Holding dual Australian and UK citizenship is only problematic when both countries reach the final rounds of a major sporting competition. When I started writing this piece the Matildas and the Lionesses were about to play their heart-breaking semi-final, while the Wallabies and England were (and still are) vying for the title of Rankest Outsider in the Rugby World Cup. The fact that I happened to be in the UK at the time, surrounded by friends still mourning the Ashes, made it a perfect storm of national identity crisis.

I’m sure Eddie Jones will get the best possible performance out of the squad he’s taken to France, but he can have no influence over what Socceroos coach Graham Arnold has called the Matilda’s 12th player: the crowd. One of the more depressing aspects of the Wallabies’ loss to Los Pumas in July was that despite accounting for less than 20 per cent of the gate at Western Sydney Stadium, Argentina fans generated 90 per cent of the noise – much of it a medley of songs which started before kick-off and continued long after the final whistle. To the Australian players it must have felt as if some kink in the space-time continuum had caused their changing room tunnel to disgorge them onto a pitch in Buenos Aires. The Aussies I was sitting with agreed that it’s not that Wallaby supporters lack passion, but that we lack songs to express that passion. ‘Waltzing Matilda’ might once have served, but in today’s more diverse and inclusive Australia even the few who still know the words to it wouldn’t feel comfortable singing them unless they were watching players of a different gender kicking a ball of a different shape. In the absence of anything better, Australians in France will have to default to one of our non-sport-specific utility chants – but perhaps with some contemporary Wallaby spin, as in: ‘Come on, Eddie, come on, come on!’ or ‘Eddie, Eddie, Eddie – Jones! Jones! Jones!’

Noisy audiences have their places, but the Royal Albert Hall – just down the road from where I’m staying – is not one of them. An American tourist learnt this yesterday when he was assaulted by another punter after the former’s popcorn eating had compromised the latter’s enjoyment of Dialogues des Carmélites. I have some sympathy with the Yank’s complaint that since he bought the popcorn in the venue he should have been allowed to consume it there unmolested. I have more sympathy with the Pom who spent a week’s wages on his ticket. While most theatres and cinemas ask us to switch our phones off during the feature presentation, they must know that this only does half the job. The closest I have ever come to killing someone with my bare hands was when a woman sitting next to me at the Cremorne Orpheum recently rendered the first 20 minutes of Oppenheimer inaudible with a packet of Cheezels. Any mayoral candidate in the 2027 local elections who promises to outlaw the sale of crackly wrapper snacks and confectionery in Lower North Shore cinemas can be sure of my vote.

An even better way to enhance your electability in local elections is to claim to support the local footy team, since this locates you socio-economically as well geographically. But make sure you can walk the walk. Being a lifelong Cronulla Sharks fan certainly helped to make Cook a safe seat for Scott Morrison, but it was Tony Blair’s claim to have been a lifelong Newcastle United fan which got him rechristened Tony B. Liar by a newspaper which pointed out that the stadium he’d said he remembered sitting in as a child didn’t install seats until he was 32. A safer way to gain the trust of voters is to refer to them the way they refer to themselves. But only as long as your terminology has currency. You will no longer endear yourself to Parramatta or Blacktown commuters by calling them ‘Westies’, for example, since for some time now they have preferred the name ‘Squinters’ because they spend so much of their lives driving into the rising or setting sun. But it’s still okay to call people who live in the Shire ‘Hobbits’, and to call people who live in Sydney’s most expensive real estate ‘Point Paupers’. And as readers of this column you are the very first Australians to know that from now on the thousands of people who commute into the CBD from Manly each day would prefer to be referred to as ‘Fastafarians’. Why? Because they use the Faster Ferry.