To encounter the word “Olympics” is bad enough; to hear it prefixed by “London” is a citizen’s nightmare. Or will be. Every time you look, the costs of the 2012 Games have mounted and no one is intervening for fear of being called a spoilsport. It is like a quantitative easing gone hideously wrong. But there are many other reasons why England’s bid for the 2018 World Cup, to be launched on Monday, offers a much finer prospect to the country, not to mention the world.

How do I hate the Olympics? Let me count the ways. Their siting in tetchily crowded London — because the members of the International Olympic Committee, who do not have to worry about the discomforts of public transport, insisted on it — emphasises the overcentralised nature of England. The last thing London needs is more tourists, even for a fortnight. Closely followed by further “regeneration”. And, of course, more claptrap: after the customary assurances that “these are the greenest Games ever”, the main stadium will be thrown away like a disposable nappy.

The temporary eviction of dog-walkers and other innocent pleasure-seekers from a park so that equestrianism events may take place — even though we already have an equestrianism centre — is somehow symbolic. The Olympic Games are the enemy of true recreation. As the mowing of grassroots budgets emphasises, this is nothing to do with inspiring children or making them less fat and noisy. It is about medal-winning.

Before the fall of the Berlin Wall, we used to sneer at countries such as Romania and East Germany that tried — and failed — to obtain glory through medals. Now we have taken their place, feigning interest in rowing or cycling or anything else at which our elite excel, and it surprises me that so many taxpayers are acquiescent. Maybe they are too busy considering whether an MP should be entitled to claim 99p for a packet of Ikea dusters.

Yet the most sinister example of the power of the Olympics occurred only last year, when, for months in advance of the Beijing Games, we heard of little but the plight of Tibet. Protesting monks were on every front page. Then came the opening ceremony: no matter how much it cost China, it was cheap because it swept the Tibetan monks back into obscurity. I often wonder if they had a case or not.

So to turn to England’s World Cup bid is to gulp fresh air. If the FA is awarded the 2018 event — or the one in 2022, for which it has also applied, as a token of sincere enthusiasm — visitors will flock not only to London but to grateful provinces such as the North East and Merseyside.

Locals will watch out of football-consciousness rather than mere curiosity. It happened in 1966, when Middlesbrough adopted the North Koreans and 62,000 packed Goodison Park to watch Eusébio’s Portugal beat Pelé’s Brazil, and you can multiply all that now because interest in football has grown.

England is a great football country. You see it when, after the national team have been knocked out of tournaments, many fans stay. At home they pour so much into the turnstiles that stadiums have been rebuilt to a standard that equips England for a World Cup now, let alone in nine years.

These people deserve a break from the expense of travelling. The world understands that. It respects England’s place in football’s history (perhaps a little excessively, for the game the English devised had to undergo refinement by, among others, Scots, mid-Europeans and Brazilians) and the image of a once-feared national team.

For a World Cup to take place here would have the added validity of an Olympics in Athens (whoever decided that the Games should leave that city bears a heavy onus) while avoiding obscene expense in a country that, at the time of writing, is undergoing an economic and political crisis of imponderable gravity. A World Cup could only alleviate it. Good luck to the bid.

United relegated and Rooney playing for Real: a 2018 vision

Inevitably the bid makes you wonder where England, and in particular its national team, will stand as the tournament kicks off in 2018. All I should bet on is that Wayne Rooney will be the captain. He will be 32 and conceivably an attacking midfield player in the mould of Bobby Charlton, ready to lead the campaign by spectacular example after two fine seasons with Real Madrid, whom he joined after Manchester United’s relegation.

There will also be speculation that Rooney is to take over as England manager (Sam Allardyce is expected to retire at the end of the tournament, whatever the outcome) and, while some may fret over his inexperience, others will point to Alan Shearer’s trio of European titles with Newcastle United.

All Rooney needs, his advocates will say, is a wise old head at his side — and who better than the 76-year-old chairman of Rangers? Lord Ferguson of Govan is thinking it over.

The team for 2018 would play in a 4-1-3-1-1 formation.