Finally it’s time to talk about the world’s most prolific strikers and lazy prima donnas, those who are full of their own self-importance, strolling around for 90 minutes before going home to check their bank balance has been updated accordingly.

But enough about the French, there is a large football event starting this week, too.

As always on the eve of a major tournament, there is a thrill of excitement and anticipation, whether you want there to be or not.

Every paper you buy has glossy wallcharts falling out, children between the ages of six and 34 are covered head-to-toe in Panini stickers and flags hang out of the windows of houses on roads in which you wouldn’t really want to live.

The fact that England, Wales, Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland have all qualified only adds to the intrigue of the next four weeks, while there is sure to be a run on DVD boxsets and Netflix subscriptions on the other side of Hadrian’s Wall as our friends to the north desperately scramble to avoid all terrestrial TV until July 11.

Euro 2016 is likely to be memorable for a multitude of reasons, good and bad. It’s almost impossible to put into words how much I am looking forward to Albania v Switzerland – and that is not a feeling I am used to.

Only in tournament summers do the most obscure games between countries you’d struggle to pick out of an atlas take on significance.

To normal people that would be a game to swerve, a couple of hours to spend with family, doing chores, to earn brownie points.

To football fans, however, that is the start of an eight-hour binge which takes in Slovakia v Wales and then England v Russia, prime time on Saturday night.

The fact England are being led into the tournament by a Hodgasaurus Rex means I firmly expect us to breeze through our group, claiming four points and scoring two goals, one from a corner, one from a penalty.

There was so much positivity to bottle this season, so many bright English players who have competed all season long for the Premier League, that only lovely old Roy could allow it to dissipate by playing square pegs on the right wing and putting Jack Wilshere in a round hole.

I have no faith. But that also means I have no expectation which is just the way I like it a few days before the opening game.

It’s possible this tournament is the last we see of Cristiano Ronaldo, hate him or loathe him, one of the best players ever to play the game.

He is a supreme physical specimen and might well still be one at the age of 33 at the next World Cup but as we saw last week, there’s no guarantee his supporting cast will be good enough to get him there.

I truly hope sport is the abiding memory of the next month. I have friends going out to enjoy a festival of football, to immerse themselves in other cities, cultures, customs and cold beverages.

The thought that anyone, from anywhere, with any sort of agenda could use what should be such a wholesome occasion to make a statement chills my blood.

Let’s hope sport can unite the world for just a few weeks.