I ONCE tried my hand at busking using a kazoo. I made enough money that day to purchase half a Cornish pastie. I’m afraid I’m not musical and my rendition of Imagine proved unimaginable to the passing public, who thought I was attempting to replicate the mating call of a Canada goose.

But today I feel I’ve discovered an instrument that’s made for me. The vuvuzela.

This horn appears to play just one awful note.

Should it be banned at World Cup matches? No. If it’s traditional for South African fans to make that dire din at matches then more power to their lungs. In Britain, we should just turn down the volume on our tellies. This will silence not only that dreadful drone but also the trumpet involuntary of the commentators and pundits. Result!

But what worries me is this. Thousands of vuvuzelas have been bought by England fans who will be bringing the damned things home.

Does that mean that the vuvuzela’s painful racket will be dominate the traditional sounds at future cricket matches? Or Wimbledon? Or even, dare I say, Dean Court next season?

Part of the allure of football is the chanting of songs at matches and perish the thought of the dulcet tones of Cherries’ Red Army being drowned out by the vuvuzela earache.

Mind you, the vuvuzela’s popularity in South Africa apparently derives from a legend that such loud noises can kill baboons.

And the next time some baboon is sitting behind me at a football match and starts shouting out obscenities, you never know.

I just might be tempted.