Oh well the inevitable has happened and England are out of the World Cup. Still, there remains oodles of fun and football to feast on.

Speaking of chowing down, did you see the Luis Suarez alleged biting incident – when he appeared to sink his choppers into Giorgio Chiellini’s shoulder during Uruquay’s match against Italy on Tuesday? It’s the third time the Uruquayan Liverpool striker has been accused of biting an opponent. What’s going on there then?!

As a mum I do actually recognize the problem: this is what one of mine did as a toddler.

The fix is simple: reward chart. Suarez’s mum must ban him from wearing the snazzy dayglo Nike footie boots like the other boys in da World Cup, and instead make him wear Dunlop Green Flash. Like a wuss. When he’s earned enough star stickers (and NO black dots), he may upgrade his booties. Simples.

Clearly Ma Suarez (who raised seven boys by herself, so respect and sympathy) – didn’t give young Luis enough time on the naughty step – probably no room for all those mischievous boys’ bums.

So let’s get down to the nitty-gritty: who’s winning your support? No! Not team-wise…. But in the all-important battle of the haircuts. Our top two rated ’dos currently stand at Neymar, aka the Hoobinator, with his cutesy highlighted fluff, and Ronaldo, aka Zorro – loving the well swag shaven zigzag on the side of his mohican-alike central hair mass. Double bad boy.

We will miss England, obviously: the passion of rooting for our team, the perfect excuse for mid-week boozing, making Rooney jokes... And our brains will miss the endless Stephen Hawking-worthy conundrums: calculating how many goals England must score to possibly, by the most slenderest of chances, depending on weather conditions/ alignment of the stars, scrape through. All that brain-er-cise was helping us fight mental decay.

But before we become completely stupid, we must pick a new team. I must say I do ‘fancy’ Brazil (in both senses – bit pervy I know, but it’s part of the fun)... but I’m also drawn to the cocky Dutch. Winger Arjen Robben, while balding and not a looker, is so masterful and haughty, I think of him as a Mr Darcy from Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice type – the new Colin Firth, if you will.

He’s ruffled my petticoats anyway.