‘Three lions on a shirt, ...46 years of hurt, never stopped me dreaming’

It was the first time I’d ever changed a ring tone, so it took me a while to figure out how to do it, and it cost me £3.

But it was important I did it – because I know now that England will win, or at worst be runners-up, in this summer’s Euros.

I’ll wait for a moment while you climb back on to the seat you have just fallen off from. Or while you stitch back the sides you have split while laughing so much at my prediction.

Because you all know the score, you’ve seen it all before. England’s going to throw it away, going to blow it away. But I know they can play...

And how do I know? Well, I was at Wembley last week to see our boys lose 3-2 to Holland. And yes, we were rubbish, despite coming back from 2-0 down to equalise late in the game.

However, I had a strange feeling which began as I walked to my seat with a giant hot dog in my hand. I was rushing to get there because I wanted to hear the national anthem, but instead I got there just in time to hear Three Lions.

The hairs on the back of my neck literally stood to attention as that wonderfully bizarre song blared over the loudspeakers, and I begun singing along at the top of my voice, swaying my hot dog in the air. This embarrassed my son no end, and almost made him regret agreeing to come with me as his birthday treat.

But something about that song, and something about England, has made me optimistic for once.

This bucks a trend, because I am normally the most pessimistic man alive and I can’t stand all the hysterical patriotism that leads up to major tournaments.

I can’t stand the England flags on the car aerials and the way non-football fans suddenly feign interest in the sport and talk so knowledgeably about Becks and Roo-oo-oo-ney.

But I reckon this isn’t going to happen this summer because everyone is deflated. We’ve lost our manager, Roo-oo-oo-ney is suspended and Becks is about 307-years-old and no longer in the team.

For once, we don’t have a mega-star who is going ‘to set the world alight’, but who ends up playing like an elderly carthorse. For once, our supporters realise we do not have a divine right to do well in this cup and that we’re probably going to be knocked out in the group stages.

Instead, we are just going to take a team there, a normal team of good – but not superstar – players.

And, that’s where it’s suddenly going to go right, especially if Harry Redknapp is appointed manager. We will play without fear, without expectation, without hype and without WAGs.

With five minutes to go against Holland last Wednesday, everyone was depressed. We were 2-0 down and droves of England fans began streaming out. I stayed in my seat, even though my hot dog was long finished, because 85 minutes of hurt never stopped me dreaming.

Then England scored twice and for a moment we saw the old bulldog spirit. Holland then nicked it in injury time, but in a way that was good because if we’d got a result, everyone would have gone mad on the hype again.

Instead, it’s good to be down. The Germans normally enter tournaments with young average teams that are written off before they start – and you know what always happens with them.

So in the next week or so, I’m going to the bookies and I’m going to place £5 on England winning the Euros – that’s if the men in white coats don’t drag me away first.

I will also put up with ridicule in important meetings whenever my phone rings. I can picture VIPs looking on in bewilderment as Frank Skinner and David Baddiel’s voices begin crooning in my jacket pocket.

If I’m right and England are crowned champions, you read it here first and I expect a knighthood at the very least.

If I’m wrong and we end up humiliated, then I will deny all knowledge of this week’s column and will expunge it from our archives and our website.

But take it from me, 46 years of hurt is about to end. Football’s coming home in the summer.

Either that, or I’m going to have to work out how to change my phone ringtone back to something more sensible.