Stag do of convenience

The British, in particular the English, have a reputation for sticking their noses in where it isn't always wanted. Arrogance, some call it. It's possibly why our tourists are the most hated in Europe.

There are a limited number of bean counters lamenting the absence of the 'Home Nations' from Euro 2008, and not just because of the old hooligan thing. Come to think of it, what does everybody else call the Home Nations? We can't impose upon others to refer to our home as home, can we? Arrogance, you see.

Anyway, in our peculiar way, it looks likely that the major footballing story of this weekend will occur away from Austria and Switzerland, and even away from any of the recognised Home Nations. All eyes will be on that corner of the Mediterranean that is forever England - Ibiza.

Wayne Rooney, albeit a little too late, has in a sense saved the football-loving British public. An event such as his wedding to Coleen McLoughlin unites the nation in a way only success in major tournaments can.

The lads can marvel at the drinking exploits of 'Wazza' and co, as well as confirm in their minds that Peter Crouch and Steven Gerrard are sound blokes who you'd invite on your stag do, while John 'JT' Terry and Frank 'Why Does Everyone Call Him Fat Frank If He's Not Fat' Lampard (I can't recall exactly which woman asked me this, in fact I'm pretty sure it has been more than one. Answer - because it's funny) are not invited because they're a pair of preening, whinging, bell-ends. Of course if you don't like Rooney you may feel the opposite is true. But who doesn't like Peter Crouch as a bloke, I mean really?

The chicks, on the other hand (as I'm making sweeping generalisations I may as well use sexist terms) will get a great kick out of a second major fashion event of the nascent summer. After Sex and the City: The One That Your Boyfriend Will Mercilessly Never Have To Sit Through, it's lovely little, down-to-earth Coleen's lovely glamorous pie-in-the-sky £10million magazine-sponsored wedding.

It's the biggest event since Gazza and Sheryl after Euro 96. But would you have swapped Euro 96, Officially The Greatest Summer Ever TM, for a few shots of Gascoigne and David Seaman in horrendously dated suits drinking champers while Chris Evans spins the tunes?

Of course not, and it's not going to stop us watching Germany or whoever play each other and probably spit at each other like Voeller and Rijkaard show us about the continental game:



It's just we don't want to forget, do we, that we still love the likes of Rooney even if we felt awfully let down by the whole qualification farrago. And I will make you a fair bet that the incredibly sad plight of Paul Gascoigne as he is today, which will never diminish how he was, or Wayne Rooney's attempts to become a latter day version of his former hero, will push whatever happens in the Away Nations off the front pages next week.