England’s footballers play Belgium in their final World Cup group match on Thursday. Although both sides have qualified for the knockout stages, Gareth Southgate’s men will be going all-out for a win.

If only we could say the same for Theresa May’s team. They’ve been playing Brussels for the past two years and have yet to find the net. That photo in yesterday’s Mail of Mother Theresa kicking a football at a village fete had me giving thanks that she’s only the Prime Minister, not England manager.

If the Brexit negotiations were a World Cup match, we’d be on the plane home. It might go something like this . . .

Good evening, and welcome to the magnificent Jean Monnet Stadium, as Britain prepares to take on Brussels.

It’s no exaggeration to say that this is Britain’s biggest game since 1945, when Winston Churchill secured a famous victory over Germany.

Excitement has been building all day, as thousands of fans arrived on specially chartered Airbus planes.

I should point out, though, they have been warned by Airbus that in the unlikely event of Britain winning tonight they will have to find their own way home.

The announcement has done nothing to dampen their high spirits. Sad to report, however, that those high spirits have got out of hand in some instances and this fixture has already been marred by violence.

Riot police were called to the main square to break up fights between supporters. Unusually, these skirmishes all involved fans who claimed to be supporting Britain.

Trouble erupted outside a bar when some hardcore elements started waving blue and gold EU flags. Locals looked on in astonishment as rival factions threw tables, beer bottles and accusations of treason at each other.

This bad blood spilled over into the stadium, with the British team being booed and cheered in equal measure by their own fans as they took the field.

For the first time, there are two bands in the stand at the end of the ground given over to British fans — one playing the theme from The Great Escape, the other belting out Beethoven’s Ode To Joy, the official EU anthem.

This discord on the terraces is merely a reflection of the mood in the Britain camp itself.

We’ve been hearing reports of training ground bust-ups and threatened walk-outs over disagreements about the approach to tonight’s big match.

Some insiders are telling us that manager Theresa May, after blowing £39 billion in the transfer market, has already lost the dressing room and is simply trying to salvage what she can from this game.

We’re only moments away from kick-off and it is clear from the starting line-up that May has come here hoping for a draw, at best, and would probably settle for a heavy defeat.

Not only has she made no preparations for a penalty shoot-out, she’s even forgotten to select a goalkeeper.

If the manager sticks to the same tactics she has used during the qualifying rounds, she will almost certainly give away three or four soft goals in the first five minutes. That will suit Brussels, the most stubbornly defensive side in Europe. Manager Michel Barnier has said he intends to keep a clean sheet and will play 11 men behind the ball at all times.

But we shouldn’t forget, either, that Barnier’s team are perfectly capable of attacking when they feel like it — as they demonstrated when they destroyed Greece in one of the earlier rounds, thanks to a ruthless hat-trick from their veteran German striker Merkel.

There’s also been some blatant gamesmanship from Brussels in advance of this game.

Barnier even wanted FIFA to change the rules, so the halfway line could be relocated in the middle of the Irish Sea.

But none of that matters now. The referee has the whistle to his lips, and the 2018 play-off between Britain and Brussels is at last underway.

Davis slips it back to Fox, playing wide right tonight. Fox is looking for Boris Johnson, who hasn’t been seen since before the Heathrow third runway debate. But he dithers on the ball for too long and he’s brought down from behind, not by a Brussels player but by one of his own team-mates.

That challenge will earn Dominique Grieve the first yellow card of the match. The free kick is taken quickly by Soubry, who receives the ball back from Ken Clarke and sets off on a mazey run through her own defence before slotting it into an empty net.

One-nil to Brussels!

Quite remarkable. Brussels have taken the lead after less than a minute, yet haven’t had to venture out of their own half.

From the restart, Davis again finds Fox, but as he attempts to move the ball forward, he’s flattened by Hammond. There are appeals to let VAR review the incident, but the referee waves play on and the pass is again intercepted by Soubry.

She dances past one challenge, past two and squares to Nicky Morgan, who v`olleys the ball into her own net.

Another own goal!

Two-nil to Brussels, and under three minutes played.

No movement on the subs’ bench yet, although I’m hearing that Rees-Mogg — nicknamed Gorgeous Gus, after the aristocratic footballer from the boys’ comic The Victor — has sent his butler to fetch his boots from the Bentley.

Unless May does something to turn the game around, this could become a rout. Who can save Britain? But wait! Here comes Boris, hoisting up his shorts and pursued by a salvo of bog rolls from the terraces.

As Soubry sets off in search of another own goal, Boris hurls himself at her, rugby-style, but he’s tripped cynically by Gove and falls short again.

That could be Britain’s last chance to get out of jail. At this rate they’re going to struggle to take the game into extra time — which could last until 2021.

Michel Barnier punches the air, careful not to dislocate his shoulder celebrating victory.

Mrs May sits with her head in her hands, pondering her own future. After this latest humiliation, the knives will be out.

Some think she was lucky to survive her narrow victory on away goals at the last tournament.

Meanwhile, fighting has broken out again among Britain’s travelling fans. It’s all kicking off.

From all four corners of the ground comes the familiar football anthem: ‘Oh, Jeremy Corbyn! Oh, Jeremy Corbyn!’

Some people are on the pitch, they think it’s all over . . .