SIDELINE CUT:Was there ever a serious possibility the 22 Fifa delegates sat through the earnest speeches of Prince William, David Cameron and Becks with an open mind, writes KEITH DUGGAN

LOOK ME in the eye and declare that you weren’t secretly gutted for poor old England after Thursday’s World Cup announcement. Revelling in England’s misfortune may be a national pastime in tragi-comic Ireland but there is plenty of snow with which to do devilment this week and there was something genuinely saddening about the faces of England’s gallant emissaries as they learned of their fate in Zurich.

Poor Prince William! Who ever knew that he was Pres of the English FA? Or that he could deliver such a forceful speech? There was no mistaking how much he wanted this.

And Poor Prime Minister C! Short of donning his vintage Peter Withe shirt and declaring his love for Villa; short of actually performing keepy-uppys on the stage, the PM could have done no more for Queen and country. Still, even as Cameron talked passionately about what England could do with the 2018 World Cup (you can bet the first Fifa yawns were stifled when he mentioned “social changes”), the delivery didn’t feel right.

It would be difficult to imagine the Iron Lady having consented to jumping through hoops like these in order to secure a mere football tournament. It is unlikely Winston Churchill could have been persuaded to get up on stage and plead before the Fifa apparatchiks that England be given the tournament. And even as Cameron began his delivery, there was the nagging possibility that some of the Fifa blazers from further flung shores might not have been entirely certain as to who he was and might have felt a bit miffed that Tony Blair wasn’t bothered about showing up. International political leaders come and go; it can be hard for Fifa’s nabobs to keep track.

And what of Beck’s grandad, Joe? It was an inspired piece of rhetoric on Beckham’s part to invoke the spirit of his grandfather – even if it inadvertently implied that his old man did bugger all to help him with his football. Beck’s time in Hollywood has not been wasted; on the strength of this screen test, he could give Daniel Craig a run for his money when the next Bond casting comes around.

But it was all for nothing – less than nothing, actually. What happened in Zurich seems to have put the final nail in the coffin of the Dunkirk spirit. Fifa’s decision to “go” with Russia was such a gargantuan disappointment that for a second, Gary Lineker lost his You-Have-No-Idea-How-Great-It-Is-To-Be-Gary-Lineker look.

It was only for a second mind, but more than anything, it revealed the shell-shocked state of English confidence. A reader’s comment beneath one of the many indignant and scathing pieces of journalism that flashed up on the Fleet Street web editions said it all. “Deal with it,” instructed Leo Sigh. “Colonialism is dead.”

Cruel, alas, but true.

England is slowly but surely coming to terms with the idea that while it may have invented the beautiful game, it is becoming a bit player on the international scene. 2018 vanished with the cruelly casual way in which Sepp Blatter toyed with the envelope before confirming Russia was the choice. That was followed by the news that the 2022 battle for the Fifa World Cup trophy will be fought out in hot and dusty Qatar. That means the earliest tournament date England could bid for is 2026.

David Beckham is going to be 51 years old then. He may still be lining out for England but the man is going to look like Iggy Pop. (And Lord knows what Iggy Pop is going to look like). Prince William is likely to be king and too damn jaded for footie lark. David Cameron may well have joined the long list of obscure former prime ministers. Russia – whose leader Vladimir Putin and oil and energy oligarchs clearly view the 2018 World Cup much as the Chinese regarded the 2008 Olympics: as a prime time opportunity for a little muscle-flexing and razzle dazzle – could well have won the World Cup by then. Not only was England left feeling slighted by what happened in Zurich, she was left feeling small.

The view that England’s football people are naïve when it comes to the dark art of lobbying the right people within Fifa was substantiated by the innocence with which they believed in the eleventh hour presentation by the Three Lions, as Becks, the Prince and Cameron were dubbed. Was there ever a serious possibility the 22 Fifa delegates sat through those earnest speeches with an open mind? Was there ever a realistic chance that one of their clan would find himself getting misty-eyed as he listened to Beck’s stories about Grandpa Joe; that he would say to hell with protocol and the wishes of Sepp Blatter, he was gunning for ol’ Blighty.

It seems unlikely. The timing of Tuesday night’s Panorama programme could not have been better in terms of its impact or worse in terms of its public relations impact on England’s bid team. But it seems more likely Fifa’s delegates were out sampling the best of Zurich’s cuisine on Tuesday night rather than trying to watch internet broadcasts of a BBC current affairs show. That documentary and the Sunday Times sting were pointed in their criticism but Blatter and Fifa just smile blithely in the face of criticism until the storm blows over.

The English accepted what was a humiliatingly low return of votes with quiet grace. They had no other choice. To carp on about it would have been to imply they had some kind of divine right to host the tournament. Maybe Blatter and company honestly felt Russia’s (and Qatar’s!) time had come. Maybe it is all corrupt as hell. Maybe he just doesn’t like England.

In Johannesburg this summer, people gathered in a bar watching a night game noticed that among their number was a lean, long-haired man who was a dead ringer for Steve Nash, the brilliant NBA point guard with the Phoenix Suns. They soon learned it was, in fact, Nash, who is one of the more free-spirited people in the firmament of big-time professional sport. Nash was born in South Africa and raised in British Columbia. He excelled at all sport but, despite being skinny and just six feet tall and not really being able to jump, he is sublimely gifted at basketball.

However, football is his first love and he spent some of the World Cup roaming South Africa and making hilariously off-beat mini-documentaries for CBS television.

One of these vignettes featured a possibly tipsy Nash standing in a shopping mall as Sepp Blatter swept by with an entourage. Nash’s contribution was to sing, “He’s Sepp! He’s round! He bounces on the ground! Seppie Blatts! Seppie Blatts!” (It is up on You Tube for the world to enjoy). Seppie Blatts had no choice but to offer a sheepish wave at the camera but he didn’t look amused. Maybe England’s bid was doomed there and then.

Whatever the reason, the sepia memories of 1966 remain the one and only jewel in England’s international crown. Becks, bless him, leaves Switzerland feeling a little older and a little wiser. English football is going to have to reinvent itself. Now, if they made Becks prime minister! That might be worth a few votes.