THE GERMANS have a fantastic way of joining up existing words in a crazy linguistic lego that brings complex and often contradictory concepts togther in one uncomfortable 20 syllable saliva drenched whole.
So they must have compound word that sums up that mixture of self-righteous public tut-tut-tut condemnation and sudden explosion of guilty pride in seeing a loved one inflict harm on someone who, while possibly legally blameless this time, really deserves it.
Ah yes, "HowayMadDogPogasondeckthedirtyBoltongetz."
There is no doubt that all responsible football fans with the good of the game at heart and a keen respect for the laws and the Corinthian spirit should shake our heads in despair at the sight of wild-eyed, blood spattered avengers trying to throttle the opposition in an insane moment of vigilante blood-lust.
But equally, there is no doubt it is a highly partizan game with the ability to inflame passion and dissolve legal and social niceties.
Which is how I found myself urging Emmanuel Pogatetz to "chin" Kevin Davies. It no doubt alarmed my seven year old son to see a usually calm if cynical Dad explode in anger, foaming at the mouth and gesticulating manically at the referee and Fat Sam.
Not that I have anything against Davies. As far as non-goal getting flop frontmen failing to justify their pricetag go, he is relatively harmless in almost every sense of the word.
But he plays for Bolton, a team that personify cynicism. And with niggly Nicky Hunt out injured and spit shame striker and Riverside fans' favourite Diouf hiding in the dugout and working his way through his collection of legal summonses, the Pogo/Davies clash became a momentary cypher for the battle between good and evil.
Whatever the motivation of the swinging elbow - and only Davies will ever know if it was deliberate - Pogo was on the ground in a heap with blood gushing from his eye. It was head wound in anyone's book and the ref should have stopped it.
Failing that, Davies should have read the signs - and heard the anxiety of the crowd - and put the ball out to allow treatment for a fellow pro. But he didn't (maybe Sam would impose a fine as he does for long range shots and passes across the box) and Pogo went mental. And I for one don't blame him.
The Austrian is a loose cannon to put it politely. This is a player who arrived at the club with a six month worldwide ban after a tackle that fractured his Russian opponent's leg so badly they found pieces of bone in Vladivostock and St Petersburg. A player who has picked up the nick name 'Mad Dog' and 13 bookings in 37 games since arriving.
Pogo spends much of the game bounding around like a big, soft daft dog that isn't malacious but doesn't know it's own strength and you suspect is dim enough to curl up and start chewing it's own leg.
But in almost every game the red mist descends briefly and he becomes a red card waiting to happen. Sometimes I watch him through my fingers. Sometimes I watch from behind the settee like he is a cardboard baddie in far fetched episode of Doctor Who.
At times he has glazed over and threatened to melt down and run amok, beating the referee and fourth official over the head with the bloody stump of the opposition striker's right leg.
Against Sunderland he took a little dig from Liam Lawrence and turned beserker. Steam was coming out if his ears and his eyes were locked on target and he set off after the Mackem midfielder and only the swift action of Mark Schwarzer saved him.
The alert keeper raced across the box grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him round and slapped him squarely across the chops to bring him to his senses like an hysterical leading lady in a fifties B-Movie.
Gareth Southgate was moving in too. For a second I feared it would be a repeat of the scene from Airplane where the entire team queued up to slap him as well.
So we all know that Pogo has the potential to lose his rag, like a later day Ian Baird. And most will know that it is a bad thing and fear that it can shatter discipline and cost games too.
But the guy had just had his head smashed open by a fellow professional who not only showed no concern or remorse, but who played on with the crowd whistling indignantly.
So yes, Pogo's fury was 'unprofessional', undignified and undiscipined. But I think would have done the same.
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