JOHANNESBURG—In an irritated battle of wills, South African officials slammed the door Monday on any possibility of banning vuvuzelas at the World Cup.

Hundreds of millions of soccer viewers got their collective foot caught. Nobody could hear them scream.

Vuvuzelas are here to stay and will never be banned, tournament communications chief Rich Mkhondo told reporters. Look at them as part of our culture. As our guests, please embrace our culture, please embrace the way we celebrate.

The implied rebuke of tournament boss and national hero Danny Jordaan, who seemed to suggest Sunday that the horn might soon drone its last, shows just how deeply all this complaining has offended South Africans.

That’s fine. But might we gently suggest that our cultural sensitivity stops somewhere around 80 decibels. And if so, let’s leave South African vuvuzelas, Danish death metal and NASCAR sitting in customs. Forever.

Over here, where they’re celebrated, locals are protesting that there is an art to playing the vuvuzela. Getting a trumpet sound out of one — instead of a wet splutter — takes a bit of practice. Once you’ve managed that much, you might eventually learn to create a honk that could be described as musical. Barely.

At a South African professional soccer match, the vuvuzelas form an organized chorus. Fans combine playing with dancing and chanting. The vuvuzela drone rises and falls depending on the action.

Here at the World Cup, we’ve already seen astounding choreographed cheers in the stands, the vuvuzelas being tossed about in concert like conductor’s batons. What we haven’t done is heard any of them, because the amateurs in the crowd are blowing their brains out non-stop.

Those guests Mkhondo is talking about? They’re the ones driving you crazy.

Estimates are that 650,000 vuvuzelas — which sell here for as little as 20 rand ($2.70) — were bought up before the tournament.

Starting Friday, they were suddenly available at every stoplight. Street hawkers catering to passing tourists are jacking the prices up nearly tenfold. Judging by the fans entering the parks — most of whom appear to be learning (badly) as they go — business is good.

Okay, so if the vuvuzela is here to stay, why can’t they just block them out on the televised feed? Not so easy, say the experts.

Apparently, the low drone of a vuvuzela operates on a similar frequency to the human voice. Eliminating the horns also dampens the sound of the TV announcer’s patter. Many of you have already resorted to that zero sum solution by muting games.

Sound engineers working here have talked about another sort of “art” — that of getting an audible feed set up at all. They’re quite pleased with themselves. You’re not. You can’t figure out how to work the remote, so they’d like to collectively invite you to come on over and try to do better.

I’m not trying to scare you, but it gets worse. In an effort to speed his journey to some special place in aural Hell, Mkhondo warned that the vuvuzela is coming to your town.

“The vuvuzela is now an international instrument,” Mkhondo said. “People will buy them and stuff them in their suitcases and take them home.”

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No. No, you can’t.

ckelly@thestar.ca