This is why the England Band and their awful songs should be banned for the rest of the World Cup

The England Band are the cultural equivalent of some gammon England fan lobbing up last night’s burger, lager and vodka supper on the war memorial at Volgograd

The England Band are the musical equivalent of someone covering their house in England flags (PA)

A bunch of English lads with a mixed ability range, out of their depth but playing their hearts out at the World Cup for the glory of the nation?

No, not the national football team, who are humbling us all with their form, dedication and skill. I am, of course, on about that tin-eared unworthy musical accompaniment to the squad’s outstanding endeavours – “The England Band”.

There really is something deeply dispiriting about this uniquely English phenomenon (not counting the South African vuvuzelas you might recall from the 2010 tournament). It’s just such in-your-face, Sun-front page “support our boys” gammonesque nationalism, the philosophy where every public service can be on its knees, and every tower block a fire hazard and the economy grinding to a halt, but none of that matters because: 1. We’ve got Brexit, 2. We defeated Hitler a lifetime ago; and 3. Most important, England managed to beat Tunisia and Panama at the group stage.

The band are, as you can hear even on the TV coverage, metaphorically and literally, loud and vaguely aggressive, invading the rival fans’ ears whether they like it or not (not, probably) and knocking the same old tunes out in every square the visit.

The England Band are the musical equivalent of someone covering their house in England flags, the ones that have to have the word “ENGLAND” inscribed across the middle just in case you might think there might be some other motive for getting your giant St George’s banner, such as Waterloo Day or Gary Lineker’s official birthday.

The England Band are the cultural equivalent of some gammon England fan lobbing up last night’s burger, lager and vodka supper on the war memorial at Volgograd, formerly Stalingrad, or wiping their arse on a picture of Putin (understandable though that last gesture might be). They’re vulgar, and while there’s a wide space reserved for healthy vulgarity at any England football match, the band has no countervailing merits.

The repertoire is, shall we say, a little narrow. If I were an England player hard-pressed to hold the line against a feisty Colombia I think I’d find it distracting, and, yes, dispiriting to have to listen to endless renditions of the theme from the Great Escape, Rule Britannia and God Save the Queen, god help us, on trumpet and drum. With the partial exception of the national anthem, which sounds like a dirge whatever you do with it, none of them were intended to be played by a brass ensemble, and they don’t adapt well to the treatment.

I cannot help feeling that Thomas Arne, who in around 1740 sat down to compose his abiding work, might be disappointed at what has now become of Rule Britannia. It was first performed for Frederick, Prince of Wales at his country home, Cliveden, as the rousing finale to Arne’s patriotic opera The Masque of Alfred, but, thanks to the Proms and the England Band, it’s suffering horrific degradation nowadays.

There’s also the uncomfortable truth that these days Britannia doesn’t rule much of the world’s oceans, and is more likely to be polluting them with single use plastics. We can’t fly planes off our lovely new aircraft carrier, which apparently has to be protected by French warships. We may not be slaves, but soft Brexit may leave us a vassal state of the European Union.

It is said that the England Band refuse to play the Lightning Seeds/David Baddiel’s jolly tune “Three Lions”, for which the Lightning Seeds and Baddiel should be truly grateful. They had a bit of a great escape themselves there.

I suppose the other irony is that the brass-based England band is reminiscent of the Edwardian “oompah” bands that were popular in the years up to the outbreak of the Great War. These were largely made up of German musicians, but they disappeared, naturally enough, when the Kaiser decided to invade little Belgium (who are still in with a shout in this World Cup, by the way). So the England Band is inspired by Germans. Schadenfreude, eh?

To their eternal shame the fine name of Pukka Pies was attached to the England Band as sponsors until a few years ago, when I think the Football Association took on the job of funding their travels and making the necessary arrangements (i.e. begging on their knees) with foreign football authorities to let the band bring their instruments into stadiums where there is usually such tight security.

There are surely better things the FA can be doing with its money than this. Do they not realise that the band merely disrupt the football players’ concentration and add to the unbearable patriotic pressure on them to win? It is counterproductive and against the national interest. No other country does it, tellingly. The England Band want banning.

There was a rumour on social media lately that the Russian “ultra” fans would at some point set upon the England Band. I would not like that to happen, as they seem like nice boys, despite everything, and well-meaning if misguided. Even so, if Frank Lampard, say, broke the news at half time that the band had had their trombones nabbed off them by some ne’er do wells, I’d be quietly relieved.