I took 'Harry Kane' into a crowd of Scotland fans at World Cup – the response was shocking

It’s undisputed. Scotland fans have the best reputation in football.

But I wondered.

Under the blazing Boston heat, would the crowds heading to the first World Cup game in nearly three decades maintain their legendary good cheer if England’s captain, Harry Kane, suddenly appeared amongst them?

Now, I should say that as an Englishman, I’ve always enjoyed the banter between the two nations and was confident it would be banter rather than bruises I’d be left with if I took a life-size cutout of the Three Lions star into the crowd.

When I walked through the thousands of Scotland fans at the European Championships in Germany, the reactions were great fun, witty chants, hugs and good-natured booing.

Equally, when I took to the streets of Edinburgh wearing a Three Lions jersey, the response from the Tartan Army was just as fun.

However, taking a cardboard cutout of Harry Kane into a pub filled with Scotland fans in Boston, partying ahead of their World Cup opener against Haiti, might have been pushing my luck.

Maybe this would be the time I came unstuck? Under the 31-degree New England heat, would the legendary Scottish good nature transform into sheer Braveheart-level rage?

Well, once the lifesize replica of the England captain had been ordered at a local Boston print shop, there was no backing out. I had to find out for myself.

There was an early warning for what to expect as I prepared to venture into the crowd of Scotland fans lining the bars beside the FIFA World Cup fan park. A group of Brazil fans started winding up fans at The Dubliner bar and serenaded them with chants of, “Who the fing hell are you?” and “wker, w***ker.”

Walking down the steps toward them, a local Bostonian’s jaw dropped. “Oh no,” he said, looking at me. “Harry Kane. What the hell?”

The same crowd that had been chanting at the Brazil fans then spotted me, and I got a chorus of boos.

“I’ve brought Harry,” I told them. “Can he join the party?”

I guess the answer was no, because the crowd then decided to shout “f*** off,” followed by, “Can you hear the England sing? No, no.”

To say I was outnumbered was a major understatement. If there were any Englishmen in attendance, they were sitting on their hands and not making themselves known.

So, standing alone, I gave it my best. “EN-GER-LAND, EN-GER-LAND,” I cried.

As I was shouting, a fan snuck up behind me and swapped my bucket hat for one with the Scotland flag on it.

It got a massive cheer and was done so artfully that I didn’t even notice.

When he asked me, “Do you want to keep it?” I realised I’d been pranked.

It was a fun start, so I ventured further and rounded the corner into a sea of Scotland shirts.

Lots of those I passed just looked shocked and bemused.

Given lots of the fans have been partying for three days solid, I think they could be forgiven for wondering whether the man walking through the kilt-wearing Scots in a white England jersey was actually some kind of alcohol-induced hallucination.

I got a few dirty looks, but nothing nasty, and there were plenty of laughs.

One of those who found it especially hilarious was the bouncer of The Dubliner pub.

So I asked him, “Can I go in?”

“Sure,” he replied, “but I’m not sure how they’ll react.”

I decided to take the plunge and walk through the barrier. The reaction was immediate. Everyone sitting outside began booing and rowdily singing, “Harry Kane eats spaghetti with his hands.”

An older Scotsman wearing a kilt and a USA shirt called me over. “Here,” he told me, “I’ll take a picture with you.”

I should have known it was a trap.

As I posed with him and Harry, he lifted up his kilt and was not wearing underwear. There were roars of laughter, and he gave a cheeky smile to his mates’ cameras.

I turned to move away, and a young lad sitting down in a blue Scotland home shirt pulled a lighter out of his pocket.

“Can I set fire to him?” he asked.

“That’s not very nice,” I replied. “How would you like it if I set fire to Lawrence Shankland?”

“But Harry Kane is rubbish,” he said with a shrug of the shoulders.

To avoid any more indecent exposure or arson, I headed inside the bar.

I walked through the doors to a chorus of boos and plenty of swearing. But equally, there were plenty of laughs and fans asking to take selfies with the England captain and me.

Suddenly, as I rounded the bar, a man with bagpipes appeared next to me and, with perfect timing, began playing the tune of “Can You Hear the England Sing? No, no.”

I did my best to do some Highland dancing to the tune. But since I didn’t know the traditional moves and was carrying Harry, this was not very successful.

The piper finished his tune, and we hugged.

‘This is all going so well,’ I was thinking to myself, as I felt a splash of liquid on my face.

Unsure what I’d just been doused in and praying it wasn’t something bodily, I turned.

Fortunately, I saw it was just beer being flicked in my direction by a young fan, who, perhaps conscious of the World Cup prices, wasn’t going to waste the precious liquid by throwing it all over an Englishman.

As I praised him for his frugality, the crowd started chanting, “Who’s the w***ker in the white?”

I wasn’t sure if they were singing it to Harry. So when the song subsided, I shouted: “He’s the one who’s gonna win the World Cup!”

This reply was greeted with laughter.

But, as I edged toward the exit, a few of the lads started trying to lay hands on my boy Harry.

One was trying to punch Harry’s head off; another grabbed his arm and tried to rip it.

Desperately swerving the blows and defending our captain, I backed up toward the door.

“He’s going to cry in a minute,” they jeered.

It was all good fun. But not wanting to catch a stray left hook meant for Harry or have the life-size replica of the Bayern Munich star decapitated, I decided to make an exit.

The adventure was a little feistier than I thought it would be. But, overall, it was just good fun. We ended with both Harry Kane’s and the Scotland fans’ reputations firmly intact.