So, after checking what DFS are offering on a god-awful sofa these days, we return to the spectacular insights of  Robbie Earle. Take Everton’s goal against Liverpool today, for example. Clearly the execution of a training ground move (Tim Cahill waited off the pitch until a corner was played in. Whilst waiting, he was instructing his players where to stand and where to move, after which he sneeked on to the pitch virutally scored himself), Robbie Earle has this nugget: “I think it was a training ground move.” Brilliant Robbie, have a gold star.

The coverage has arguably improved since the days of Andy Townsend sitting in an appropriately named ‘Tactics Truck’ (essentially a van with Andy Townsend in the back), but there is still the perennial problem of having morons with checked shirts and fat ties stood on the pitch-side playing Subbuteo.

And I honestly have no idea what this year’s FA Cup credits are about. A constructing of the FA Cup as an 10-storey architectural nightmare in the landscapes of Yorkshire?

This is a fantastic idea until you realise his ‘best bits’ include mislaid passes, less-than-pinpoint crosses and wild shots off target. And lets face it – that’s a pretty retarded way of selling yourself. Harry Redknapp would surely have had a duckfit at some of the misses.

The astounding thing is that Valencia, Marseille, Wigan, Hull and West Brom are reportedly in for the 21 year old.Whilst he has got skill, one must remember it’s being demonstrated against League Two defences, who doubtless would be as good as stopping a barage as a sandbag in Tewkesbury.

No disrespect to League Two - it’s where my beloved Grimsby Town ply their trade – but, realistically, no-one can describe 90% of the football on show as nothing short of shocking. It’s statistically proven that 93.4% of League Two strikers think that the goalposts they’re aiming at are in Africa, and that 86% of defenders in the league think a good tackle is something reserved only for old men in waders.

On the idea of posting videos to sell yourself, it’s rumoured Nigel Quashie was also thinking about posting one to interest potential suitors Newcastle United. A good idea until he realised his ‘best bits’ amounted to a three second clip of him being substituted.

What better way to showcase snooker than with rockets and jokes? Except there were no rockets. Or jokes. In fact there was no sound at all. Just silence. And two men with terrible haircuts potting balls. You can imagine the crowd’s disappointment.

And honestly - who came up with Mark Selby’s name?  The Jester from Leicester? What, does he crack jokes in between reds and relax at home wearing bells and entertaining royalty and noblemen?

Come on – they could have surely done better than that.

“So Mark, welcome to the Snooker Stage Naming Comittee. We thought soon as though you’re a regular in the top 16 now we should come up with a jazzy name for everyone to associate with you.”

“Great – I’d like it to be something to do with Leicester – that’s where I’m from.”

“Fair enough, although not much rhymes with Leicester. How about child molester?”

“Er…I don’t think that’s the sort of image I want to be portraying, really.”

“No, no, you’re right. We don’t want a child molester on the circuit. How about Jester, instead?”

“But I don’t tell jokes. I’m a snooker player.”

“Well they’re the options. You’re either the Jester from Leicester or the Child Molester from Leicester. It’s up to you.”

Refereeing snooker, apparently, is a risky and dangerous business, where the white-gloved men (and women – sorry Michaela Tabb) cower in the corner in fear of a beating. Trust Alex Higgins to cause a raucous, eh?

It’s great to see Jimmy White taking action and stepping in too, by remaining in his seat and laughing at the whole thing.

I was watching – like all the cool people do these days – some snooker tonight. The commentator, in passing commentary of the game, started talking about the referee, Jan Verhass. He said he was the best referee in snooker.

On what do you base being a good snooker referee on? The ability to give a ball a good rub? Knowing when to tell an audience member not to use their phone (that’ll be after the phone has just gone off, then…)? Having the nowse to count to a maximum of 147 in increments of no more than 7?

I’m sure there is the odd archaic rule that has to be applied, like the ‘miss’, but seriously – don’t they just stand and observe?

I couldn’t for the life of me distinguish a good referee from a bad one. Perhaps the bad referees are the ones who turn up drunk, mount the baize themselves and swing their trousers above their heads.

These here results are from my first ‘proper’ race in preparation for the marathon in April. We’ll ignore that they spelt my name wrong and concentrate on the result, which I’m rather proud of. 

Much to my amazement, I kept on picking the odd runner off and eventually came 93rd in a time of 44 minutes 28 seconds. We’ll disregard the 92 that had the indecency to beat me and focus on the whopping 201 runners were slower. 201! Needless to say, I was very pleased with my efforts. The race was actually won in 31 minutes 49 seconds by a lunatic who’d decided it was a good idea to travel from Salford to race. He won in what is frankly a ridiculous time – I’d be checking him for Viagra (see previous post…) if I were the race organisers.

The weather was rather clement, as it turns out - it was sunny and there was virtually no wind, which was nice. I’d have still much preferred to have avoided subjecting my hands and nose to the arctic temperatures of November, but you can’t have it all your own way.

The race did nothing to quash my earlier preconceptions of club runners, either. Paula Radcliffe, disappointingly, wasn’t there to take up my challenge, but a high percentage of club runners were - proudly adorning their club vests, as if to make a statement of their speed and ability to runner faster than you. If they weren’t all so skinny and feeble, I’m sure they’d all have been puffing out their chests, too. As it turns out, not all of them were that fast and I beat plenty of them. In your face, club runners!

