The shame and blame - England win the battle against racism against Bulgaria.

The shame and blame - England win the battle against racism against Bulgaria.

The shameful events which unfolded last night in Sofia were another sad indictment of a society that has yet to resolve the rampant disease that is still racism, prejudice, xenophobia, violent discrimination and the despicable blight of racist tendencies. It is that vile strain of  neo Nazi hatred and unspeakable intolerance that continues to spread its potentially lethal poison where ever it goes. Once again a football match has descended into the fiery pit of degradation, humiliation and utter despair.

Last night should have been a cause of celebration since England, under the shrewd and immensely personable management of Gareth Southgate had beaten an appallingly bad Bulgaria side. By the end of one of the most one sided international matches in the history of football, England were cruising into a place at next year's European Championship with some of the most brilliant one touch football some of us have ever seen from an England side.

Sadly, with the game deep into the middle of the first half, alien voices could be heard from an understandably disgruntled Bulgarian crowd. But these were not the sounds of support or genuine encouragement. They were those very depressing acoustics we thought we'd never hear again at any football match anywhere. The men in black were revealing their nastiest colours, men wearing the uniform of the most obnoxious fascism, the waving of Hitler's fist, the espousal of the Far Right ideology, disgusting and filthy remarks that have no place at any public occasion.

For a while it looked as if they'd got away with it and despite the two lengthy stoppages in the game, the damage was briefly painful but far from being sufficiently disruptive to completely postpone the game. By the end of the first half England were so far ahead and seemingly running away with the game that a boxing referee would have immediately intervened with a towel. In retrospect maybe the half time whistle may have come to England's rescue.

When Marcus Rashford gave England the lead with a sensational opening goal after roughly eight minutes England must have been hoping that they'd avoid an almost instant  repetition of the Prague disaster. Then Harry Kane had given England the lead from the penalty spot only to be unravelled like a cotton reel by a Czech Republic side who responded powerfully, creatively and, it has to to be said, surprisingly.

Rashford it was who cut inside his defender, dropped a shoulder, dummied, shimmied and then bamboozled everybody with a breathtaking shot that arrowed into the top of the net like a well propelled missile. Then England stretched the lead minutes later after another English tapestry of passes from Kieran Trippier, Rashford and Kane had set up Raheem Sterling to complete the move with a simple tap in

Then the superb Ross Barkley, surely one of England's most trustworthy of midfield playmakers in years to come, stepped up to the mark with another performance of cultured brilliance. Barkley headed home England's third but did much to remind us that here is a player who could always flick the right switch, always measuring his passes with the most reliable tape measure and then scanning the whole geography of the pitch as if somebody had given him the freedom of Prague to do whatever he liked with the ball. And he promptly did.

By now England had been allowed to express themselves in pretty much the way they wanted to do. Kane, Rashford and Barkley were sprinting down the pitch in perfect formation and unison. It was pointed out that they reminded you of Olympic 4 by 400 runners running down the back straight and going as fast as they could. They were breaking and charging towards the Bulgarian goal as if nature had intended it that way. England were counter attacking with eye popping rapidity and lightning alacrity.

England's fourth goal came typically from another Kane inspired breakaway. High kicking his legs Kane kicked into fourth gear with a full pelt run that eliminated the whole of the Bulgarian defence. Trippier and Sterling responded in kind and it was rather like watching a flock of gulls flapping majestically across a blue summer sky. Kane, sensing Sterling darting instinctively into space, laid the ball off to Sterling who drove the ball into the net with the air of a man for whom goal scoring is becoming his natural gift.

Now Jordan Pickford, the England goal keeper made his presence felt as the most unlikely of England's creators. Rather than building from the back, Pickford tried to avoid the self indulgent ball to a player not a million miles away from him and launched an ambitious pass to the middle of the pitch. Here he found the English cavalry in slap happy mode. The Everton keeper found a precise pass which landed at Kane once again and the Spurs striker made up ground in no time at all. Sterling, quite inevitably in the right place and the right time, raced away as well to meet Kane's subtle pass with another goal.

The second half  would become the greatest exhibition of keep ball, possession football ever seen by an England side. It was reminiscent of every training practise session that you'd probably come to expect to see from Barcelona, Manchester City quite definitely, Brazil when the impulsive mood takes them and current world champions France but not England surely. How wrong were we?

Suddenly, you imagined one of those airport baggage carousels where the suitcases go round in every increasing circles but these England players were much quicker and sharper. England just revelled in the huge pockets of space that the Bulgarians seemed to be inviting them to venture into. The passes were tapped and nudged, guided and caressed affectionately to each other, backwards and forwards while never deviating from their original purpose. If only every England game could be like this one.

Clearly this was not the Bulgarian side that had once reached the exalted heights of the World Cup semi final in 1994. There was none of the world class style of a Hristo Stoichkov, nobody who could slow the tempo right down to the level of Stoichkov's cerebral footballing brain. In fact there were points during the game when you would have been forgiven for thinking that Bulgaria had been reduced to the also rans, the has beens  and the minnows of world football such was England's outright dominance.

When Harry Kane finally scored England's sixth and perhaps cruel goal England spent the rest of the second half contemplating their pan European adventure next summer when they can only dream of appearing in what would be their first major Final since the class of 1966. And guess what? It would be Wembley again so the enticing scent of a European Championship trophy continues to beckon. By then it is to be fervently hoped that the scourge of the racists will have vanished for ever and never show their ugly heads again. Oh for a blissful summer of European football.