I’VE only been in Austria for a week but I have already found a nemesis.

For the last seven days, the bearded man in the main station information point has been my ‘go to guy’ for, well, information.

Now I don’t know much about HR, or what qualifications you need to get his job, but I would assume a rudimentary knowledge of local geography, a pleasant disposition and a decent grip of a universal language like English would be a decent start.

I could have caught him on a bad week. Perhaps he’s had his fill of dithering English tourists asking pointless questions in broken German?

But in my experience over the last seven days he has been as useful as a schokolade brandwache* and speaking to a few Wanderers fans out here, I’m not the only one who thinks it.

In the last week he has misdirected me, given me a bad steer on buses and trains AND told me I could walk to the Arnold Schwarzenegger museum, when a brief glance at Google Maps told me I’d need to be some type of Olympic triathlete to get there by foot.

Yesterday marked my last full day in Austria and I had already mapped out the route to the Franz Fekete Stadion, which was a simple train journey away.

But I wasn’t letting my old mate get away without a parting shot. Oh no.

I knew what train I’d need to catch to Kapfenberg. I even knew what platform. But I wanted him to tell me.

I entered his little office, and as if to emphasise how much I’d been in there this week, he said: “Oh, hello again.”

“Hello,” I said, teeing up a scenario I’d been playing in my head for most of the week. “What train goes to Kapfenberg?”

The bearded man typed on his little keyboard: “Vienna, at 1.25pm.”

“Vienna?” I said. “This means nothing to me.”

I looked round for feedback on my witty bon-mot, a woman waiting behind me just looked through me. The bearded man smiled the weary smile of a man who has heard the Vienna line before.

I turned to walk out of his office, immediately regretting not trying out a “Lion of Vienna” joke, which might just have caught him by surprise.

“Auf weidersehen pet,” said the bearded man, hitting a winning forehand as I walked out of the door; foiled again.

Getting on the train I tweeted my Vienna joke, which hit with most Wanderers fans over 30. Man I miss England... I’m funnier there.

*Chocolate fireguard. See, my German is getting better.