LYNNE TRUSS: AN APOLOGY
This column would like to apologise to Lynne Truss of The Times for suggesting that her column was the worst example of football journalism currently in existence. Ms Truss, we have discovered, is only the second-worst sports writer in the nation.
Our new leader is Norman Giller, who pens a superb TV column in The Sun each Saturday, entitled �Giller On The Gogglebox'. That word �gogglebox' alone is genius, carrying as it does an Alan Partridge-style whiff of eight-track cassette players and driving gloves. Clearly, no-one in Britain has referred to the TV as the �gogglebox' since the mid 1970s. Except, of course, Norman Giller.
What's actually within his column? Well, Norman hands out �Giller Golds' to people who have done extremely well in the broadcasting sphere over the last week. The latest recipient is, incredibly, Bob Wilson. He'll never quite be Des Lynam, but the old Arsenal keeper still has a safe pair of hands, writes Giller in a ridiculous sentence which almost certainly ended with an exclamation mark before a younger and more talented sub editor deleted it.
Just as every rose has its thorn, so Norman and his army of readers must ruthlessly expose any mistakes made by TV presenters. This feature is a familiar part of tabloid TV columns and is usually called �Garry's Goofs' or �Charlie's Chuckles' or some such. Norman, however, dares to be different. Not for him the simple, self-explanatory �Giller's Gaffes' possibly in fear that the average Sun reader will not understand the word. No, �Giller's Goolies' it is. Now, where this column comes from, �Goolies' are testicles, not errors or gaffes of any kind. We can only assume the title is some kind of reference to balls-ups, or possibly to the Private Eye gaffes column �Colemanballs'. The latter, however, was named after the satirical magazine's �Goldenballs' campaign against the thankfully deceased Sir James Goldsmith and therefore is a simple rhyming device rather than meaning �Coleman gaffes'. The only thing �Giller's Goolies' does, therefore, is conjure up a wonderful mental picture�
Enough of all that. What else lurks within the complex psyche of this extraordinary figure? There is a heartfelt tribute to Jimmy Hill, the tone of which is that Hill behaves like an arsehole in order to win higher ratings for the BBC. All the criticism he receives? Jimmy the Jaw is prepared to take it on the chin as the Hill-Hansen jaw war becomes a top draw . Oh Christ.
The largest and most incredible item, however, is headed �Badbreath �n Skunk Kicking Up A Stink'. Here is its outstanding introductory paragraph: Missing from the ITV team is the sort of roguish humour that used to come from my Sun colleague Jimmy Greaves. He could give Baddiel and Skinner a few lessons on how to be funny without sinking into the gutter.
Being funny without sinking into the gutter, then. Would an obvious example be �Giller's Goolies'? Or how about cleverly altering people's names so they mean something offensive? Like �Baddiel and Skinner' into �Badbreath and Skunk', perhaps? (The genius of Giller means that he ignores the convention that the comedy names should sound anything like the originals like �Sad heel and Thinner' for example. But that, sadly, would not have been the rib-tickler that �Badbreath and Skunk' most certainly is.)
This is all clearly the work of a very old, very tired hack who by now should now be writing amusing anecdotes about shopping with his wife for the local free paper. Were it not for the following sentence, we would have saved the embarrassment of this man's family and not mentioned �Giller On The Gogglebox' at all. But when he contends that Fantasy Football League manages only to stoke up the yob culture we have to reach for our revolver. This high-minded tut-tutting - reprinted in the paper that single-handedly INVENTED yob culture and employs its high priests, Garry Bushell and Richard Littlejohn is a clear case of colour comparison among kitchen implements. Mr Pot, say hello to Mr Kettle. For this, and many other reasons, 365 says: Queen Lynne Is Dead! Long Live King Giller!

HOW TO BE FUNNY WITHOUT SINKING INTO THE GUTTER
Having taken note of �Giller On The Gogglebox', we thought we'd check out the roguishly humorous column written by his Sun colleague Jimmy Greaves and get ourselves a free lesson in gutter-avoiding laffs. Here, then, are a few selected �highlights':
GREAVSIE ON FOREIGN POLICING: Goodness only knows about Argentina and Chile, you get banged up there for having a hot dog.
GREAVSIE ON FRENCH LICENSING LAWS AND THE FRENCH LANGUAGE IN GENERAL: The French certainly didn't do themselves any favours selling booze on the streets of Marseille only to shout �Quelle surprise everyone is petit peed.'
GREAVSIE ON THE �CHILLY JOCKOES': The Scots only managed to attract friends, perhaps they can simply take their drink.
GREAVSIE ATTRACTS SOME SCOTTISH FRIENDS: A few years ago you had to lose every game 5-0 to go out in the first stage mind you, the Jocks still seemed to manage it.
GREAVSIE HILARIOUSLY AVOIDS THE CULTURAL STEREOTYPING THAT MIGHT PERHAPS CAUSE HOOLIGANS TO REGARD ENGLISH PEOPLE AS GENETICALLY SUPERIOR TO THE FRENCH: Surely the opening ceremony is supposed to reflect the host country as a whole. Where was the taxi swerving round the pitch at 100mph? And where was the giant croissant exploding into a million pieces at the slightest touch?
To paraphrase the immortal �Saint': You slay us, Greavsie.

LYNNE TRUSS UPDATE
The story so far: Lynne Truss, the recently deposed Worst World Cup Columnist In Britain is at France 98 courtesy of The Times. This week: Lynne catches a train from Montpellier to Lyons�
It's a sad fact about travelling. No matter how well you pack the minimum luggage, no matter how much you catch taxis, grab trolleys or buy tiny cases with built-in wheels, you will always have to shoulder all your luggage up four flights of stairs to your room.
Next week: Lynne on why, when you wait ages for a bus, three inevitably turn up at once.