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It’s the most awkward situation in any footballer’s life. The international is shortly to kick off, the anthem is playing, and he doesn’t know the words. Let’s call it the “John Redwood moment”.

Perhaps the player was in physio when the lyrics were handed out. Perhaps words are not his strongest suit. Maybe there are too many verses, and his memory is confined to his feet.

Perhaps he simply thinks that the lyrics are naff.

Because they frequently are.

Sadly we’re manacled to our national anthems, however laboured the lyrics and pedestrian the tune, because they were forged in the fires of history. The French sing of soldiers coming to slit their throats, the Italians sing of having a go at the Austrians, the Algerians heap abuse upon the French, and the Dutch have a pop at the Spanish.

If you want to see what is least appetising about a country, read its national anthem. In many cases verses have been dropped from official occasions because they’re just too offensive.

Life and politics move on, but the old anthems are stuck in ancient history. The Italian anthem requires footnotes, and for reasons I can’t imagine mentions the Cossacks. The Honduran song is so complicated it is part of the school curriculum, while the Dutch anthem (if sung in full) would be longer than the match.

Frankly, it’s nul points all round.