Two for one on crates of Carling, £60 footie shirts for sale in Tesco and those pathetic plastic St George’s flags stuck on every third car you see - this can only mean one thing.
Yes the World Cup jamboree will soon be underway, so prepare yourself for square eyes, liver problems and ultimately some gut-wrenching disappointment.
Every four years, assuming we manage to qualify, the England football team puts the nation through the wringer.
Those of us old enough to have been here before know exactly how it will all pan out.
The manager will be doing his best to dampen enthusiasm and expectations, but that first beery roar as Daniel Sturridge bundles home a scrappy winner will reverberate around the nation like a call to war.
‘Perhaps it is our year?’ sages in pubs up and down the country will whisper.
‘Football’s coming home’ and ‘Jules Rimet’s still gleaming’ (might need a bit of Brasso) will echo around the town.
For a few weeks the papers will be jam-packed with the latest from Brazil as excitement builds and the nation holds its breath to discover which WAG spent the most on a shopping trip in Rio.
Then like a burst bubble it will all be over as England lose on penalties in the quarter finals - ideally with a hard luck story to rival Dickens and a foreign villain worse than Dick Dastardly scuppering us along the way.
Rooney will be swearing and sweating in equal measure as the team’s dreams are crushed once again.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to the football in Brazil 2014 as much as anyone.
I just wish the rest of the country was banned from watching it.
This year’s tournament should at least be familiar to people in Worksop - what with all the concerns about soaring crime rates and building projects not getting finished in time.