SIDELINE CUT:IT IS reaching the point where the rigmarole to decide who gets to host the world's biggest sporting events is more fun than the events themselves. Who can resist the delightful spat between England and Russia which has been taking place in the gilded foyers and snooty tea rooms of Zurich's best hotels all week?

The battle to host the 2018 World Cup has boiled down to a straightforward joust between England’s grand football tradition and Russia’s potential to become a new power in the beautiful game. Passions turned purple this week, with the English representatives becoming huffy because Alexei Sorokin, head of the Russian bid, was heard to complain about London problems with crime (not exactly a scourge alien to Russian cities) and that its young people went rather full-bloodedly at the booze (where was he when Boris Yeltsin ran the Motherland? And he is in for some shock when he goes to Newcastle).

So muted apologies have been offered and international relationships strained and as the days to the actual announcement count down (December 2nd), the whole episode has the faintest whiff of old Cold War mutual mistrust and loathing. It brings to mind Bette Midler’s great quip: “When it is three o’clock in New York, it is still 1938 in London.”

First, the arguments. The case for the Russians is pretty straightforward. They have the huge population, a bone fide football culture, a stable of oligarchs who have been merrily buying up sporting franchises around the world. They have beautiful cities. And, they have never had the World Cup while in England, they still behave as if 1966 happened yesterday. The Russians have left Fifa in no doubt they believe their time is now, arguing, with admirable over-statement, that if they are overlooked, then all their plans for developing the infrastructure will lie idle for 200 years. Not a decade, mind. A full two centuries. “If we didn’t get the Winter Olympics, Sochi would not be finished for 200 years,” went their argument.

There is something terrifically honest about the admission that rejection from either the International Olympic Committee or Fifa could have such a devastating effect on the Russian psyche. If Fifa says No on December 2nd, it will probably be enough to convince the Russians that when push comes to shove, the world still sees them as the bad guy in the Bond movies, sinister and baritone of voice and limited in acting range.

There is something heart-warming about the idea that on December 1st, tens of thousands of Russians will stand ready to embark upon a no-holds-barred infrastructural programme but that if the Fifa envelope opened on December 2nd does not contain the news they are hoping for, they will simply down tools and fall into a 200-year fog of despair. What the Russians have in their favour, is what all the travel brochures refer to as the mystery of the East. The prospect of Brazil playing Argentina in Moscow beats the pants off the idea of Brazil playing Argentina in Milton Keynes.

But that is not to disparage old Blighty’s chances. The pity for England is their Olympic turn did not come a few years earlier because you can bet the London Olympics will be terrific. It doesn’t matter that England is broke: London itself – “that cold furious bitch of a city” in the memorable phrase of Julie Burchill – will eclipse the best gymnasts and fastest athletes as the undisputed star of 2012. The same holds true for the World Cup.

The city is big enough and haughty enough to absorb these monster sports events without getting over-excited. And the Emirates, Wembley, White Hart Lane are all just sitting there. Added to that is the appeal of the provincial shrines like Old Trafford and Anfield and Elland Road; places that many fans around the world will want to visit. During the World Cup in South Africa, fans festooned in the colours of all nations used to pay emotional tribute at the statue of Nelson Mandela. It is not hard to imagine the scenes around the bronze sculptures of Busby or Shankly or Dixie Dean in England.

Blighty has other things going for it as well, not least cheerleader-in-chief/national treasure David Beckham. Regardless of your opinions of Beckham, the Fifa members would probably rather spend a week knocking around Mayfair with Becks – and maybe even Tom Cruise – than downing vodkas with Russia’s parade of former football stars.

So the next month should be fun. If ever Fifa needs to reassure itself as to its power, it just has to watch the way world leaders are willing to jump through hoops to get the nod. And so we can expect to see David Cameron, Aston Villa’s most powerful fan, rolling up the shirt sleeves and toe-tapping a football for the cameras in the next few weeks. But how Cameron compares to all-round action man Vladimir Putin remains to be seen. When the former chief of the KGB, a renowned judo black belt and a man who has hugged a (tranquillised) polar bear asks for your vote, you might be inclined to give it.

But then, maybe not. After all, Fifa gives off such a sinister vibe that even former KGB bosses might be prone to the heebie-jeebies. The Fifa sultans can be seen – through the tinted windows of expensive cars and the cordoned off foyers of expensive hotels – at any World Cup, floating slightly above the plebeian masses at the tournament on the magical carpet and then they are gone. They own the ball and they are untouchable.

Among the promises included in the English 2018 bid is €185 million profit for Fifa and hotel accommodation no further than half an hour from the match venues. The bucks are a foregone conclusion but the convenient spin from the dining room to the stadium will unquestionably swing a lot of votes.

What Fifa will not want is another month of English and Russian emissaries slagging one another off. If the row became any more unseemly, both contenders ran the risk of allowing the Spain/Portugal bid to get the nod by default.

And so very quickly, the mood in Zurich has quickly switched to high courtesy, with Russia’s Vitaly Mutko tripping over himself to praise England and making light of the Russian comments by observing: “As our classics say, you shouldn’t read Bolshevik papers before lunch”. That remark was a light touch but gives rise to the fear that the very mention of the word “Bolshevik” might be enough to reinforce old Ruskie stereotypes in the minds of the Fifa delegates.

These things often hinge on the slightest of prejudices. The destiny of the 2018 World Cup could boil down to the fact that some Fifa suit from the Antipodes would rather see The Phantom of the Opera in the West End than the Kirov ballet in St Petersburg.

After the uncertain pre- and post-tournament reception that Fifa received in South Africa and the adventure into uncharted territory that awaits them in Brazil, Fifa may well plump for the reliability of England next time around. It would be a shame for Russia and one can only hope that they don’t take it too badly. “I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia,” Winston Churchill said in very different times. “It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.”

If the Russians had any sense, they would use that as their World Cup slogan.