Land of the giants

It has been a busy few months for the obituary writers and December has seen the demise of 3 titans – Peter O'Toole, Nelson Mandela and David Coleman.

Peter O'Toole was one of the greatest actors of his generation, acclaimed for both his stage and screen work. He will forever be remembered for his iconic performance in the David lean epic, 'Lawrence of Arabia', and as the most nominated actor never to win a Best Actor oscar (8 - though he did receive an honorary award from the Academy).

In 1952 he entered RADA along with fellow students, Albert Finney, Alan Bates and Brian Bedford, all of whom went on to achieve far greater success than their mentors had predicted. In fact Peter O'Toole was only cast as T. E. Lawrence in 'Lawrence of Arabia' because Marlon Brando was unavailable and Albert Finney had turned the role down. Other films for which he was nominated for best actor oscars included, 'Becket', 'The Lion in Winter', 'Goodbye, Mr. Chips' and 'The Ruling Class'. 
 

Best known as a Shakespearean actor he was equally adept at lighter roles such as Woody Allen's 'What's New Pussycat?' in which he was able to demonstrate his comedic skills alongside Peter Sellers.

* * * *

Think of the few personalities from the 20^th Century who were truly recognisable on the global stage – iconic people who could not walk down any street on this planet without being recognised. There are very few – John F Kennedy, Mohammed Ali, Marilyn Monroe, Queen Elizabeth II, Princess Diana, Gandhi, Pope John Paul II, possibly Pelé and Nelson Mandela.

Nelson Mandela – Rebel, freedom fighter, campaigner, politician, statesman, father of the South African nation and arguably the most influential person of the last 100 years.

As an influential member within the ANC he spent 27 years behind bars for trying to end white minority rule through violence before his release on 11^th February 1990.

He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize jointly with F. W. de Klerk, then South African President, in 1993 for their efforts to transform South African society. He succeeded de Klerk in 1994 to become the country's first black president, a post that he held for the next 5 years.

Few would argue that sport and politics should never mix but you can understand how many politicians would like to harness the two. Anyone who underestimates the power of sport to unite people never witnessed Nelson Mandela presenting the Rugby World Cup in 1995. His appearance at the final in the green and gold Springbok's shirt and cap was one of the most ingenious and powerful political statements ever seen. For a country that for so long was torn apart and outcast by its apartheid regime Mandela's gesture achieved more than any protest or fine words could in uniting the country and engendering the spirit of forgiveness.

                                 Nelson Mandela presenting the Rugby World Cup to South African captain, Francois Pienaar.

                                            Picture: Reuters

His death at the age of 95 on 5^th December comes at a time when cracks are beginning to emerge in the country he did so much to unite.

* * * *

In terms of sporting legends David Coleman was up there with the greats, not as a sportsman but as a broadcaster and commentator for the BBC for over 40 years. A keen runner he joined the BBC in 1954 as a news assistant and sports editor. He first appeared on TV on 6^th May 1954, coincidentally the day that Roger Bannister broke the 4 minute mile, on a show called 'Sportsview'.

He went on to present the BBC flagship sports programme, 'Grandstand', from its outset in 1958 as well as 'Sports review of the Year', 'Sportsnight with Coleman', 'Match of the Day', 'Quiz Ball', and 'Question of Sport'.

Famous for his football and athletics commentaries he had a very easy presentation style and an encyclopedic knowledge of statistics that made his appearance at the teleprinter a joy to watch in days before computers and armies of researchers.

His versatility as a presenter was demonstrated when he was called upon to cover the siege during the 1972 Munich Olympics as well as the memorial service for the victims.

He was also tasked with presenting the triumphant return from the US.

He covered 11 Summer Olympic Games between 1960 and 2000 and 6 Football World Cups before his retirement. In 1968 his commentary was recorded at 200 words a minute which may explain why on occasions enthusiasm would overtake him and he would make gaffs that would be seized upon by his satirists for their 'Colemanballs' collection.

                                                                 David Coleman in the Lenin stadium, Moscow, 1980.

                                                                 Picture: ITV

In December 2000 he was presented with the Olympic Order in recognition of his services, an honour generally reserved for athletes who have competed at the games.

As one of the millions who grew up during the Coleman era I would concur that his was one of the most identifiable voices on the BBC when it came to sport. Alan Weeks and Barry Davies possibly commentated on a wider range of sports but David was unflappable as a programme anchor. Certainly he is up there with the elite sports broadcasters who have that great gift of enthusing the public with their love for a particular sport, from that group I would nominate Brian Johnson, John Arlott, Bill McLaren, Dan Mascall, Murray Walker, Peter Alliss, Ron Pickering, Peter O'Sullivan, Cliff Morgan and John McEnroe, to name but a few.

I don't know whether the BBC had a deal with a knitwear company during the 60s and 70s but as a youngster I was very much aware that there were 2 individuals who excelled at wearing a wide range of sweaters, David Coleman and Val Doonican. It must have been around the time that the BBC was moving away from their traditional formal dress code, whether this was the inspiration behind the drive for sweaters on Breakfast TV, who knows.

