Norway fans might have become famous at the 2026 World Cup for their Viking row. But unlike their ancestors, the beating of a drum and Scandinavian shouts are thankfully not followed by wild raids on unsuspecting local residents.

But I wanted to see whether the Norwegian good humour would still be intact when faced with an England fan parading the World Cup trophy ahead of the crunch quarter-final between the two sides.

Would that famous Scandinavian politeness remain, or would it stir the ancient Viking spirit that made them so feared on the British Isles many centuries ago?

For all the talk of 30,000 English fans taking over Miami ahead of the World Cup quarter-final, the Ocean View strip of bars and restaurants where football fans have been gathering ahead of the games was a sea of red.

Norway might only have a population marginally bigger than Scotland, but, just like the Tartan Army, starved of a major tournament for decades, they travelled en masse to the USA.

In fact, the crowds performing the Viking row were so big they had to be dispersed by local police in dune buggies twice.

The question I had was what the Norwegian crowd would think of a lone Englishman carrying the World Cup on the shoulders of a mate, Bobby Moore-style.

It’s fair to say the Norwegian fans were pretty well-oiled by the time we entered the belly of the beast.

As we walked towards the largest group, we saw a security guard ejecting a Norway fan in an Erling Haaland shirt, who had been taunting a group of Englishmen by singing, “England’s going home.” Further down the strip, a swaying supporter in a retro '90s jersey was making rude gestures at a dancing robot brought to the beach by a foreign TV crew.

So, I pulled on my Three Lions jersey and put it to the test, making our way through a sidewalk filled with Norwegians on the shoulders of a brave fellow fan.

It got off to a somewhat shaky start because, after being raised in the air, we nearly crashed into an umbrella. But, having steadied ourselves, we moved into the crowd and lifted the trophy.

The Norwegians reacted with laughter, boos, and a surprisingly large amount of swearing—both audibly and visually. Soon we were completely surrounded by Scandinavians roaring their favourite anti-England chant, “England’s going home,” to the tune of Three Lions (Football’s Coming Home).

I tried my best to sing the correct version back at them, and for a good few minutes, we were locked in this strange sing-along. Both of us belting out the same tune with nearly, but crucially not, identical lyrics.

The scene soon captured the attention of several TV crews who’d been filming the Norway fans, and, bizarrely, a reporter from a Spanish-speaking network attempted to do an interview with me as I was in the middle of the crowd.

I couldn’t hear a word he was saying over the noise, and so when he thrust his blue mic in my face, I hoped another rendition of Football’s Coming Home would be the soundbite he needed.

As I looked across, I could see that, inexplicably, the robot had also been brought into the crowd of Norwegians and was struggling to move between two hefty fans in Viking hats.

By this point, the DJ at the bar we were walking past had caught wind of our stunt and was blasting Football’s Coming Home from his speakers.

‘Great,’ I thought, ‘now I don’t need to compete with all these Norwegian fans because they're playing my version.’

But the DJ was cannier than that. As the song reached a crescendo, he cut the music and had the crowd of red-shirted fans mock me with their “England’s Going Home” song.

After that, there was a bit of a shift in the mood. An incredibly drunk Norwegian walked up to the brave fan carrying me through the crowd and told him, “You need to leave right now.” My friend’s response of “We’re good” angered him, and he started shoving my mate in the chest.

At the same point, another very inebriated blonde man started trying to grab the World Cup trophy off me and pull my arms.

It was time to make an exit, so we made our way out of the crowd to a nearby palm tree to lean on as I dropped down to the ground.

What I didn’t realise was that we’d been followed out by a Norway fan intent on stealing the World Cup trophy.

As my feet touched the floor, he grabbed it, and I had to wrestle it back off him as he gave what I can only assume was a Viking war cry.

Fortunately, I managed to pull the trophy free, and we left hastily.

The lesson of the story is that, while the vast majority of the Norwegian fans are Vikings in jest only, there are still a couple for whom the feistiness of their ancestors bubbles to the surface after one too many beers.