I have a bee in my bonnet. Actually, make that 101 swarms of bees. Angry, menacing, giant bees. Whose queen bee has just been decapitated and they are seeking their revenge with lethal buzzing.

Bloomin' vuvuzelas. Thanks to this horn-like thingy, we've been having to watch footie to the sound of scratched nails against a blackboard. Urgh. Surely, by the end of this World Cup I'll be suffering from severe tinnitusitis.

Do I blame poor Robert Green, England's goalie, for his blue moment? Of course I don't - he must have been stunned, nay, stoned, by all that migrane-inflicting drone. In fact, if England does not make it to the quarters I'll blame it fair and square on the vuvuzelas.

The poor lads - they're not used to this din - they're used to the cheers of England's fans, who are among the best-drilled noisemakers in football and never stop chanting, 'In-ger-land, In-ger-land,' and bars of 'God Save The Queen'.

Instead, fans in the stadium have just given up: they're sitting there, frowning and biting their nails as they contemplate their health risks, other than goalie-blunder-induced heart attacks.

Because really, the vuvuzleas are bad news: they spread colds and flu viruses on a greater scale than coughing; they can drown out evacuation announcements, and most of all they can cause permanent noise-induced hearing loss.

The sound level of one vuvuzela has been measured at 130 decibels. To put things in perspective, a jet taking off is 140dB; once levels hit 160dB - and thousands of vuvuzelas blown at the same time go over that - it is cause for immediate physical damage.

So three cheers to the clever clogs who has planted himself outside the stadiums selling earplugs.

But us being out of Africa, we can't really put on earplugs can we? Our only option is to put the telly on mute, which takes me back to the World Cup of '98 when we were all watching the games on mute while listening to Dom Mintoff on radio toppling the Labour government.

The vuvuzelas are mighty irritating. Yes, I'd rather have festa petards let off in my backyard. Or have a neighbour with a hole in his silencer who starts the day and his engine at four in the morning.

Why, I'd rather listen to a track called Badass Soldier by what's-his-wannabe-face Clinton Paul something (check it out on Youtube to see how desperate I am) than having to sit through another 90 minutes of one long-winded interminable whine.

But that is what I'm having to do.

You might be asking by now, who was the bright spark who invented the vu-vus? Well, apparently it was this South African chap, a certain Freddie Maake (known to friends as 'Saddam' - very apt, given the torture he's inflicting), back in 1965. His first vuvuzela was an adaptation of a bicycle horn and made of tin.

He was banned from using it at the 1998 World Cup in France on the grounds that it could be a dangerous weapon. Undeterred, he found a plastic company to manufacture it. As of 2001, plastic vuvuzelas started being mass produced.

And South African footie fans started blowing into their vu-vu horns frantically during the last quarter of matches in an attempt to 'kill off' their opponents. Fast forward 10 years and Fifa is saying we have to embrace this hoot: "We should not try to Europeanise an African World Cup."

Now, I'm all for promoting local cultures and am a sheer advocate of when in Rome, blah, blah, blah, but honestly, I can't see the cultural and historical value of this plastic, brainless, white noise. It's the Chinese factory bosses who haven't stopped wringing their hands in glee as their pocket linings are growing fatter.

Meanwhile, half the football drama is lost in the drone: we can't hear the applause as the players emerge from the tunnel; the 'Oles' as each player is called out; the coaches barking orders from the touchline; the fans barking orders to the coaches; the players shouting at each other for the ball.

Where are the loud choruses of 'Oooohhsss' when a shot scorches just wide of the goalpost? And the sharp communal intakes of breath? The shrill 'Aaahhhhss' when a goalkeeper makes a match-winning save? Or the sudden, piercing crowd silence (when said goalkeeper slips)?

And what about the humourous chants and witty replies sung in unison by thousands?

Lost. Forever. Because everyone will be taking a vuvuzela back home from Africa and all the football games around the world will now have buzzing bees as a foreground noise.

The only consolation is that next World Cup we won't be complaining - we won't be hearing a thing by then.

krischetcuti@gmail.com