Londin Letter: English nationalism is once more on the march. And it really is o.k. In its current manifestation, indeed, it has become something of a byword for tolerance and inclusivity, and a quite remarkable spirit of generosity. All of which spells a growing headache for Prime Minister Blair, writes Frank Millar
Those who make a pastime of knocking the English might take note. The people have reclaimed the flag of St George from those who would have it synonymous with political extremism and yob violence.
Across the country, from council estates to million pound properties, the flag has flown in elegant testament to the patriotic "feelgood factor" which kicked-in on the Golden Jubilee weekend, carried on cheering Captain Beckham and the boys even after their defeat by the mighty Brazil, and now hangs its hopes (or dreams) on a Henman triumph at Wimbledon.
Nor have they cheered just for England. They cheered for Mick McCarthy's men, too, living every minute of the Irish team's World Cup adventure, quite literally adopting them as a "home" country for the duration of their heroic campaign.
At the start of the Spanish game the recently knighted Sir Bobby Robson started off discussing what the Irish might need to win the match. By half-time it was a simple question of what "we" had to do. In millions of homes throughout England people cheered their own side's defeat of Argentina, then died the death through Ireland's memorable penalty shoot-out, with no sense of conflicting loyalty or allegiance. And if White Van Man and just about everybody else seemed to be flying the St George's flag, there were plenty of Irish tricolours in evidence, too.
It seemed so natural, and somehow more desirable than the predictable delight registered in republican west Belfast and in Edinburgh as England's hopes of glory finally crashed last Friday afternoon.
All right: maybe, as one diplomat put it jokingly, the west Belfast brethren have a natural affinity with Brazil and learn to Samba from an early age. But some disconsolate English fans certainly thought the Scots - their separateness and nationhood now institutionalised in Tony Blair's devolved Britain - might have been a bit more generous toward the old enemy.
John Humphreys told of crossing England's other border to find a Welsh shopkeeper absolutely ecstatic at Brazil's triumph. Some other journalists, meanwhile, reflected something of the underlying irritation with the constant sniping at England from devolved regions whose citizens, after all, enjoy higher per capita spending levels courtesy of English taxpayers.
As over the World Cup, so on the Jubilee Weekend, indeed, one or two commentators detected evidence that that the sleeping beast of English nationalism had finally awakened - its first stirrings suggestive, perhaps, of a devolution backlash which might eventually translate into the long-predicted demand for a full-blown English parliament.
Plainly no one could entirely discount such a possibility in some future, as yet unforeseen, circumstance. However, while something very interesting is happening before our eyes, that does not appear to be its character or instinct.
One Conservative observer shares that sense of unfairness at joy on the Celtic fringes over England's misadventures on the football field. However, he also quickly recalls that it was not the Cross of St George but the Union flag which was in such evidence for the Jubilee celebrations.
"I think we do feel it a bit unfair. We go out of our way to support the home team, if I can put it that way, while they all seem to support the other side when England are playing," he says: "I suppose it was ever thus. But there is a lot more to the Union that football, and the Jubilee was clearly a celebration of a shared sense of British identity."
That it was so was indeed welcome reassurance for the House of Windsor and for a New Labour high command always sensitive to the charge that its devolution project could pave the way for the break-up of the UK.
That said, this rising tide of patriotism is a distinctly mixed blessing for Mr Blair. For it has been a celebration of Rule Britannia rather than Cool Britannia, much more heritage and monarchy than Britpop and Oasis.
The Dome, remember, was originally to play a central role in the re-branding of Britain - symbolic of a present and future society, looking forward rather than back, a "young" country carving a new identity at the heart of Europe.
Now Mr Blair finds himself cast alongside the Beefeaters in an appeal to the missing American tourists and confronted by a country which seems to feel no identity crisis whatsoever. And key advisers inside Number 10 are alarmed.
Trust (or the lack of it) has already been identified as a potential obstacle to Mr Blair's bid to scrap sterling and take Britain into the euro. The prime minister's men have now identified resurgent nationalism as another.