Personally, I have mixed feelings about David's contribution to sport, undoubtedly he was a fine and fair broadcaster but I fear that this may also have worked against him.

I am not advocating a little less impartiality though I would say that there were occasions during David's commentaries when I felt that he set the sporting aspirations of this country back a couple of decades. I guess it was the essential Britishness of the man that I took issue with. He seemed to give the impression that it was unseemly to win by too great a margin. The sense that it was not so much the winning that was important it was the taking part – try telling that to an Aussie or a German when they are 30 metres from the winning tape. As cyclist, Mark Cavendish, said this year, 'Don't congratulate me on coming runner-up'. For the past 20 years school's policy seems to have followed the principal of 'everyone's a winner'. You don't breed champions by giving everyone a sweetie, hand the bag of sweets to the winner and give them a 20 yard start, that is how you breed champions. We seem to go to extraordinary lengths to beat the competitive instincts out of our children, which rather defeats the object when it comes to non-combative sports.

Here are just a few of his quotes that have sealed his place in broadcasting infamy.

"He is one of the great unknown champions because very little is known about him."

"If that had gone in, it would have been a goal."

"We estimate, and this isn't an estimation, that Greta Waltz is 80 seconds behind."

"He is accelerating all the time. The last lap was run in 64 seconds and the one before in 62."

"And the line-up for the final of the women's 400 metres hurdles includes three Russians, two East Germans, a Pole, a Swede and a Frenchman."

"The front wheel crosses the finish line, closely followed by the back wheel."

"The Republic of China: back in the Olympic Games for the first time."

"That's the fastest time ever run, but it's not as fast as the world record."

"Forest have now lost six matches without winning."

"There is a fine line between serendipity and stalking."

"This evening is a very different evening from the morning we had this morning."

"He's seven seconds ahead and that's a good question."

"I think there is no doubt, she'll probably qualify for the final."

"It's a great advantage to be able to hurdle with both legs."

“He is accelerating all the time. The last lap was run in 64 seconds and the one before that in 62.”

“There is Brendan Foster, by himself with 20,000 people.”

“And here’s Moses Kiptanui – the 19-year-old Kenyan who turned 20 a few weeks ago.”

David Coleman died on 21^st December 2013, aged 87

A tinselled tirade

Yo jingling ho! Here we go again. At last we enter the final few weeks of this year's jollities. Forget the fact that half the high street have been blasting out the Christmas hits album since September. The more enterprising stores even have some hyper-active hospital radio reject espousing the delights of this year's bargain offerings ad infinitum over a Tannoy system that is only marginally better quality than a megaphone. The script may say that the Deluxe box of Belgian Chocolates is a snip at only £195 and yes, everyone should have a mug that stirs itself, but I don't think I could sound as convincingly OTT about something that costs more than I earn in a week or is so typically pointless.

The word 'Exclusive' really needs to be redefined. So many 'Exclusive' in store offers can be found on sale at the same or reduced price, at stores often within a matter of a few hundred yards. In my mind the term 'exclusive' when used in association with the retail sector means 'batteries no included'.

This is the time of year when politicians pat themselves on the back for reducing the unemployment figures substantially by year end, disregarding the fact that they will rise just as quickly once the January Sales have finished. 

Nice to know that the politicians are finally going to take on the payday loans companies, even if they are prepared to wait until after Christmas by which they will have made enough money to keep them in clover for another year.

I can't say that I have been anticipating a great many surprises this year. Utility bills have risen faster than the cost of living again. Transport costs have risen again. Food prices have risen again. The banks have seen their profits rise again. On the bright side, Andy Murray won Wimbledon which makes him a virtual shoe-in for Sports Personality of the Year (a strange misnomer of an event given the number of previous winners whose single-minded ambition only emphasised the fact that they had suffered a personality bypass). Cliff Richard has proudly announced the release of his 100^th album, chances are it will still come in the top 100 selling albums of the year, a sad reflection on the state of the music industry these days.

Global peace is as far away as comet Ison, the 2km wide chunk of ice that passed incredibly close to the Sun this week (well 1.2 million km which categorises it as a near miss). Placing it in context this is marginally closer that England came to winning the 1^st Ashes test in Brisbane. It was never a good idea to have 2 Ashes series played within 3 months of each other, just another illustration of how corporate greed is demeaning the value of sporting achievement.

Tony Blair's efforts to secure peace in the Middle East at least means he can't screw this country up any more than it already is and doubtless his exploits please his bank manager.

Staying with sport, I am amazed how quietly Sir Alex Ferguson has slipped into the shadows following his retirement. I guess he can now focus his thoughts on his book sales. The Wenger boys still show 'spirit and commitment' but no silverware. There are times when they are brilliant to watch but often they flatter to deceive, much as Chelsea and Manchester City do. Not sure that I welcome the idea of the rights to Champions League coverage being acquired by BT. To get value out of your Sky or BT package you need to be permanently glued to your television set and I am not sure that the unemployed are best placed to afford the cost of the various sports packages.

