So, tragically, J-Lo DID end up performing the ‘official’ World Cup song at last night’s opening ceremony after all.

She had said she wouldn’t as there were production issues… Sorry luv, but there were STILL production issues – as in you produced a terrible song.

Seriously, did you witness the horror? It featured white rapper Pitbull larging it in a shiny disco suit (collar popped up), looking like a Costa Del Sol gangster and surrounded by a bevy of arse-wiggling Latino ladies. J.Lo and Brazil’s version of J.Lo supplied the back-up warbling.

I heard they wouldn’t play the song in Malaga on grounds of taste.

Yes, that bad. It’s called We Are One… should have been We Are One Song Short Of A Good Tune.

Look chaps, a good football song should be a boozed up, shouty and cocky affair – it’s what we footie fans understand.

In my book you can’t beat Fat Les’s Vindaloo (1998) – a shambolic, no-brainer singalong that makes you proud to be British – or New Order’s World In Motion from Italia 90 (actually this was quite indie cool, and falls short of the criteria I’ve just laid down).

Anyhoo, World take note, if you want a good song, just ask Eng-er-land, and we’ll lend you cockney charmer Dizzee Rascal, or even ‘national treasure’ Gary Barlow… actually you can keep him.

Did you hear his WC effort (‘starring’ Gary Lineker and Michael Owen)?! Even the FA, not known for their taste or decisiveness, give it the boot. Yes, that bad.

Men in suits

Mr Pratbull (see previous) has put me off men in suits.

Sadly, during the World Cup, the whole shebang is run by besuited old crusties from FIFA.

They even make themselves the prize-givers, I mean, come on, have you seen their leader Sepp Blatter? He sounds like an accident on pancake day and he looks like one too. Seriously unglam.

So my suggestion is, instead of the old blokes dolling out the cup and medals at the final, let’s bring in a celeb or two (back away, J.Lo, you’ve done your ‘bit’) or, better yet, make last tournament’s winners do it – like they do at beauty pageants. Can you imagine Spain (2010’s victors) looking daggers behind their toothsome grins as they are forced to hand over the Jules Rimet trophy?

We definitely need to sexy up the tournament with a touch more soap operatics.

And to add family appeal, as well as the medals, they could give out puppies to the winners and kittens to the runners up? (Sorry cat lovers but dogs are clearly the bigger prize.) Just think how cute the photos would be?