Obviously. Though international tournaments such as the World Cup and the Euros are separated by a couple of years thus not an annual source of hazy disappointment, the scope for your scintillating summer of football, booze and blubbing into your pint remains limitless. More often than not its a catastrophic international balls-up by Englands hard-done-to squad stumbling out of a major tournament at the group stage in much the same way a sozzled hooligan staggers out of a pub at 2am and impales his head on the kerb. Mind, if youre from Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland theres probably nothing more inspiring than watching another almighty footballing cock up by the English broadcast live to billions around the world. Whichever way you look at it, summer just isnt summer in Britain without that abject, borderline suicidal feeling of utter despair.