Just when I thought there were going to be no surprises this year the following slipped under the radar – The UK City of Culture for 2017 will be – HULL. Other than Vladimir Putin being crowned Mr. Gay Universe or Kim Jong Un being nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize I do not think I could have been more shocked (or indifferent). The words Hull and culture do not sit easily on the same page. As one local author explained in a radio interview the East Yorkshire town is not twinned with anywhere, though it does have a suicide pact with Beirut. The best thing to come out of Hull remains the M62. It does seem a strange choice to be awarded such an accolade but if there is any place in the country that needs a moral and financial boost then Hull has all the credentials and more. Famous Hullensians include John Prescott, Maureen Lipman, Mick Ronson, The Housemartins, Phillip Larkin, William Wilberforce and J Arthur Rank.

Apart from the City's links to the abolition of slavery it remains one of the poorest places in the UK with one of the highest levels to unemployment. Not only has it given us the Deep and the 4x4 (that's 4 kids by 4 fathers, not the juggernaut car) but it has historically had to stave off invasion from the various tribes across the North Sea as well as West Yorkshire daytrippers who missed the turning for Bridlington or Grimsby. It does have a renowned university and the Hull Truck Company may have a good reputation for inventive theatre which are both positive signs. However, I have never felt the urge to observe a few rusting supermarket trolleys at the bottom of a giant fish tank nor have I understood why this particular part of the country needs its own telephone system. Hopefully this award will bring much needed investment and regeneration to the area but it is a massive challenge and I am not sure that the good people of Hull are ready to be cultured.

I once had to stay in the city overnight on a job that had run very late. I had worked so many hours that it would not have been safe for me to drive home so I rocked up at this hotel around 5 am, the room was small, dirty, the heating 'clanked' continuously and the bedding was grey and smelly (no, it was not Hull prison). It was difficult to tell whether the walls were purposely brown, or just smoke-stained, such was the lighting. Every expense spared by my employer, but beggars can't be chosers at that time of day and I was too dead on my feet to argue. The strange thing was that I felt guilty, because I was convinced that the night porter had pulled someone out of their bed to make way for me.

My tip for next year is to invest in confectionery – if Tie Rack and Sock Shop disappear from our High Street, as seems likely, then there are going to be a lot of dad's, uncle's and aging relatives receiving Werther Originals next Christmas.

Happy New Year.

Beginner's luck

Congratulations to Peter Edwards, a 62 year grandfather from Corwen, Denbighshire who has just collected a £125,000 payout from William Hill on a £50 bet he made 15 years ago. The bet was that his 18 month-old grandson, Harry Wilson, would one day be an international footballer at senior level. Last Wednesday the 16 year-old Liverpool midfielder came on in the 87^th minute as substitute during Wales' drawn World Cup qualifier against Belgium. At 16 years and 207 days he becomes the youngest ever player to represent Wales, beating Gareth Bale's record by 108 days.

A brave bet considering soccer is still considered to be the second sport throughout most of rugby mad Wales. Being cautious by nature I would probably have opted to spread my bets, possible a tenner each on playing football or rugby for Wales, a tenner to become Prime Minister, ten pound to have an album top the music charts and ten to become principal dancer with the Royal Ballet.

The odds of 2500/1 were particularly attractive in the circumstances; I wonder what odds you would get these days on an 18 month-old child getting a proper job by the age of 25 or ever being able to buy their own home?

The Grecian Effect

It has not escaped my attention that politicians no longer have faces like a bag of spanners and expressions that would suggest they have swallowed a wasp, so politics is now a career choice and not simply a playground for elderly men with a social conscience and inflated sense of self-importance. It is not just that I am getting older, politicians are definitely being elected younger and this is not simply down to regular use of a good moisturiser.

What I have also noticed is the effect that office has on those that do manage to reach the top table. Consider Bill Clinton, George Bush, Barack Obama and even Tony Blair – all came to office as fresh faced leaders with 'good' hair, yet within their term of office they all went remarkably grey. This is not some aging spamhead having a jealousy rant, this is a serious issue.

It concerns me when I look at the likes of David Cameron, George Osborne and Boris Johnson the few hairs that do remain on my head do stand up. Not only is there a noticeable absence of grey hairs but the barnets of 2 of the aforementioned are clearly getting darker and frequent use of TV makeup does nothing to improve one's complexion – my suspicion is that they both glow in the dark.

Given the state that the country is in I would have expected them all to have aged by about 20 years; Obama is clearly greying and he has similar problems to deal with both on the domestic and global front. I can excuse Boris Johnson because he alone knows what goes on inside his head, and I am not convinced anyone else really understands what that is, but Cameron and Osborne have clearly reached for the Grecian 2000 or some alternative brand. It is not quite so noticeable with David Cameron who was fairly dark haired to start with; he has always looked like a wax work to me and doesn't need any more moisturiser, but for George Osborne dyed hair against his pale skin just makes him look even more creepy.

I'm not sure that I want my politicians to look like mannequins, I want to see the responsibilities they have accepted weigh heavily on their conscience, aging goes with the territory.

By word of warning you just have to look at those who have followed a similar path during their time in power, Ronald Reagan and Silvio Berlusconi – hardly great advertisements for the youthful look. Furthermore, it should be remembered that 'Our Tone' eventually turned orange.

