Why Does England think it's the best?

The recent humiliation of the cream of English football players has made me think.As I'm not a football fan,I've never understood the sheer idol worship of someone who plays football,and more to the point the sheer belief that it's our god given right to win against any team the rest of the world chooses to oppose us.

A tv diet of Jeremy Kyle and ads for Lawyers Direct has turned the nation of Agincourt and giving Adolf a bloody nose into trembling-lipped whingers with no perspective. For too long, we've deluded ourselves that we're the bees knees at everything.Before you all start listing everything that we were famous for,yes, we did give the world penicillin and passenger railways and the world wide web and the iPod. But within ten minutes, every country had a better railway system. And if we'd had to market, distribute and promote the iPod it would be the size of a wardrobe and only play Oasis.

It started with the upper classes obviously. Being sent out from Eton,Westminster or Harrow to farflung places to give them the benefits we enjoyed here; dull sex, over-boiled vegetables and leg-spin (20 minutes in the nets with a coconut and they were better than us at that too). When the Empire fell, we believed we'd been cheated out of it and secretly the colonials all pined for PG Tips and the Queen on stamps.
And it's an attitude that's trickled down to us commoners, sometimes disguised with a false modesty that hides rampaging blustering egos. That's why in England it is always the fattest football blokes who get their shirts off first on the terraces. They genuinely believe that after one glimpse of their pimply shaven heads and lobster-red lard bodies, those lissom signorinas from Milan are going to stop ogling Beckham and fancy a wobbling waist, a kebab and a Kestrel Super supper.
We still think we're the aristocrats of the world when really we are its hoodies. We believe at some level that simply being English gives us a place at the world's top table, when really maybe we should be out in the car having a bag of crisps and a bottle of Lemonade with Turkmenistan and Iceland.

We're at our best when we being are gifted amateurs. Take Dunkirk. Our finest hour is blokes in cockle boats from Margate bringing back our Army left high and dry as target practice for, erm, the Germans. Thank God, they weren't as good with their shooting back then.
Yes, we are the nation of Shakespeare, Bobby Moore, The Beatles, Monty Python. But we are also the nation of Jeffrey Archer, Glen Johnson, The Dave Clark Five and Terry And June. That's sort of loveable too. But calm down, eh, there's a good lad. And put your shirt on.