Any idea what sport is?

God! Wimbledon really is the nadir of sports events, two weeks of screeching middle aged women (don't accuse me of being sexist, just look at the audience - YES AN AUDIENCE, NOT A CROWD) who frankly have no idea what a foot fault is or whether it requires callipers to resolve the issue, hooting and hollering about players whose names they vaguely recognise and GENUINELY getting excited about the result.

The oohs and ahhhs are truly embarrassing. 

Let's hope that all the favourites lose and they have nothing to cheer for, at least until next year.......please, please, please......yeh, like that is going to happen! 

Here we go, here we go, here we go...

Sorry, dear reader, I have been a tad tied up with my new life. Back in the real world England have been knocked out of the Euros, thank heaven as I was searching for a newly painted walls to give me some entertainment. England, Ireland and Wales have been beaten with varying degrees of difficulty by the southern hemisphere rugby superpowers whilst the Sweaties manage to beat the Aussies (closer to the truth is that the weather beat them - always been fair weather performers the men in gold) and then stumble past Fiji and Samoa and come back home as the heroes of the north. Go figure. The world is about to come to a finish if Mervyn King's proclamations are to be believed and yet the euro is still trading at around 20% above what should be its true value against both the dollar and sterling. Go figure again. The torch continues to find corners of the UK that most of us have avoided for safety reasons for many years. The Queen is having to cosy up to an individual who 20 years ago was considered to be promoting terrorism and petrol is not going up after all, due to the political equivalent of 40 recently decapitated chickens now running the country. Looking forward to the end of world, but only after we've got the Euros, one day series against the Aussies, the Tour de France (a Brit to win according to the bookies), the test series against the South Africans, the Olympics and who knows Mclaren may find a set of mechanics who can actually change a set of Lewis' tyres in less than a minute, before we get there.

Let's not mention Wimbledon!

Friends and Rivals

Ruddy hell! Well done ITV they've only gone and got Keano and Viera sitting next to each other, hell's teeth that's like getting Maggie and Kinnock cosying on the sofa circa 1988.

Desperately hoping that there is some sort of set to in this first game that leads them to renew acquaintances properly at full and/or half time. Imagine the disaproval emanting from the offices of Associated Newspapers.

So let's hope we are not about to set off on the Euro journey that involves a whole load of disparate nations trying to prove their worth, before the Germans get everyone to kowtow to them by lifting a trophy.....yeh, yeh that is EXACTLY what is going to happen (mixed metaphors but plus ca change!).

Finally, a footballer that I loved watching play the game in the Eighties and had admired greatly has, like so many others, become a victim of his own self importance. Michel Platini is in danger of believing his own verbage, which makes him a step away from Splatter (yep, I know). European football needs better, we do not need to plumb the depths that Sepp has set.

Come on anyone who can play football, and that's unlikely (sadly) to be Ingerlaaaand
.....