Another word of caution – Grecian 2000 contains lead acetate. Not only is it a carcinogenic but the amount found in each bottle is 10 times higher than the amount found in a can of paint. Maybe that would explain some of their stranger decisions. Not sure where I read that fact but now every time I see a politician or celebrity with black hair I immediately think of them having dyed their hair with Dulux emulsion (other brands are available from major outlets, always read the instructions on the tin), which leads me to thinking that any comments they make are equally false.

A sad loss for broadcasting

In the last few weeks we have learned of the death of 3 revered giants of British broadcasting – Cliff Morgan, Sir David Frost and David Jacobs, each of whom brought to the public an immense talent. Not only were they admired for their ability but also for their modesty. This week brought yet another sad loss in the guise of Tom Vernon, probably best known for his TV work as 'Fat man on a bicycle', but otherwise known as an accomplished author and broadcaster.

Cliff Morgan was one of the most outstanding rugby players of his generation before moving into broadcasting, where apart from being a commentator he eventually became Head of Outside Broadcasts for the BBC. A born raconteur with a tremendous zest for life he will forever be remembered for his commentary of the Gareth Edwards try for the Barbarians against the All Blacks in 1973. He was also a very generous man who never forgot his roots and did much for the sport that he loved, regularly putting in appearances at functions to help players and clubs that had not been as fortunate as he had been.

He could be very critical of his own performances as a broadcaster though my favourite story about him was an occasion where he allowed his enthusiasm to get the better of him during an outside broadcast; the intro music was rolling and the cameras were about to cut to him but the music was kept running until he finished telling a particularly good joke to his fellow presenters; being Head of Department does come come without a few special privileges.

David Jacobs was not really my generation though I do remember him presenting Juke Box Jury (which I hated as a kid and still makes me cringe whenever clips are shown on TV). He was also one of the original presenters of Top of the Pops. There have been so many changes throughout his 70 year broadcasting career yet he never changed, never even tried to, much to his credit. He had a wonderful voice and diction that lacked the 'formality and starchiness' of many of the BBC presenters of the 50's. His talents enabled him to turn his hand to anything from commentating on the Eurovision Song Contest to presenting Any Questions? On Radio 4. Famously he chaired the Any Questions? programme in Basingstoke which included the controversial MP, Enoch Powell, on the panel of guests. The show was interrupted on several occasions by demonstrators; at one point a brick was thrown through the church hall window, landing on the stage having narrowly missed David's head. The way in which he managed to deal with the incident while keeping the programme running is a lesson that any budding broadcaster should study.

It is unlikely that there will ever be another broadcaster like Sir David Frost. It was his great good fortune that he emerged during the 60s when people were still waking up to the possibilities of TV. He was at the forefront in an era of pioneering shows that pushed the boundaries in so many areas. He made his name as performer and presenter on the satirical TV sketch show, TW3, before moving on to the interview-based 'The Frost Programme'. He could do it all, writer, journalist, presenter, interviewer, comedian and what is more he made it look so easy.

The truth is that nothing in life is ever that easy, you don't get to interview the likes of Richard Nixon or Ian Smith by turning up on the doorstep and thrusting a microphone under their nose. A great deal of research and negotiation needs to be done before, during and after the event in order to secure coups like that. A producer friend of mine who worked with him once explained how David Frost would keep a catalogue of everyone he ever met purely on the off chance that he may have need to refer to it in the future – times, places, interests, who else was present, family details, pet's names, etc. Remember that there were no computers in those days and he had a fantastic filing system. This information struck a chord with me since I have tried to adopt a similar approach for recording information that I consider may be important to me in the future.

Today celebrities and politicians are more savvy about how to use the media, programme budgets are smaller and the opportunities for individuals to shine in so many differing fields are fewer.

Tom Vernon is perhaps not as well known as the illustrious names above though I consider his contribution to broadcasting as equally important. He is probably best known for his TV and book work as 'Fat man on a bicycle' though he was also a regular contributor to Radio 4's 'Today' programme for many years as well as being an original member of the BBC Radio London team. Tom is the only one of the 4 names that I ever met personally, when I first encountered him, he and fellow presenter, Mike Sparrow, were recording a series of short sketches for BT's Christmas message campaign. I was a freelance for the BBC at Hanover Square and our paths would often cross at weekends when the studios were more freely available. You always knew when Tom was in the building, first you you would hear 'the sandals' bounding along the corridor then the door would burst open and the room would be filled with this tremendous ball of energy and enthusiasm. Local radio was an ideal platform to ply his trade because he was incredibly gifted, and you needed to be, since you never knew what you were going to be tasked with next, usually at short notice. I was just starting out in the BBC and he would often find time to talk during his work, passing on tips and advice.

He was a wonderful story teller with a great sense of humour and was very knowledgeable on so many different topics. It was no surprise that he was able to transfer his talent to television. What made him special, as is the case with the others I have mentioned in this article, is that he was an intelligent broadcaster, he knew how to relate to those he was interviewing,how to listen,  when to ask the questions and when to allow the interviewee to speak, it is a skill that many of the modern presenters lack.

