It was shortly after the final whistle had blown on England’s semi-final victory over the Netherlands that the barrage began. First one plastic cup landed in the press box, beer exploding from it in a sticky fountain, then another and another until all you could hear other than the insistent PA was the crump of plastic on desk and the shouts of journalists taking hits and trying to protect their laptops.
Looking up towards the tier from which they came, there was a terrible beauty to it, the cups with their furls of lager illuminated in the floodlit sky, falling slowly with an implausible grace before their liquid detonation.
