ON THE COUCH:A noisy television is the backdrop to this year's competition, and we have to get used to it, writes MARY HANNIGAN

NOW WE’RE whistling. True, the farewells were a bit tearful, it’s never easy saying goodbye to family and friends, but it’s only for a month and if there’s an emergency they can stick a note under the living room door. Shouting through the keyhole certainly won’t work, even a quarter of an hour in to yesterday’s opening game we reckoned we’d suffered a 50 per cent hearing loss thanks to those bloody vuvuzelas.

To be honest about it, we spent the last while telling any one who complained about the noise of the things they should get a life. Now? Well, any supporter armed with one should be given life, with no hope of parole, on Robben, Spike or Alcatraz Islands, wherever’s handiest for their relatives to visit.

“We’ve had a lot of calls complaining about the vuvuzelas,” Darragh Maloney told us, but, perhaps for fear of rendering George Hamilton’s presence in South Africa a bit pointless, he resisted reminding his viewers there’s a mute button on their remote controls.

Later in the evening Bill O’Herlihy revealed there’d been “a call a minute” to Montrose about the vuvuzelas, a disclosure that reminded us of just how oddly teeny our world is. Picture Dinny from Dunkineely ringing RTÉ in Dublin to complain about noisy horns in Johannesburg. Wacky.

Any way, Bill had no sympathy for us at all, telling us we’d “just have to get used to it, there’s nothing we can do”. No worries, in time we’ll stop assuming we have a swarm of boisterous bees lodged between our ears. Carry on.

So, the World Cup. Just the 5,760 minutes of football, not including injury-time, extra-time and penalties. There are words for days like these. Like, say, divine.

No more than ourselves, Sky News’ Jeremy Thompson is well up for it. He’s based in Johannesburg this weather, mingling with supporters. “A Mexican fan?” he asked the man wearing a giant sombrero, a Mexican shirt, with a Mexican flag draped around his shoulders. “Eh, of course,” he said.

But not everything’s that obvious. Like the decision to choose that bluey purpley curtain-type thingie draped behind our RTÉ panel, the marginally hypnotic effect of the lights drifting up and down it making it seem like a cross between a halogen lamp and a fish tank. Maybe like the vuvuzelas we’ll acclimatise. Or, as Roy Keane might put it, “get over it”.

Opening ceremony time. We usually welcome them as much as verrucas, but this one was very, very lovely. “We all commented on how good the dancers were, but I think that’s a natural thing if you’re from that part of the world, you can just dance,” said Graeme Souness, who’s yet to spot a rhythm-less black person.

“You can’t dance in Scotland in case your wallet falls out,” said Eamon Dunphy. John Giles laughed, even though he knew he really shouldn’t have.

The tight Scot, meanwhile, kept his hands in his pockets even when Darragh offered him a free English shirt, with his name on the back.

Dunphy and Giles were less hostile when their jerseys were produced, insisting they were mature enough to actually wish England well in the tournament. Hats off to them, it’s time for us all to grow up and move on.

Besides, we’re thinking of binning our USA shirt, Slovenian shorts and Algerian socks because they clash horribly, as the rather opinionated and mouthy check-out lady told us on Thursday when we were stocking up on microwavable burgers.

So, South Africa v Mexico. It took a while, but then: Goooooaaaaaaaal! A wondrous moment, one that ITV’s Adrian Chiles, sadly, missed. He was in the loo at time, the vuvuzela eruption alerting him to the goal, and, possibly, leaving him with a urinary tract difficulty from which he may never recover.

Chiles had finished powdering his nose by the time Mexico equalised, a goal that was greeted with despondency in Soweto where Ned Boulting was posted. “Yeah, they were a bit disappointed but there was warm applause at the end – they’re not daft this lot, they know their football,” he said. Thanks for that, Ned.

Next. “Bitter and resentful Irish fans look away now,” said Gary Lineker. France. Bitter? Resentful? Mais non. Back to RTÉ. The handball re-crafted. This time the officials spotted Thierry’s naughtiness and, voila, Ireland were through to the World Cup.

“Ah, what might have been,” said Bill, “but I’m sure you’ll agree it’s time to let go.” And then he had a chat about it with Liam “He’s Back!” Brady. “I know it’s time to move on, but . . .” he said, just as the wounds were healing.

So, France v Uruguay. Much ado about little. Until the 89th minute. Penalty? Henry calling for a handball! The referee says . . . non. Three words: ha, ha, ha. Okay, okay, we’re over it.