AS A musician and poet accustomed to doing a substantial part of my work in mainland Europe, I’d like to congratulate Oliver Dowden on his much longed-for breakthrough agreement allowing us to tour there visa-free once more.

I don’t want to sound churlish in his moment of triumph but it behoves me to observe that it does, however, miss a few countries out.

Rather a lot, if truth be told. Basically, nearly everywhere, actually.

And that is not to denigrate the many cultural opportunities offered by Norway, Lichtenstein and Iceland. I’ve visited all three. I’ve performed a lot in the first, once in the second — albeit only for a few minutes — and would definitely have done a gig in the third if I had had more than two hours’ notice of my overnight stay.

Allow me to reminisce. I love Norway. I have toured there enough times to release an album — imaginatively titled Live in Norway — and am especially fond of Trondheim, where my wife Robina and I have always been very well looked after by our friends Torgeir Lund, her favourite host anywhere, and Niko.

Torgeir runs Crispin Glover Records, the independent label which released my CD, and Niko an independent craft-beer bar covered, and no, I’m not imagining this, in Brighton & Hove Albion memorabilia.

Norway does an IPA called Nogne 0 (Naked 0) which is simultaneously the loveliest and most expensive beer I have ever drunk. And I’ve never had to pay for it ‘cos it’s always been on my rider. You can see why I’m fond of the place now.

I have been to Lichtenstein, which is an achievement, because it is very small and difficult to find: a lot of people don’t know where it is at all. I do, although I have to confess I found it by accident. It nestles proudly at the top of, and in between, the enveloping folds of Switzerland and Austria.

I’d love to say it is cherished as a wonderful hidden jewel and a seat of unimaginable pleasure but it isn’t. It’s really, really dull. So dull, even Coldplay have never played there.

I was gigging in Austria and Switzerland with my band some years ago and we bumped into it. So we chugged in, parted the tumbleweed, somehow found a bar which reminded me of Eastbourne in the 1970s and, realising we were unlikely to ever be invited to rock the place, I did a short poem. Purely so I can now say, I have performed in Liechtenstein.

Thanks, Oliver.

Iceland is a fascinating country with a proud indie music history. I’ve performed in all the other Nordic countries many times and have always hoped for an invite.

I’ve never had one, though, and since I’m in the wonderfully privileged position of being able to combine holidays and gigs I had more or less abandoned the idea of going there.

Then we booked an Icelandair flight to the US via Reykjavik which arrived too late for the connecting flight, allowing us an overnight stay there at the airline’s expense.

We marvelled at the treelessness, the steam coming out of the ground, the linguistic connections to Old English and the fact that a bottle of Heineken and a glass of wine cost about 30 quid. And we’d love to go back.

But actually, if and when the pandemic is finally over, what I really want to do is play for my friends and supporters in cities I have visited for decades like Berlin, Hamburg, Hannover, Amsterdam, Brussels, Stockholm, Helsinki, Bern and Vienna.

That’s Vienna, not Vaduz. Where’s Vaduz? Guess.

Bollocks to Brexit.