Wake up England, the fun is about to start

England will sleep through much of this World Cup. The time difference between New Zealand and Australia makes that inevitable. Perhaps that is a good thing because, by and large, England sure has been sleeping through the build-up.

A few media types stirred on Thursday to deride the opening ceremony. Danny Boyle it wasn't. A man of a certain age singing "Howzat" - nearly 40 years after he briefly sent teenaged girls into raptures - and an administrator saying "May the best team win", with the emphasis on the wrong words as if he had spent too long practising it in the bath, was Australia's contribution to popular culture.

Australia might win the World Cup but New Zealand won the opening ceremony.

And before we move on, England were represented by ballerinas in Union Jack tutus dancing to "Money Can't Buy Me Love" by the Beatles. What on earth do we make of that? Maybe it was intended as a subliminal message to the ECB, a warning that after a decade trying to stabilise cricket's finances, the nation is in danger of falling out of love with the game. Or maybe it was a preview of the half-time show in this season's NatWest Blast.

Wake up, England! Rediscover that love. The World Cup is upon us. It is about to begin; yes, now. It is time to push aside the pessimism and negativity and soak up the delights in store. Otherwise in England this will become the Rip Van Winkle World Cup, where you will all wake up a long time hence to discover that the tournament is finally over, your muskets are rotting and rusty, your beards a foot long (even if you are a woman, because it is a very long tournament) and your dog is nowhere to be found.

Wake up, England. Who cares how you do it. If it grabs your fancy, you can even satisfy your mobile phone obsession and use Wakie, an alarm clock app which promises to pair you up with a total stranger who will call you to get you out of bed in the morning. Imagine that. You are slumbering through a World Cup group game when Ian Bell rings you up and says: "Get out of bed for heaven's sake, I'm 58 not out, I'm working my guts off here."

Believe it or not, there are parts of the world where ESPNcricinfo's 100 Day Countdown to the World is a perfectly natural thought process. Not in England though. Even the football World Cup is only allowed a week's anticipation at best. If a comet was hurtling towards earth and predicted to wipe out the entire planet, until the precise moment when it began to blot out half the sky it would just have to take its chance along with the supermarket run, the meet-up in the pub and a discussion about why they bothered making a second series of Broadchurch.

In Bangalore, the headquarters of Cricinfo, where I have decamped for the tournament, the sporting obsession is palpable. World Cup previews and re-runs flicker from every TV screen. The only place that will matter on Sunday will be Adelaide as India do battle with Pakistan. In India you will struggle to find a bar not showing the cricket; in England, you struggle to find a bar that is.

The Indian prime minister has sent personalised tweets to every member of the squad. A British prime minister, even an Old Etonian, would first check with focus groups whether being associated with cricket was a good idea in an election year. They would advise him to tread very carefully. Back in 1999, England made a mess of the opening ceremony, firework smoke engulfed the VIPs and Tony Blair told an aide that it did not entirely fit his vision of "Cool Britannia". The 2005 Ashes apart, cricket in England has rarely been cool.

To be English in Australia is to be the butt of a nation's humour. There is no cheerier way for Australia to begin the World Cup than indulging in their traditional bagging of the English. Presumably this is a more of a survival mechanism than ever after their prime minister chose Australia Day to give Prince Philip a knighthood.

Buy a coffee: "You're English? Ah, that's bad luck." Ask for a beer: "Your team are s***, mate." At least the taxi drivers rewarm the old jokes. "I couldn't live in England - it's cold, overcrowded and full of the English." On Friday, a plane circled the city carrying the banners that have adorned advertising hoardings all week: "Missing: pair of balls. If found, please return to the England cricket team."

There is a lot of flapping of gums. But at least they are enjoying themselves.

It was a relief to arrive in India with the World Cup about to begin. Inconvenient for sure, because a day after leaving the central heating broke down, and the tickets for Dara O Briain will go to waste, and there is a wedding in the diary that will have to be given a miss.

But it has been a wonderful escape from English negativity: the complaints that the tournament is too long, the reluctance to buy into the hopes and aspirations of a reshaped one-day side that is at least showing signs of adventure and ambition, and a general carping about the game that has become a default position that many cricket lovers cannot quite escape.

Wake up, England! But only when you are ready to join the fun.