The media is a very powerful tool and it is a privilege to be a broadcaster, a privilege that all 4 recognised. The ability to convey a message or present a story to an audience either as information or entertainment is a wonderful skill that is underated and in decline. The secret of a good interview is to shine the spotlight on the interviewee. Analyse any interview by one of the above and I will guarantee that the amount of time that their voice is heard in comparison with the guest is considerably less, which is a tribute to how good these individuals were at their job.

In this celebrity driven, throw away society, the art of communication is something that is often talked of but rarely appreciated. These individuals understood that broadcasting is not simply about staged press conferences and sound-bites, the fact that their careers encompassed many decades is testament to their professionalism and the industry is a sadder place without them. 

 

The Great Tottenham Bale Out

Maybe this story should come under the Silly Season comments because from a neutral position my mind boggles that this Summer's bun-fest of soccer transfers to has focused on one man and negotiations that have lasted longer than the season itself. Not that you can blame the player, he probably had very little say in the way the transaction took place or the timing of events. Ultimately I think Gareth Bale's move to Real Madrid will be a good deal for all for all concerned. Tottenham have already made some shrewd investments in anticipation of the 24 year-old's departure, partly through clearing out some of their own squad and bringing in new quality signing that will give the side options and balance. There is no doubting Bale's talents which will be well suited to both the Spanish league and the Champions league. From a marketing perspective he will be another hot property alongside the likes of Ronaldo, Messi and Iniesta so provided that the club can keep him fit it is easy to see how the club can turn a profit on their investment however substantial the final fee may be. There never appears to be a shortage of billboards in Spain when it comes to advertising. I'm sure that within weeks Mr. Bale's face will be endorsing everything from tooth paste and hair gel to luxury apartments and cat worming treatments.

The amount of hype that the 2 transfer windows generate is ridiculous, largely fuelled by speculative agents trying to talk up opportunities for their clients, or players trying to engineers deals for themselves. Whether you view the windows as a good or bad thing I suspect will be influenced by whether your club's manager has just secured the services of a top player or has been battling for the past few months to keep hold of a prized asset.

It would be interesting to know how many players have used the confusion in the transfer market to secure an enhanced contract with their current club. It used to be that transfers centred on players in the English, French, German, Spanish and Italian leagues, now the game is so global that the Americas, Asia, Africa, Russia and the Middle East are all competing in the same market place and all the top clubs in each country have cash to splash on the top players.

The downside to this is that there are so many competitions and so much football being played that every club needs a large squad simply to compete at the highest level. The fact is that there are only so many players that are world class and my fear is that with so much money being focused on the top players what will be the effect on the journeyman squad player. Will up and coming players get the opportunity of progress to the next level or will their places be snapped up by overseas players who have established themselves in foreign leagues?

The Bale deal has confirmed my belief that the transfer windows are not a particularly satisfactory way of transacting business. I have never understood why the Summer window extends for a month into the new season. It seems illogical to spend June and July building a squad to play in a certain way then have all those plans disrupted through the loss or addition of a player. 

What has been evident this Summer is just how the future of so many players has hinged on this one man (well perhaps 2 if you include Wayne Rooney having a sulk throughout the Summer). The fact that this deal has been drawn out until the last knockings means that there are 2 or 3 Real Madrid players who may now find themselves surplus to requirements, if they are then offloaded then the knock-on effect will be extended to other clubs and other players. The log jam that this one move has created could mean that the next couple of days before the closing deadline could see some high profile players changing clubs at over-inflated prices as clubs are forced to make some last minute enforced adjustments. This may be exciting to headline writers but I doubt that it is good for the game, the players, the managers, the supporters or the club chairman. (Never thought I would feel sorry for a football club chairman). 

 

Silly Season Summary

The dumbing down of O and A level exams, the frailty of England's middle order batting, Prince William's nappy changing prowess, will we ever have sex with robots and Jeremy Paxman's beard – It can only be August and the Silly Season is upon us once again.

The annual scrutiny for the leadership of the political parties is not only the cheapest way of filling column inches for political commentators in the absence of MPs to give them sound bites but also forms a useful lead in to the conference season. Given the choice of reporting on a week of David Cameron's holiday antics or dreaming up a shortlist of likely and unlikely candidates who could fill his shoes I know which I would choose. It may be mischief making but the answer is simple, pictures of the aforementioned in Speedos and beany hat do not sell as well as speculation plotting his demise.

The Ashes series (part 1) was surprisingly good considering how inept both sides were at times. A few decent innings and good individual performances glossed over the fact that by and large there was a dearth of world class players and neither side had produced or did produce a performance of any consistency that would support their claims to be world-beaters. The weather may have played a considerable part in the outcome of 2 of the tests but the biggest disappointment to me was the influence of the technology, especially the 'snickometer'. As a traditionalist I was never in favour of the introduction of cameras and microphones to the sport. I felt it was a populist fad introduced by the television companies to spice up their presentation and still believe that before long we will have a presenter rushing on to the field of play at the fall of every wicket to capture the reaction of the batsman or bowler. Umpiring is a pretty stressful occupation without the scrutiny of cameras and slow motion replays, most of the time the umpires get the decisions right, so why make their job any harder by putting increased pressure on them. Having said that, I am in favour of having home country umpires – there are not enough elite umpires to cover all the cricket being played around the world and you can't expect them to maintain the same level of intensity when they are being called on to officiate in all forms of the game throughout the year.

