We're all Scottish and we're all rugby fans now, so yah boo sucks to English soccer. We've suddenly discovered grannies from Glasgow, and actually, we always preferred those nice handsome middle-class boys who don't argue back with the ref to those nasty runts and yobs who get a million a week for trying to kick a silly round ball about.
Both my grannies did come from Glasgow - well, one lived in Cambuslang and the other in Motherwell - and I am Scottish-born, oh yes, and never deserted them in their hour of need, OK years of need, make that decades.
My hero is now James McFadden. I just love his skinny-ma-link frame, pasty face, deprived-looking eyes, a throwback to all those jinky, weedy wingers Scotland used to produce who captivated my childhood. I like Faddy's utter confidence, on his own up front, with three thugs around him, yet always willing to take them all on, take the piss, and go for goal. I also like Scott Brown for the opposite reasons, for his brute determination rather than cocky skill. I smile at his shaven Neanderthal head and his Vinnie Jones scary glare.
England got the soft draw, an easy Euro group, yet have played rubbish - those three goals against Estonia were all jammy - while Scotland's task has been much harder, so they have done brilliantly to lead their group for so long. Alas, Scotland might not get what they deserve, while England will probably sneak through, boring us all.
And then the rugby has been so exciting, so unexpected, and we all now wait for the big questions to be answered - has Jonny Wilkinson got a fake tan or not? Second, is he prettier than the Springboks' Percy Montgomery? The England rugger team may not have many world-class stars - the way our England soccer team is supposed to, ha ha - but they're honest and hard-working and play as a team to their strength, which happens to be physical strength.
Sport is like politics. We go off people and teams so quickly. It was kissy-kissy Tony Blair, boo to dreary Brown; then hello lovely Gordon, till it turned to let's give all Brownites a good kicking.
In the case of England, I've honestly never been on them, not for 40 years. Apart from that one game, the 5-1 defeat of Germany in Munich in 2001, all they've caused is misery and irritation, fury and anger, mixed with long periods of boredom, plus now and again the odd, fleeting moment of stupid, mad, implausible hope, which was always quickly dashed.
This revival of Scottish football - don't forget Rangers and Celtic are also doing well - and the rise of rugby, could actually do English football some good. No, I don't mean more chances to give the players a good kicking. But a chance to ignore them.
What should happen now is that all Prem and England games should be banned from Sky, BBC and ITV channels and relegated to Setanta Sports' Falklands service, giving the expats an alternative to doing awful things with sheep. Instead, all Scottish games will be live on all main channels. Every Gretna player will then become a household name. Long overdue.
No Premiership player will be allowed to write any more memoirs. Yes, some of us will lose by that. But it has to be done. They can only come back and impose upon our consciousness when they have done something, such as getting into a Euro or World Cup final. Until then, silence please.
Hunter Davies's "Bumper Book of Football" is published by Quercus (priced £19.99)
