Not for the sport, mind you. There are many things I’d rather do than spend two hours watching men kicking a ball. As a spectacle it bores me, and I don’t have the depth of feeling to participate in the tribal side of supporting.

I love the World Cup because just after two o’clock this afternoon, at what is usually one of the busiest times of the week, everyone else was watching the England game, leaving Tesco empty for me and a couple of dozen other refuseniks to do our shopping in relative calm.