this is the sport in this country smoking

Pristina, Kosovo: "This is the sport in this country, smoking," says our Nigerian host from the UN Human Settlements Program.

And sure enough, everyone is smoking, in their cars, in bars, on the street, even at petrol stations. Cigarettes are about 1.5euro a pack of twenty, so in a country where other entertainment is hard to come by, smoking represents excellent value.

"Nine out of 10 people smoke. When you walk around they offer you cigarettes, they are offended if you do not smoke."

Briggs wants to fit in. He buys a pack quickly and smokes steadily throughout the evening. He is torn, though. He wants to smoke in the Mexican restaurant, but feels hidebound by the conditioning of the draconian rules in the UK.

"You are thinking this is a civilised country," says our guide, with a laugh.

Our French friend from one of the many international agencies reassures him that there is no need to ask. People like to see a man smoking.

Touring a couple of bars, we meet UN and EU workers from Sweden, Lithuania, Portugal, the Netherlands, France and Germany. But they are not really nationals. They are internationals. They stay in their elite bubble here in the Balkans, transferring from one agency to the next. There is a suggestion they do not pay much tax, and the expenses are very good. The Daily Express would not be pleased.

The Italian we meet is everything you would want in an international worker. Beige suite, with impeccably pressed trousers, a perfectly trimmed beard and a relaxed and charming demeanour. He has just had an excellent meal.

Our host tells him we are off to Prizren.

"And have you told your friends in Prizren they shoot in the street?"

"Yes, but they shoot in the air and so we do not need flak jackets. We just need the helmets for when the bullets come down."

The trials of managing a junior football team

Mobile phone conversation overheard on the No. 2 bus:

"Yeah, I've started managing a team, you know. I came in and I started looking at the attendance charts and there are kids who are showing up to training every week and not getting a game. There are kids showing up on time, doing everything right, and they're not getting their chance.

Some of them think, just because they are good players, you know, that they don't need to train, that they can show up for matches 10 minutes before kick-off. These kids need to learn some respect. You know what I mean, these kids need to be taught a lesson.

So I decided to shake things up a bit. First match, I had some of the good players on the bench and gave those fringe players a chance.

But, you know what, I never realised the gulf in class! We started losing the match, but with a 10 minutes to go I made some changes. We ended up scoring a last minute equaliser. I was relieved!

Stalin enters London

Strolling back to work from my lunch on Friday, I saw a march coming up High Holborn and turn into Kingsway. I only saw the back end of it – a few people carrying banners, some from unions, some from left-wing organisations. There were some people, perhaps rented, tapping cowbells.

I walked over to the group at the end of the protest, and asked a girl dressed in black what it was all about. It was the May Day protest, she said, the day when workers protest. She was a social worker. Perhaps she was protesting about all the rubbish parents out there.

Buying a banana from the fruit-seller on High Holborn, I asked him what he thought of this rag-tag rabble.

“Some of them were carrying a picture of Stalin around. He killed 30 million people – what are they parading his f*cking picture for?”

I had to admit that the fruit-man, who has the look of a bloke who needs a defibrillator with him when reading his newspaper, had a point. It is hard to understand a person who takes Stalin as their political hero. Lenin, maybe, who had the good sense to die before the Communists really got warmed up with their purging sensibility, but not Stalin.

I tried to smooth things over by saying that there is no accounting for taste and that personally my hero was Bryan Robson, but it didn’t seem to help.