I must admit that I slept a lot more soundly the night that I learned that William had been granted the honour of changing Prince George's first nappy but not quite as soundly as I did when Jeremy Paxman appeared on TV sporting a faceful of fuzz. Ordinarily this would have passed without comment but for the fact that the Newsnight presenter had pointedly made comment in a previous interview that 'No one would vote for the MP, Frank Dobson, because not only was he a politician but he had a beard.' - What an anchor! Rather than setting a trend for hirsute presenters his new addition only seems to have prompted a rash of articles on Pogonophobia (the fear of beards) – hooray for the internet and the spellchecker.

Despite having watched 'Westworld' in the cinema, the 1973 Yul Brynner sci-fi/western movie that depicted robots living alongside humans I have never given a great deal of thought to the prospect of having sex with a robot. The article that I read on this subject went on to explain how the latest models of sex toys have real hair and 'life-like' skin though there was a disclaimer saying that the toys lacked empathy. I would also hope that they come with a warning to those who have an allergy to Latex. I am no expert on robotics nor have I been intimately acquainted with any woman who has had extensive cosmetic surgery but I don't know of any other material that would feel 'skin-like' even if it does smell like a pair of old wellies. I think it unlikely that such a robot will ever feature on my Christmas list, the eyes alone would be enough to freak me out – I had nightmares when Palitoy brought out the Action Man with 'Eagle-eyes'. I even found the clockwork robot with the flashing red eyes that I received for my 7^th birthday disturbing. Then there is the issue of where would you put the batteries? Maybe there would be different models, different shapes and nationalities and libraries where you could hire them out – Perhaps they could be slot machines? I think that is enough on this subject – I remember how 'Westworld' ended; we have enough problems coping with our own intelligence let alone start picking fights with artificial intelligence and life forms.

The perennial argument over educational achievement shows no sign of decline. On the one hand politicians and educationalists want to see the number of pupils reaching higher grades increasing year by year and on the other there are those clamouring for subjects to be more appropriate to the workplace and exams to be more rigorous. With 25% of 16 to 24 year-olds unemployed or struggling to find work there has to be something radically wrong with system. I don't think the youth of today are any less ambitious than previous generations, nor do I believe that they are any more stupid. It is very hard to remain positive when so many doors are being closed in your face, equally there are only so many vacancies for forensic scientists, media consultants, psychologists and entertainers. The powers that be may continue to work their magic with smoke and mirrors, calling on the accountants to manipulate the figures in whichever direction it suits, the fact remains youth unemployment is scandalously high, not enough is being done to tackle it and we are storing up a time bomb for the future which extends far beyond the classroom.

As another August draws to a close we can set aside the silliness for another year and get back to the comparative normality of everyday life, whatever that is.

Hero of the week

No, not George Alexander Louis Cambridge, third in line to the throne, who made his overdue and over-hyped entry onto the world stage but Christine McGrail from Manchester. Having been refused service at a McDonalds Drive-thru on account that she was on horseback she allowed her 9 year old daughter, Olivia, to enter the store as instructed by the staff, together with her pony, Minnie, while mum waited outside on her mount, Dancer.

Previously the couple had been served at the drive-thru though on this occasion they were informed that they were not allowed to queue up with the other cars. Minnie, who has a fondness for Mcflurrys duly did what horses do and the police were called.

9 out of 10 to the Store Manager for spotting that the presence of animals with so many cars in close proximity might pose a health and safety risk, 0 out of 10 for failing to recognise the health and safety concerns of bringing an animal inside the store. (then what is a pony among 100 or so hungry kids?)

It speaks volumes that the horse-riding community can see no issue with taking their steeds into a restaurant then they have a long history of flouting the law. The only participant to come out of this incident with any distinction is Minnie, who 'performed' admirably. The nutritional value of her droppings were probably higher that most of the dishes on the McDonalds menu.

Mrs. McGrail was fined £90 for the 'alarm and distress' caused to customers though I suspect that this was considerably less than that on Minnie coming face to face with her ancestors.

7th Heaven

It was enough to send a numerologist into paroxysms of delight. The 7^th day of the 7^th month, 77 years since the last British male singles winner and the last British singles champion won in 1977.

Tennis has never been the easiest of games to watch, even at the top level. Games have sometimes been anti-climactic, one-sided, lacking in grace or simply plain boring with either booming serves or lengthy rallies that left you with the distinct impression that the players were being paid by the minute on court. Coupled with this has been the under-achievement of the Brits on any surface.

The game has changed dramatically over the years with the advancement of technologies that have brought about changes to the grass, the balls, the raquets and the umpiring. Players conditioning has improved beyond all recognition in terms of fitness levels, diet, nutrition and even their clothing.

