Brace yourself USA, Mexico and Canada, a kilted World Cup conga is coming your way, powered by the souls of five million Scots. Nights like Tuesday in Glasgow are a reminder of the power of sport to enthral and unite, a nation coalesced around 90 minutes of pure, life-enhancing Scottishness.

Contrast that with the miserable mood hoovers south of the border, who marked another routine qualification to the greatest show on earth debating the conduct of Jude Bellingham and the lack of dynamic content.

Indeed, one organ summoned the shouty squad to send Bellingham to the moon instead of to next summer’s tournament. And that’s probably not far enough for some, who are outraged that a global superstar with diva tendencies might be miffed at being substituted.

Meanwhile concerns about audien

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