And, like most addicts, I became hooked by a cheap first hit and since then have sapped my bank account, time, and energy chasing infrequent highs followed by some pretty numbing lows.

Particular highlights include a 4-1 stuffing of Queen's Park Rangers in 2001, after which I was convinced we'd win League Two (Posh didn't win any of the following 10 games), phoning home from Chicago airport in the same year to find we'd stuffed Cambridge by the same scoreline, and what Barry Fry calls a 'nort-nort' draw at The New Den when Millwall were about 40,000 points clear at the top of the league, and rhyming slang referee Phil Prosser sent off both Jason Lee and Andy Clarke.

Games I'd rather forget include a 5-0 disaster at Tranmere on a Friday night and Sean St Ledger's finest moment gifting an away win to Northampton a year or two ago.

Until recently most of my Posh supporting has been from afar, as I spent five years boarding at Eton (where I played football against Prince William, the swine put a free-kick into my top corner when I was in goal), studied in Durham, and worked in Manchester.

I moved to central London a year ago but I've well and truly jumped on Darragh's bandwagon and have bought my first season ticket, and I'm also on the board of The Posh Trust, whom I'd encourage every Posh fan to join.

Pre-match: Instead of my usual Saturday morning train up from London, I ventured up on Friday evening in order to catch up with friends and dance like David Brent, and hence my Saturday started with a sore head, selective amnesia, and some bruises I'm certain I didn't have 24 hours previously.

Before the game I usually go to Ebeneezer's, just off Oundle Road, which is the clubhouse of independant supporters' group PISA 2000, for whom I serve on the committee. It's a great pre-match bar, which serves cheap beer, shows Premiership football, and best of all is frequented by loads of fans 'talking Posh', which until this season I always thought was just a metaphor for moaning.

Half-time report: Football is certainly an easier game when the opposition's keeper is sent off in the first minute. It's a rule I'd very much like FIFA to introduce. Craig Mackail-Smith and Aaron Mclean are both simply electrifying and at 4-0 at half-time I was beginning to wonder whether it really was all happening.

BEST SONG: Nothing particularly stands out, although the London Road End is hardly noted for it's Wildean repartee. I think most of the mickey taking was done by George Boyd rather than the fans.

Full-time report: Almost exactly as the first half. A rampant Posh carried on tearing Brentford apart, and by the time the rout was finished, the gents from Middlesex were almost in tears as we lorded it over them. Had their goalkeeper not produced three good saves, nor a perfectly legitimate eighth goal been ruled out, Posh could've racked up a cricket score.

Post-match: I bought a group of Brentford fans a round of drinks on the train back, although they were so demoralised I doubt even an evening in a hotel room with all five members of Girls Aloud would've brought a smile to their faces.

I got back to Pimlico around 7pm where I finished off the day (and my stomach) knocking up a curry before switching on Match of the Day where I saw another team in blue whack seven past some hapless opponents in red and white stripes. What a coincidence.

What would you have been doing if you hadn't been to the game? If I hadn't have been at the game, I'd have most likely been doing a little studying for my postgraduate degree followed by a decent dinner and an evening at the opera. Or I'd have gone to Romford dog track.

Overall Matchday RATING 9

Want to be our next featured fan? Just email:
alan.swann@peterboroughtoday.co.uk