NEVER mind the football, let’s talk about the big issue. How are you enjoying those vuvuzelas, eh?

Did you miss England’s goal – even if you weren’t an ITV HD viewer – because you were in the garden wondering were that swarm of a million bees was hiding?

I can honestly say I don’t mind the buzzing of these plastic souvenir versions of a traditional South African instrument.

But it seems I’m in a minority as broadcasters and officials start to wonder if they should ban the things from the stadiums.

My wife, and most people I talk to, are driven to distraction by the constant drone the vuvuzelas produce, but I find I can tune it out quite easily (an ability that is probably key to any successful marriage).

They are the unique sound of a World Cup that is distinctly South African, much like everyone still remembers the paper streamers of Argentina in ’78, or that awful crowd “wave” from Mexico ’86.

But I’ll still be glad to see – or rather hear – them gone.

The atmosphere in a stadium doesn’t come from musical instruments, no matter what that England band that trots out Bank Holiday Movie Classics at every match may think.

It comes from the singing, the chanting, the roar of anticipation as the action nears the goal, the collective howl of disappointment as another chance is missed.

The noise of the crowd is more than a reflection of the game. It’s its heartbeat.

True, we’ve at least been spared the more witless chants that ring out from time to time, questioning the eyesight or parentage of the officials, or the competence of the goalkeepers (which would at least have been topical).

But every nation brings its own flavour to each match, each crowd has its own tunes and individual sound.

Drown that out with vuvuzelas and the only flavour you have is vanilla.

Thanks, South Africa, for giving us something to remember.

But now let the rest of us have a say, eh?