spot the balle

A lorryload of beer and a new language? That'll be the Celtic trip to Stuttgart, then.

Bufferzone has an ongoing commitment to the study of aviation and associated transportational infrastructure. Some comparative analysis was conducted last week in Germany; coinciding, happily, with a visit by Celtic FC to Stuttgart on UEFA Cup business. I flew to Germany on Ryanair, which is rapidly becoming Scotland's national airline. I confess to a new fondness for these Irish fly-boys since they set up a new service this week from Glasgow to Barcelona.

Ryanair's prices, starting at about £65 return from Caledonia to Catalunya, put the fledgling Globespan and Air-Scotland operations in the shade. Extensive sampling on the internet by Old Buffer Personal Travel suggests the two new indigenous enterprises tend to charge two or three times the Ryanair rate on this route. Air-Scotland has a complicated four-tier fare system. In the top Thistle class you pay scheduled airline prices, but you do get three free in-flight drinks and a meal. Plus you get to check in later than the plebs. This aviation apartheid makes a mockery of the low-fare, no-frills philosophy.

The downside of the Ryanair price miracle is the legendary remoteness of some of their airports from your eventual destination. My flight from Prestwick to Hahn cost only £42 return. The onwards journey to Stuttgart took two hours on a bus and a further hour on a train.

It was long but interesting. I did get to see such places as Worms, where Martin Luther went on his famous Diet of Worms, and Heidelberg, where a nice lady asked conversationally if I was on my way to Stuttgart to the Porsche factory to pick up a new car. She could think of no other reason why anybodywould want to visit Stuttgart, a cold and unwelcoming city which she said was the Aberdeen of Germany. She was kidding about the Porsche - and wrong about Stuttgart, which, as 20,000 Celtic fans will testify, gave a more than warm welcome.

My journey by bus and train was by no means as eventful as that employed by James McQuillan. An Edinburgh Celtic fan eager to make a quick connection from Hahn to Stuttgart, he took up an offer from an airport tout of a direct link for only £30. Having paid the cash up front, James discovered that the mode of transport was not a luxury coach but a lorry. He and twenty other hapless passengers were ushered into the back of a wagon, refugee-style. In the dark interior, slipping from side to side, they made their progress along the autobahn. When the driver halted to allow the passengers the mandatory pee-stop, the fans' main concern was where they might obtain a beer. The driver pointed out that his cargo - apart from the Celtic fans - was a load of the finest German lager, and said they could help themselves. Suddenly, said James, the trip didn't seem so bad after all.

Germany's state-owned railway company has expressed an interest in taking over Scotrail, so my journeys from Glasgow Central to Prestwick and then from Heidelberg to Stuttgart gave me a chance to compare the two operators. At first there seemed to be similarities. In both cases the trains had passengers wearing green and white hooped jerseys and drinking cans of lager. But there were differences. Scottish trains tend to be down-at-heel and messy. The InterCity Express to Stuttgart was a five-star hotel on wheels. Bring on the Germans to transform ScotRail we say. But Donald, a fellow traveller, hopes they don't bring their catering with them. He purchased a sandwich of a rich, soggy rye bread which he described as 'a clootie dumpling with cheese'. The gherkin didn't tickle his tastebuds either.

The reputation of the Celtic travelling support took a bit of a dent after the recent unscheduled stop at Cardiff Airport by a charter plane heading to Glasgow from Vigo in Spain. But passengers who were on that plane tell me they are confident the dramatic landing will be proved to have been the result of an almost hysterical over-reaction. These days Celtic travellers are a relatively sedate bunch. A steward on the British Airways scheduled flight from London to Stuttgart with a load of Tims was heard to exclaim: 'They are such lovely people to deal with.'

Another testimonial to the cheery - if boisterous - nature of Celtic supporters came from Kristos, barman in La Concha, a Stuttgart pub. The sound of breaking glass was to be heard - but it was not vandalism on the part of the fans. It was Kristos himself, expressing his enjoyment of the supporters' renditions of various 1960s top 10 tunes by smashing the odd bottle or two. Kristos is Greek and is allowed to do this sort of thing.

There was one moment in La Concha when behaviour verged on the indecent. A middle-aged Glasgow man decided he would divest himself of all his clothing as he sang. This was bad enough - worse was that he took his teeth out too.

But shafts of wit helped the general ambiance. A Scottish fan making his way unsteadily with a tray of drinks was reprimanded by a young lady with the words: 'You're staggering.' 'You're not bad looking yourself', the man replied.

The obsession with football of these Scottish males blinded them to an opportunity to sample a great German tradition. The match was played on Thursday, which was the opening night of the Fasching Carnival, Germany's elongated version of Mardi Gras. Thursday is Ladies' Night, when the fraus and frauleins may do what they will with any passing male. Traditionally, the girls snip off the man's tie and recompense him with a kiss. But it is not unknown for matters to reach more advanced stages of amorous behaviour. Mind you, not many Celtic fans wear a tie with their football tops.

As is usual when fans travel to European games, many of them were there without an essential commodity - a match ticket. These supporters leave themselves at the mercy of touts, forgers and other ne'er-do-wells. But this week's prize for travelling ticketless but optimistically goes to the Glasgow couple who admitted they had cut out, 'these wee coupon things that look a bit like tickets', from the Sunday Mail.

They are not just about football these trips. I didn't know, for instance, that Stuttgarters have their own dialect, which makes their speech as impenetrable to other Germans as Glesca-speak is to inhabitants of the Home Counties.

The dialect is called Swabian, and offers rich possibilities for visiting football fans. The less well-behaved of the Celtic horde could be dismissed as Bagasch, or riff-raff. This behaviour would be due to Balle, or intoxication to a foolish level. The phrase Haufe gnug means too much, and sounds like the traditional reply, 'too much of everything' when a Scottish football fan is asked what he would like to drink. The Stuttgarters would have been confused by the mating call of the Scots football fan, 'Where's the burdz?' Burdz is Swabian for a hen without a tail. Much more helpful is the phrase Schlenker dei Deng, which translates as swing your willie. The worst insult that can be made in Swabian is the word Halbdaggl. This literally means 'half of a Dachshund' - presumably the back end.

They are a complex people, as can be deduced from their word 'Diaschbora' - 'The desperate mental condition of any Swabian who has to live apart from his tribe.' A final piece of learning from Swabian culture. An itinerant vendor traversed the slopes of the Stuttgart football stadium selling Gluhwein. The hot, spicy punch was in a tank strapped to his back and was dispensed into plastic cups via a hose. This could definitely catch on as an alternative to Bovril on a cold day at Celtic Park.UNGLE

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