I am surrounded by testosterone-charged men and some for whom surging male hormones are but yet a dream, yelling in unison that the referee doesn't know what he's doing.
I expected the overriding aroma to be one of body odour and the great scent of Lynx. But all I can smell is washing powder on freshly-laundered fan kits.
We're at Ashton Gate for Bristol City's last game of the season. There's a record crowd of 25,404 for this match against Birmingham City. I don't like football but I love the fact that Mr Grigg's team has Drink Up Thy Zider as a theme tune. There are lots of male bonding moments.
Bristol City lose 1-0 but there's a consolation prize later as the home team does a parade around the ground. Mr Grigg buys me a new red hoodie, just to annoy our neighbour, and then we have a couple of pints of cider and a live set by The Wurzels.
That's about it.