The World Cup of national anthems

"Pinning the blame on the foreigner" is a popular party game in England, and at the moment, Eoin Morgan is on the end of all the pins. And why? Because he doesn't sing the national anthem. This is hardly fair.

It could be that he objects to publically proclaiming his desire for subjugation under the heel of a superannuated octogenarian whose main claim to fame is having been born. He isn't the only one.

On the other hand, he may not be a very good singer, in which case, he's doing the responsible thing. Singing in public is one of those activities, like killing secret agents, keeping snakes and flying helicopters, for which you should need a licence. Unauthorised public singing is, quite frankly, the scourge of our age. Everywhere you go: on a bus, on a train, in the dock at the High Court, you will find some anti-social berk singing.

These people used to be content with whistling. Annoying though the sound of urgent breathing through spittle may be, it's nothing compared to the violent urges inspired by listening to someone who thinks they can sing mumbling their way through "Happy" while confined in a packed lift. I don't care how happy you are, you imbecile, I'm going to bludgeon you to death with your iPhone.

Then again, perhaps he objects on musical grounds. Let's be honest, the English national anthem is a leaden-footed dirge, the aural equivalent of being lectured for five minutes by a pub bore on the evils of immigration.

In fact, if this were a World Cup of national anthems, England would be going home early. They wouldn't be alone, however.

The UAE's anthem, for example, sounds suspiciously like an advert for washing powder. Pakistan's is the kind of song primary school children belt out at the end of term performance, complete with pantomime key change. Sri Lanka's never gets going, India's starts slowly, briefly threatens to turn into something, then gives up, but is at least mercifully short, and New Zealand's anthem is like a hike in the mountains: starts off interesting, but by about half way you're feeling bored and wished you'd bought something to read.

Ireland and Scotland would make the quarter-finals, along with West Indies, who have the theme to a quirky 1970s comedy detective series as their anthem.

But the final would have to be between South Africa's anthem, which never fails to tingle the hairs on the back of your neck, and the surprise package of the tournament: Afghanistan. Their national song kicks off like a sinister science fiction epic, packs several changes of pace in its two and half minutes and ends on a rousing climax. It would be a deserving winner. Unless we could somehow persuade Italy to take up cricket.