History and tradition don’t ease the gridlock or provide an escape from the kettling ordeal at the train station which, sadly, for many, is part of the Twickenham matchday experience.

Why should it be so unthinkable to move England’s rugby HQ to a new location? The current home isn’t fit for purpose – for reasons beyond the control of the RFU – so the outrage about any prospect of a change of scene is unreasonable and illogical.

We live in a country which has turned into a nostalgia theme park; where you queue for far too long for an outdated experience wrapped up as heritage.

Twickenham is a world-famous sporting venue, but now it is being branded out of the record books anyway, as the sponsored name is applied to past events, despite the factual inaccuracy.

It began life on an old cabbage patch next to fields, only to be engulfed by the growth of London. So, precious space has been taken away. And there are acute logistical issues, given that the national rugby stadium lacks a fast-flowing Tube station close by; an asset used to great effect by Wembley.

Maybe Milton Keynes is a stretch, but why is it so inconceivable that the England team could be based outside Birmingham? Providing the infrastructure around it was state-of-the-art and fit for purpose – with efficient transport links in all directions – it would provide a better spectator experience for a greater number of people.

Of course, it won’t happen. A deal will be done; a compromise will be reached. But it is wrong that a relocation is dismissed as a non-starter, even though the existing arrangements are so unsuitable and unenticing for so many people, even those who live relatively nearby.

Twickenham can be transformed into a 21st-century super-stadium, no doubt, if they are going to throw the thick end of £700million at the task. But it is where it is. No amount of investment can make the location conducive to the sort of experience expected when top tickets cost £200 each.

These are business class prices for what can be a low-cost service. The RFU can’t control the infrastructure of the area, but they can control if they do a deal to stay there or not.

This has come to a head because of the need to raise funds from more non-rugby events, such as mega concerts by global stars. That should be possible, but not where the stadium is, because it’s stuck in a crowded residential area.

It is not NIMBYism to oppose increased noise pollution, not to mention railing against the spectre of drunken rugby fans urinating in your front garden.

All around the stadium are busy London suburbs; Twickenham to the south, Richmond to the east, Isleworth to the north east, Hounslow to the north west, Whitton to the south west.

There are roads and houses and supermarkets and schools, even an enormous sewage works very close by (luckily, down-wind on most days). It is hectic as hell, with no easy way in or out.

On matchday, local roads are shut down a few hours before kick-off. There are barriers and matchday staff everywhere. If you don’t appreciate a high-viz, loudspeaker-wielding steward barking at you non-stop about where you can and can’t walk, it’s not for you.

The stadium has plenty of gates all around, but over time a lot of car park space has been annexed by the expanding fan zone behind the west stand. The ones still operating are often waterlogged and muddy.

Inside, there is always a good choice of expensive food and drink, but long toilet queues within the towering, concrete edifice, with its new, shiny corporate hospitality centre in the East Stand. Bars do a roaring trade despite waiting times and prices. Many fans stay on for hours after the final whistle.

Yet, that doesn’t save them from the Twickenham station hell. Those who submit to it are corralled down a narrow walkway, on a convoluted route which becomes alarmingly uncomfortable and often feels unsafe.

The experience puts off many first-time visitors, especially older ones or those with young children. Others who avoid it wait an age for taxis offering price-hike fares, or queue for the shuttle buses to Richmond and then queue to go on from there.

So, how does it compare? The Aviva Stadium is in a smart suburb of Dublin, but it is operating with a small capacity as a result, which represents financial madness. At least it is possible to head to the city centre on foot if necessary.

The Principality Stadium is right in the heart of Cardiff, so it is easy to disperse into the city, but onward journeys by train are fraught with difficulty. Instructions via megaphone become the grim soundtrack there too.

Murrayfield has been boosted by a modern tram system and is a relatively short distance to the city, plus it has good space all around.

The Stade de France is in an area of industrial estates to the north of Paris, but that means less of a need to placate local residents.

Similarly, the Olympic Stadium in Rome does not have close neighbours to appease. Traffic is an issue and public transport is limited but there is no train station rush to dampen the collective mood.

Further afield, Eden Park in Auckland is similar to Twickenham in that the location in a well-heeled neighbourhood presents its challenges and limitations.

Approaching it by road, rail or on foot has echoes of the often tortuous matchday journey in south west London.

In contrast, Australia makes good use of its superior space – even in urban areas – with the likes of Allianz Stadium in Sydney and Perth’s Optus Stadium being accessible and modern, while the MCG is the market leader; near the city and such an easy commute.

The approach to those, through Moore Park, along the Swan River or on walkways across parkland near the Yarra, is a pleasant process.

As it stands, the home of English rugby is a cut-and-shut job; a cobbled-together series of separate development phases which has become out-dated as an overall entity.

The brave decision would be to start from scratch elsewhere, in a place where a truly modern arena with suitable, wrap-around infrastructure could be created; all shiny and spacious and joined-up.

But that would go against national habits. This is the land of botched projects; where HS2 stops halfway, where hospitals are left to crumble and where aircraft carriers enter service without any actual aircraft.

This is the land which embraced the phrase ‘make do and mend’ – an appropriate slogan in this instance.

Twickenham will be lavished with attention. It will become far smarter after all the millions have been spent. It will have a load more toilets and bars and glossy fixtures and fittings.

But no amount of money will be able to conjure up a Tube station or an adjoining motorway – or take away all the housing, the sewage works and the hemmed-in hassle of the journeys to and from matches.

So, what will emerge is a modern monument to all that history and tradition, with the same spectre of queues and kettling for those who are willing to pay business class – or even first class – prices for a low-cost experience.