Christine Ohurougu, who manages to make the Williams sisters look feminine, had to overturn a lifetime Olympic ban to compete after missing three drugs tests in a year.

Now either Ohurougu is dodgy or she deserves a second gold medal for forgetfulness. Indeed I'm amazed given her obvious absent-mindedness that she remembered to race and to find the podium for the presentation ceremony.

The lack of congratulations from her competitors and the toned-down commentary from the usually nauseatingly partisan BBC commentators (apart from those clots Steve Cram and Colin Jackson) spoke volumes for me.


SO I will it call it 18 gold medals rather than 19, a better-than usual tally, but still not one to go overboard about, notwithstanding the high quality of our minority sportsmen and women.

One downside of perceived success is the bandwagon-jumping of our politicians. The last victories of our cyclists were tainted by the presence of freebie-grabbing, war-mongering Tony Blair and his family at the velodrome.

And right on cue over the weekend, a Prime Minister who kept his head down as war raged in Georgia, managed to find a TV camera to promise knighthoods and celebratory parades for our biggest winners.

For what exactly? I dare say cyclists have to work hard to be good, but there were only about three other countries who appear to take the sport seriously.


THE BBC will no doubt trumpet the claim that they enjoyed a good Olympics and there were some successes in their blanket coverage.

Adrian Chiles is now so good he should replace that pun-making clown Gary Lineker on Match of the Day with immediate effect.

But the highlights for me are the trackside interviewers, a role which became cult viewing in the days of the truly awful Sally Gunnell.

There has been a slight improvement, but not much. There is something quite cruel and nothing at all enlightening, about speaking to athletes, especially our flops, straight after they've been eliminated in the heats of their event.



IT'S early days in the Premier League, but it's already shaping up to be terminally dull.

Chelsea will probably win the title by 20 points.

They've bought better than any of their rivals and they are now playing with flair thanks to the appointment of a Brazilian as manager (I know I said he'd be rubbish, but I'd now rather watch The Blues than Manchester United).

United have spent too long chasing that prima donna Dimitar Berbatov and the man who won them the title last season doesn't even want to be at Old Trafford any more.

Arsenal have gone backwards and the signing of an injury-prone duffer like Mikael Sylvestre suggests Arsene Wenger has given up.

And it's a similar story at Liverpool. Their boss Rafa Benitez has spent all summer chasing a plodding central midfielder in Gareth Barry when he desperately needs someone like Ashley Young from the same club.

No team can win anything playing Dirk Kuyt on a flank.

Honestly this management lark isn't as difficult as some like to make out.