Gregory's Girl

Another game of squash, another resounding victory for yours truly. It is appropriate that my latest sporting success should occur at the same time we are garnering gold medals galore at the Athletics' World Championships and the old enemy has been well and truly put to the (Broad) sword.

If David Cameron is looking for the Olympic legacy, he has to look no further than me.

But enough of me...

I suppose I have to own up to not being enamoured with football. The far too short summer break will soon be over and the media will once again echo to the sound of spoilt children masquerading as sports commentators.

Ego fuelled money bags will spend obscene sums on buying over priced and over here "talents", and normally economically rational men will willingly hand over a King's ransom for the dubious pleasure of watching a bunch of twenty somethings chasing a ball up and down a muddy field.

We'll be subjected to the interminable, inane after match interviews with self satisfied middle aged men masquerading as managers. As well as the monosyllabic "dialogues" with otherwise unemployable yoffs with two brain cells: one in each big toe.

Oh, there will, of course, be the inevitable false dawn of the national team's revival, and acres of analysis as to why we're so much crap.

My antipathy to the "beautiful game" has nothing to do with my total inadequacy on the field of play. In no way connected with my complete failure of nerve when confronted by a left back built like a brick house. Or my inexplicable ability to trip myself up every time I had the ball.

On the cricket pitch I was a force of nature. In football having me on your team gave the opponents a three goal advantage.

My dislike of the game is based on a belief that this nation's decline over the past half century is because much of the male working population spend all their working day discussing the last match and constructing explanations why their team was such an abysmal failure. If all that creative activity was directed towards improving our nation's wealth, we'd be top nation for sure.

How the combined German economic and footballing success fits into this analysis is unclear. However I am confident that if football was banned in the UK we'd all be driving UK BMWs and holidaying in German South West Africa in no time.

In the meantime here's to Mo, Christine and Stuart and to the sporting renaissance of which I am such a shining example.