I even had the satisfaction of a sprint finish, where I beat about three or four others*. I resisted the temptation to turn round and give them a quick ‘ha ha’ as I surged past on the final bend - I thought it wouldn’t be classed as proper racing decorum.

I must say the whole day was an education into how runners really don’t mind showing off a bit of leg, or genitalia, for that matter. A large percentage were either wearing shorts which concealed nothing a pair of pants wouldn’t, or leggings. No shorts on top of them or anything, just leggings. That’s men included – with everything on show. It seems plainly evident to me now that runners were the demographic Frank Sinatra was alluding to when he mused over ’Born Free’ .

A good time was had by all, though. Now all I’ve got to do is learn how to do 10km and then another 30 on top of that. Nice.

*Overtaking one of the runners gave me particular satisfaction; having surged past me oozing the confidence of Tom Jones and with flagrant disregard for a steady pace, he was practically dead on his feet at the end, and I thoroughly enjoyed teaching him a lesson in pacing. Boyers 1 – Ill disciplined club runner 0.

So, it seems no drug is immune from giving athletes a performance boost these days.

The World Anti-Doping Agency have now announced they’re planning to investigate the benefits of using Viagra in sport. They think it could ‘enhance cardiac output and the transportation of oxygen to muscles’, but it seems far more sensible to simply test athletes for their ability to go hard and fast for a long time. 

Does this now mean we might have an influx of OAP’s taking to the 100m start line now they’re able to compete on a level playing field with the young’uns?

If it does transpire that Viagra does have sporting benefits for athletes, doubtless the doping agencies and governing bodies won’t have any trouble in spotting the offenders on the start line, given that they’ll all be pitching tents in their shorts. I would have said that was more of a hindrance, but there you go.

Hopefully no one will remember the name of Tim Montgomery in a few years. If there was any doubt of the depths of immorality that the sprinter, who ‘broke’ the 100m could plunge, it’s been in the news today that not only was he using drugs when he broke the world record in 2002, but was also high as a kite when he won an Olympic Gold in the 4x100m relay in 2000.

Tim’s record of misdemeanours is spectacular by anyone’s standards. From being implicated in the Balco doping scandal in 2005 and banned from athletics for two years, he’s now serving a 46-month prison sentence for his part in a million-dollar cheque scam. It’s also been revealed that he signed a near $100,000 shoe contract whilst still in college, which was in violation of the college sports governing body rules. If that wasn’t enough, he faces another five years in prison for dealing heroin. He only needs to admit to one more thing and then he has a Royal Flush.

Truly, he is an appaling excuse of a man.

Isn’t it astounding how no-one noticed any of this until 2005? Clearly, he didn’t learn how to launder money, take drugs and deal heroin overnight. Add to this that his partner, Marion Jones, was also bulging at the seams with steriods at the same time, and it’s a mystery how it went undiscovered for so long.

Stand-up parents that they are, Montgomery and Jones have left a child in the wilderness whilst they’re in prison. Presumably the scamp isn’t just wandering the streets and has been given to a family who deserves a child, but still, great example to follow.

So the Beeb have announced their pundit team for the forthcoming Formula One season. There aren’t any real surprises from the rumours - Jake Humphrey will anchor the coverage flanked by square-headed David Coulthard and former team boss Eddie Jordan.

Martin Brundle brings knowledge and wit in equal measure over from ITV, and he’ll be joined by Jonathan Legard in the commentary box – the former F1 correspondent for 5 Live. Ted Kravitz and Lee McKenzie are in the pit lane.

Doubtless Steve Rider will be jumping for joy at F1′s move to the Beeb, giving him plenty of time to think about his Boat Race coverage.

I just have one question. Will we all have to get new TV sets to accomodate David Coulthard’s massive square-shaped head?

This news, right here, is truly scandalous. Not simply for a Grimsby Town fan – who’s had to endure years of endless rants about money or the lack of it – but for any football fan in general, this is bad news.

It’s been announced that more than £28 million owed by struggling football clubs in England has been wiped off by HM Revenue and Customs. As Grimsby Town has struggled to pay its tax bill of £700,000 in installments over the last three years, these clubs in question (predictably Leeds United are there – it seems their lack of financial prudence continues to know no boundaries) have had a great chunk of (or, in some cases, all) of their debt wiped off. Gone. ‘No need to pay, Leicester City, we’ll just get our money from the clowns on the East Coast who are trying to run a football club honestly and properly!’.

As a Grimsby Town fan knowing how close my beloved club was to extinction, I’m mightily peeved at the news that no less than 18 clubs have been competing with an unfair advantage. No wonder we’re near the bottom of the league with just one win to shout about this season. Imagine what we could of done with the money if we hadn’t have had to pay the taxman – four Grant Holts, for a start.

The FA need to get tough on this. Teams like Leicester, Leeds, MK Dons and Darlington – all on the list – have spent thousands on wages and transfer fees, when they’ve paid virtually nothing of what they owe to the taxman. How is this fair? There are points deductions for those that go into administration, but those teams still manage to pay for players of sufficient quality to offset it. Would Bournemouth really be able to pay the wages of Darren Anderton and Lee Bradbury if they lived in financial reality?

The football league isn’t a level playing field, and it stinks. Personally, I’d throw half those clubs on the skip – Leeds United for a start. They’ve flown in the face of danger and have found themselves up shit creek without a paddle. It’s about time a big, big waterfall came along.

FYI, here’s a list of the offending clubs.

FOOTBALL CLUBS IN DEBT