As an avid lefty my personal tennis hero, and the guy I grew up watching, was Rod Laver – who wasn't even born when Fred Perry won the last of his Wimbledon championships in 1936 (Rod was born in 1938).

TV coverage has also made a big difference, especially with the slow motion camera and the wider choice of angles.

This year's championship has been one of the most memorable in history for a great many reasons. Every year has its share of fascinating encounters but I can't remember a year with so many matches of such high quality, both in the men's and the women's tournaments. I also can't recall a year where there have been so many upsets, ultimately it made the contests even more fascinating.

Within the first 3 days Roger Federer, Rafa Nadal and Maria Sharapova had disappeared from the line-up along with several other contenters who had either been knocked out or forced to withdraw due to injury.

The surprises of the first week left Serena Williams as a shoe-in for the Women's title, only to be beaten in straight sets by Sabine Lisicki. For once the women's tournament was wide open with none of 'the usual suspects' left in the running. The semi-finals threw up a very interesting combination of 4 players with very contrasting styles – the power of Lisicki, the dogged and unconventional Marion Bartoli, with Agnieszka Radwańska marshalling the base-line while Kirsten Flipkens aimed to get to the net as often as possible.

Andy Murray has much to thank Juan Martin Del Potro for in his semi-final game against Novak Djokavic, which was arguably the greatest game of tennis I have ever watched. The 5 set semi-final epic against the Serb lasted just under 5 hours in blisteringly hot conditions. I am not suggesting that Djokavic would necessarily have won the final though I do concede that the 40 unforced errors he made during the final was a lot more than usual by his high standard, though it is understandable that fatigue was partly to blame.

Murray's semi-final match with the Jerzy Janowicz was enjoyable for totally different reasons. The tall Pole with his massive serve was a fascinating encounter that demonstrated just how good Andy's return game is. In previous years the booming serves from the likes of Pete Sampras, Goran Ivanisevic or Roscoe Tanner were impressive but hardly entertaining.

His quarter-final match against against Fernando Verdasco also demonstrated how much the Murray game has improved, particularly his fitness and his temperament. To come from 2 sets down in the manner that he did was a great display of focus, discipline and determination, areas of his game that had previously let him down.

The quarter-final match between Del Potro and David Ferrer was another memorable occasion with the tenacious Spaniard putting up another stolid challenge to match his French Final defeat to Rafa Nadal.

This years tournament will also be remembered for one of the most bizarre matches I have ever watched – Maria Sharapova versus Michelle Larcher De Brito. The Portuguese girl has a decibel rating higher than the Sharapova Squeal, so watching these 2 grunt their way through 2 sets was never going to be an easy watch. On TV the squeaks, squawks and uumphs eclipsed the noise of the ball striking the raquet. The head movement of the spectators often appears to be out of sync with the action and during this match I was left with the uneasy feeling that the spectators were responding to the noise from the players with the ball becoming superfluous to events.

One of the most interesting comments following the victory came was a response from Andy to 'What he thought Fred Perry's response would have been to his success' – his reply being “Why aren't you wearing my clothing?” It should be remembered that for a long time Fred Perry was shunned by the tennis establishment and the absence of his sportswear logo from the arena of his greatest achievement has been very noticeable.

Perry was a working class lad who played with a style and aggression that was seen by many of the establishment at odds with the perceived spirit of the game.

Over the years the 'official' view towards competitive sport has swung to and fro, especially at schools level. Not everyone will be as dedicated or as talented to reach the highest level of the sport though if even a small percentage of those who will already be reaching for a racquet go on to play at club level then the boost to the economy and overall health will be worthwhile. If Andy Murray's victory doesn't inspire the next generation of kids and convince the bone heads at the top that competitive sport is a good thing then we may as well all give up the ghost and take up knitting.

Andy has built a wonderful team around him and if he can keep fit, focused and avoid injury then there is still time for him to add to his achievements. Go Andy go!

Intellipets

One of the most useless pieces of information to emerge this week has been the finding that a 2 day old chicken is more intelligent than an average 5 year old. Having had considerably more chicken friends than I did humans at the age of 5 I would probably have concur that they were pretty intelligent. Certainly I could not jump a 6 foot fence, trot off up the kitchen path and have a nose around the kitchen as one of the family's brood was given to doing from time to time. I'm sure my mother welcomed the company though I'm equally certain that, had my father been around at the time, the adventurous, feathered friend would have had received an early introduction to the oven.

It has taken Christine Nicol, Professor of Animal Welfare at Bristol University 20 years of research to come to this startling conclusion. Surely, anyone who has ever witnessed the carnage on the streets of Newcastle any Friday night would take less than 30 seconds to deduce that a 2 day old chick is considerably more intelligent than most humans in their early 20s.

According to her research hens can navigate using the sun by the age of 2 weeks. They also exhibit skills including numeracy, self-control and structural engineering from a couple of hours old – skills that it takes a human several years to learn.

Come on – get a life! No wonder so many people want to go to university. Maybe some kind benefactor would care to sponsor my 10 year program to study the origins and potential uses of ear wax.

