WHAT is it about the World Cup that changes normally mild-mannered people into ranting, chanting football fanatics. Eric Leaver joined the masses to watch the England v Nigeria game in an attempt to find out...

INCIDENTAL to events in Osaka yesterday was the unleashing of the opportunity for an extremely rare anthropological study -- of how folk behave when the pubs are open at seven o'clock in the morning.

After all, such an occasion has seldom arisen since old Lloyd George responded to the shortage of shells on the Western Front in World War One by docking opening hours to stop the munitions workers getting bombed out of their minds first thing in the morning.

Dutifully, I got up early and took myself off to a town-centre bar in Blackburn to observe developments.

Truly scientific research, of course, requires a preliminary listing of the conditions and apparatus necessary for the phenomenon to occur.

You need the occurrence of a World Cup competition in Japan, with England having the prospect of reaching the last 16 if they draw with Nigeria; the televising of the event at a ridiculously early hour, a pub with three large screen tellies and numerous lager spigots, bacon butties, six bar staff, four bouncers, two uniformed police officers and 100 young men. Oh, yes, and a sprinkling of girls of the same age.

Never have I been confronted by such a melange before. Previously, my experience of this kind of thing was limited to being among half a dozen yobs availed of breakfast-time booze in an airport bar -- and observing that the behaviour that was instantly triggered was oafishness.

Curiously, this was not the immediate reaction prompted by 7am pints at Pitchers. To begin with, things were muted and numbers restricted to about 25 people -- mostly in their 20s -- chatting quietly in the half-hour wait for the kick-off.

Soon, however, the crowd had grown to more than 100 -- all more or less observing a dress code that required an England football shirt of some sort, designer track suit bottoms and trainers. Variations this theme included the wearing of face paint, a baseball cap or England flag as a cloak or sarong.

An immediate conclusion in our study, answering the question of who the hell wants to sup chilled lager at seven o'clock in the morning, is that it is around 100 England football fans....not a few of whom admit to skiving off work.

What effect does this produce? It evidently all depends what the subjects of the study are exposed to on those big screen tellies. Give 'em a sterile, goalless draw in which England are matched by African outsiders and the prime responses are shouts of "Ooooh!" -- in the tenor of constipation sufferers in dire need of catharsis -- and the throwing up of arms in the air followed by clutching of the cranium; both reactions being elicited by repeated instances of disappointment.

There does however occur an increase in volume after 45 minutes -- in rough ratio to the (considerable) amount of strong lager that has been supped by then. And there are outbreaks of jabbed pointing at the ceiling in rhythm with shouts of "Come on England!" -- all in the belief that this will bring an improvement, which it doesn't.

The eventual reaction after 91 minutes is brief, but happy cheering at the realisation that 0-0 takes England to meet Denmark at Niigita next Saturday at a much more sensible hour for boozing.

But the most marked effect is the one known to behaviour analysts as schadenfreude -- pleasure in the misfortune of others.

This is not always bound to happen -- but is evinced to the full if hated Argentina fail to reach the last 16, as transpires. Suddenly, 100 people break into a frenzy of giving V-signs at the big screens and singing: "You're going home."

Only half the Pitchers crowd stays for post-match analysis, which probably lasts until chucking out time.

The opportunity to experience this phenomenon may recur if England beat Denmark and reach the quarter finals at Shizuoka which kick off at 7.30 am on June 21.

Is it worth it?