I CAN understand why the English are miserable right now. Northern Rock's predicament and the government's lost data fiasco had already forced a frown on John Bull's brow before the England football team blew their chance to put smiles on all our faces.

But before the match even kicked off Steve McClaren and his team looked about as animated as mournful Mr Bean.

It was indeed a very wet night at Wembley on Wednesday when England took on Croatia but the fans were "up for it", as the pundits say. We had been granted a near-miracle reprieve thanks to Israel beating Russia and that made the match a sunny prospect whatever the weather.

But not enough, it seemed, to fire up Mr McClaren and the team. When the England coach arrived, I'm told, the squad barely cast a glance at the fans waiting in the downpour to give them a cheer. Perhaps they were focused on the challenge ahead.

If so, they did not show it on the pitch. While the Croatian manager was jumping up and down with excitement like a small boy at a circus, from the kick-off Steve McClaren and co just sat glum-faced under umbrellas.

Meanwhile, on the pitch, with the exception of Beckham and beanpole, our lads showed as much passion as a civil servant counting beans. It left me wondering what is it about the English that makes us seem such cold-blooded killjoys?

Next day, I was expecting my Scottish, Welsh and Irish friends to crow over our misfortune. Respect to them, for, showing rare discretion, they didn't mention it at all.

My thanks to them for showing, for once... typically English reserve.