Despite growing up with a veritable menagerie of pets I would no more wish to have a pet as an adult than rollerskate to Mars. There is something distinctly unnerving about watching supposedly intelligent human beings repeatedly saying “who's a clever boy then” to their pampered pooch who has mastered the art of lifting a paw (to shake hands?) retrieving a stick or barking what may vaguely pass as an aberration of the word “sausages”. You could argue that many animals enhanced sense of smell and/or hearing is a superior form of intelligence though it would take more than the ability to lick your own genitalia or crawl through a cat flap barely larger than your head to convince me that a pet was MENSA material. My neighbour's dog barks continuously from 5.30 in the morning until 11.30 at night without any prompting, does that mean he can tell the time or is it simply that he only knows how to make a noise (a vain attempt to attract the attention of an absent owner).

Last year a dog act won Britain's Got Talent - What a sad indictment of the state of the nation and a slap in the face for those entertainers who spend years traveling around the circuit with their act trying to make a living.

If dogs are so clever why do they spend so much time chasing the postman or their own backside? They are not beating their tails in time with Vivaldi's '4 Seasons' they are simply wagging their tail because they are pleased to see you. Dog's do not sing, they howl because they find a particular sound irritating. Get over it, your pet is not a music prodigy.

The British are depicted as a nation of dog lovers so why does the term 'I've been working like a dog' conjure up an image of ill-treatment. The saying 'you pay peanuts, you get monkeys' will be familiar to many employees, it is not meant to be a compliment to monkeys, the inference being that they are not the brightest beasts in the jungle.

The way that many owners fawn over their pets is incomprehensible to me. Back in the days when I used to visit many of my clients at their homes there were certain people that I tried to avoid, not because I was afraid of their pet but simply because of the way that either the pet or the client behaved. 

I found it very difficult to conduct a sensible conversation with someone who was jumping up or down from his seat every 5 minutes to go to the kitchen to let their dog or cat  into or out of the house. Another distraction was having a couple of demented budgerigars flying around the living room while I was trying to explain an important point to a client. There was a feeling of trepidation when walking into a living room that followed a ticking off I once received for inadvertently sitting in 'Rover's favourite TV chair'. It wasn't as if there was a great deal of choice, there were only 2 seats in the room and the client was sitting in one of them. At least I did not sit on Rover, though I did get the impression that he was not overly keen on my presence in the house. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he was in charge of the remote control. I won't even go into the kind of programmes I expect that they watched together.

I have sat listening to clients talking lovingly about 'Roger', 'Arthur', 'Lily' or 'Little Elsie' being at the hairdressers anticipating at any moment to be introduced to a relative I was unaware of, only to discover them to be an old English sheepdog or something akin.

Whenever a client started a conversation about their beloved animal 'being human and not knowing that they are a dog / cat / rabbit / goldfish or whatever' I knew it was time for me to pack my bag and head for the exit. I knew that my task was doomed to fail and from that point on I might as well have been speaking to a sponge. Clearly they had already taken the bonding process too far. Your pet may display a few simple human traits, you may feel a certain empathy towards them, you may even consider them to be part of the family but there is no reason to go soft in the head about it.

I remember a solicitor friend of mine telling me that in one occasion he had to brief one of his clients at his home and found it incredibly difficult to concentrate because he had converted an elaborately carved 1930's style dining table into a chicken coop and there were a couple of chickens clucking throughout the interview. I don't suppose they threw to many dinner parties.

Scientists would argue that chimpanzees are intelligent. OK, they may be able to learn a few tricks by rote, just like a toddler. You can dress them up in kiddies clothes so that they look cute like a toddler but that is about as far as it goes. So they put a chimp into space - yes, they blasted him into space in a capsule, he was not flying the rocket himself.

If I was to make any acknowledgement of intelligence in animals it would probably have to be cats. Not that I particularly like them but at least I can understand what makes them tick. With the possible exception of killing the occasional rodent and making half-decent draft-excluders what purpose do they fill in life? If they are not sleeping then they are eating. They can normally be found lying in the sun or the warmest place in the house and don't like getting wet. They are natural scavengers and rely on cunning to ensure that they are fed and watered properly. There is a logic to their thinking but is this intelligence?

Friends have told me that horses are intelligent. Jockeys tell TV pundits that their mounts 'know their way around a particular course', 'know when to lengthen their stride', 'are natural jumpers' or 'can sense when it is a big race' – it has nothing to do with them being prodded in their sides by the heel of a boot or slapped with a crop then?

Humans and animals have an inbuilt awareness of fear and pain that are essential tools for self-preservation. Most animals can sense when a person is apprehensive about them, they are also able to sense when their life may be in danger. Some animals are capable of displaying affection which may be perceived in a number of different ways, this is not intelligence, it is nature.

My father's advice was never to trust anything that had more legs than you, or was that his betting advice? 

 

In the unlikely event that I was given the opportunity to return to this planet as an animal which animal would I choose? I don't really know. I'm not sure that I would wish to return as a domestic animal. Wild animals are more appealing though if they don't have a load of predators they are probably on the endangered species list. I guess it would have to be a dolphin but I am in no hurry to exchange places.