Was it John Major who said that if you've got your back to the wall then the best thing to do is turn round and march smartly forward?

I used to be an expert on walls but it's now so long since we had our backs to one that I'm no longer certain where they are any more.

And, Albion-wise, the sun just keeps wearing its hat.

August is ending and so far nothing awful's happened. Very worrying, in the way that it is very worrying to be driving down a long road towards a traffic light that's green.

Most Augusts throw up a potential winner of the ongoing competition to find the Most Unlikely Team Ever To Sit At The Pinnacle Of English Football and while Carlisle will probably win the prize eventually, there will be a certain amount of jostling from Norwich, Leicester and, this year's entry, Bolton.

No way could Brighton be regarded as contenders for the divisional award but flying so high is causing me oxygen deprivation.

It cannot last for ever and, who knows, the Albion may well choose the brief interlude between me writing these words and you reading them to bring their amazing start to a stop.

However, current form suggests a dart to the top is more likely.

If that happens on Friday my Saturday will be so exceptionally sweet that nothing, not even a twilight putsch in Munich, will stop my expression from defaulting to a knowing smirk of the kind that Muttley made famous.

It is a shame that my powers of organisation didn't extend to buying a ticket for Northampton because it was there I saw my first Albion away match, when the Cobblers played in the corner of a cricket field and Tony Towner was, well, tiny.

The away supporters were squashed on to a little terrace ambitiously called Spion Kop and the main stand looked like an extended potting shed.

Opposite this, along the whole length of the pitch, was nothing at all, except a rope to keep spectators off the pitch. We won of course. Long before I started school, my education had begun.

Compared to Friday's top v bottom clash most of the country - all right, most of the county - will feel that the England game is a bit of a comedown but I am looking forward to it.

Although it will give people who aren't really football supporters the chance to pretend they are, there's a simple test to spot these arrivistes. Real football supporters never really hate opposing sides.

Pretend football supporters do. Try out my theory in the pub on Saturday evening. The only people slagging off the Germans will be come-lately carpet-bagging ersatz Manchester United supporters.

Meanwhile, three cheers to the BBC for their role in the build-up. All week long Auntie has been running the most elegant of campaigns to promote its coverage.

Understated and stylish, it reminds us of what we have been missing since ITV introduced its tabloid TV techniques to Saturday night football.

In fact, it is almost as cool as an Albion shirt.