find bread en masse for cheese rolls!”

Thus we had a most enjoyable afternoon as I tried to pick my way through unfamiliar hi-end Geordie accents and the fans telephoned home to tell their mates and families about their unexpected and genial Embassy hosts:

The next couple of hours rank amongst the most remarkable pre-match drink ups that toon travellers have ever enjoyed, fans relaxing against a backdrop of well -manicured lawns and a swimming pool. 

Unfortunately the Pimms was in short supply, but to compensate, copious amounts of local lager and Boddingtons were dished out of large ice-filled bowls by servants, while others circulated with bowls of crisps and plates piled high with pastries.

And while all of this was going on, our former captors the local constabulary stood glaring at us through the railings, the Embassy grounds of course being off limits to them.

Newcastle won a desultory game 1-0 but were knocked out on penalties in the return match.

Is this what Embassies are supposed to do in such cases?

Not exactly.

But as Ambassador I had the privilege of living in a large house in Belgrade to represent UK taxpayers, so as and when some of those taxpayers needed a helping hand in my view they should get it.

And at least the ever-courteous Serbs did not ceremoniously murder any chickens to make a crude half-time gesture.