BY bizarre chance, the second half of England’s game against Algeria on Friday night coincided almost exactly with a 45-minute flight I took from Leeds/Bradford Airport to Southampton after a business trip to York.

As I stepped off the plane, a work colleague texted just one word. ‘Pants.’

By all accounts, there was more entertainment value in looking at Manchester, Birmingham and the rolling fields of Oxfordshire from a cruising altitude of 19,000 feet, than watching our useless national team failing to score against one of the tournaments also rans.

Surely none of the many fans who have forked out thousands to go to South Africa could have possibly done so with any serious expectation of seeing England’s players actually perform?

At least they have the consolation that they’re visiting one of the most beautiful and fascinating countries on earth.

That should put it all into perspective.

And here’s something else to bring a sense of proportion. This coming Saturday is Veterans Day and yesterday hundreds of people turned out in Swanage and Christchurch to say thank you for the sacrifices and efforts of Britain’s service personnel, past and present. Amid the usual frenzy about those who get paid £120,000 a week just to kick a football for 90 minutes, it’s a good opportunity to remember who the real heroes are.