Piped into his suit, is Wayne wondering how he got into this mad, Wag farce?

REBEKAH Vardy once, rather brilliantly, compared quarrelling with Coleen, Queen of Wags, to ‘arguing with a pigeon’. ‘You can tell it that you are right and it is wrong, but it’s still going to s*** in your hair,’ is how she put it.

So maybe, just maybe, she should have heeded her own wise words before issuing her libel action against Coleen Rooney and hurling herself into the multi-million Wagtastic ding-dong currently unfolding at the Royal Courts of Justice.

Because with the blizzard of her own WhatsApp messages and a cross-examination so vigorous it nearly wrecks her sturdy blusher, at times it’s hard to remember Rebekah is the claimant, not defendant.

That it is she – supposedly the wronged party – who is here to clear her name and salvage her reputation. Which, to be fair, after five hours on the stand, feels increasingly frazzled and frayed.

Certainly, the Right Honourable Mrs Justice Steyn – more accustomed to hearing cases about Guantanamo Bay prisoners, Saudi arms deals and allegations that the Home Secretary is a bully – would be forgiven if she felt she’d hit peak Wag.

She’s already learned more than she could ever have wished about the meaning of emojis, the proportions of certain intimate anatomies, who was or was not called a **** by Vardy, the art of selling stories to The Sun and the ins and outs of life as a relentlessly self-promoting footballer’s wife.

In jam-packed Court 13, however, there’s no respite as Rebekah – in a black Dynastystyle £1,245 Alexander McQueen power jacket that looks suspiciously like the one Coleen wore a day earlier – continues to give evidence.

Six feet away, Coleen – in a £32.99 Zara dress paired with a single £2,000 Chanel loafer and aircast boot – gives her daggers and scrawls furiously on an A5 pad. Oh yes, and somehow doesn’t blow her top as the court hears messages in which she is referred to as a d*** and a **** . Beside her, Wayne looks like a suicidal bouncer. In clothes so tight he could have been piped into them, he glares miserably at the floor, perhaps wondering how, as England’s top goal scorer, he ended up the chubby pink pig in the middle of this mad, Wag farce.

On and on it goes, with Vardy denying selling stories about footballer Riyad Mahrez, model Danielle Lloyd’s miscarriage, the extramarital affair of an unnamed high-profile celebrity, lying on oath about all of the above and sobbing at the horror of the trolls who threatened her family.

BY mid-afternoon, no amount of clever contouring can conceal how knackered everyone is. Clearly, they had a bad night. Perhaps Vardy was kept awake mulling over her unkind indiscretions about poor Peter Andre’s manhood.

And we can all imagine the pillow talk chez Rooney Towers (worth £20million).

‘What were you thinking, Coleen – all our dirty laundry in public?’ ‘Thin ice, Wayne! Thin f***ing ice!’ Meanwhile, as Vardy weeps, Coleen scowls and poor old Wayne wishes he was safely down the pub, social media is awash with everything Wagatha and the nation has split into Team Vardy and Team Rooney.

Remember, this is only Day Two of the Great British Wag Off. There are five more to go! For now, though, one thing’s certain – there’s an awful lot of pigeon s*** in Vardy’s hair. But tomorrow’s another day – possibly even with Coleen on the stand.

So before we jump to conclusions, let’s see what it brings for her beautifully balayaged locks.