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Honesty Always Boosts Popularity

The media may not be able to get anything worth reading from the Portsmouth football players (although, given the squad was put together quicker than Paul Hart devourers his dinner, most of them probably can't actually say anything in English), their new owners seem to be more than capable of adding a few sparks to the fire. Via a translation, obviously.

Last week, Portsmouth’s new owner, Ali al-Faraj told the Saudi newspaper, Asharq Al-Awsat, that he had no interest in sport and has bought the club purely to make money. I'm not sure if he's seen them play this season, but either way, I think to have such ideas of grandeur he should probably be sectioned under the Mental Health Act.

I would think that al-Faraj's objectives have gone down as well in Portsmouth as those fucking chimes have at every other football club in the past ten years.

Given the majority of Portsmouth's performances this year, it would be a cheap shot to say that most of their players seem to have little interest in football either.

However, given the back-to-back 4-0 victories they have managed to record, a number of their band of no-names may have managed to boost their value enough to enable the owner to take a profit home in time for New Year.

I hope we see such signs of honesty, naivety and pure skulduggery from the rest of the sporting world when talking to the media. Just don't hold your breath.

Who's Meant To Be The Interviewer?

Some people really don't help themselves.

Last Sunday, Sky Sports' Geoff Shreeves forgot to engage his brain when he entertained the thought that Liverpool's Jamie Carragher would answer anything but "No" upon asked whether he should have been sent off.

Not even Marlon King would have been stupid enough to award himself a three match ban by answering otherwise, although perhaps we shouldn't be too hasty there. King is the man that thought that a punch to the face was going to be a killer chat-up line.

Then Shreeves found himself redundant when Carragher turned the question on his interviewer by asking, "Why, did you?" For one sublime moment of peace and quiet, Shreeves was lost for words, until he bumbled onto his next question.

I happen to think it was a more incisive question than any that Shreeves has managed to come up with in his seventeen years at Sky.

So it would come as no surprise to see Carragher exercising more of his new-found talent on Sky Sports in the coming years... we know they have no standards, they call Jamie Redknapp an expert pundit.

Like Drawing Blood From KP's Diamond Earrings

Kevin Pietersen is back. Back infiltrating our newspapers like a British couple sensible enough to go sailing in the Gulf of Aden. Whether he makes it to the field in his homeland, representing the country he remembers by checking the tattoos on his arm, is an altogether different question.

At least The Times had Alyson Rudd with her finger on the pulse of this new story. I think we can all sleep soundly at night with the knowledge that she believes the England batsman has hands like a girl. I suppose you can read the Times online for free these days, and you do only get what you pay for.

I think it's important to set the record straight on KP, PK, FIGJAM, or whatever new nickname Shane Warne has thought up for Kevin in his break from having his face stitched up so he looks like the Joker from Batman. I honestly believe he is the most entertaining and exhilarating batsman of his generation. A bit like a poor man's Brian Lara.

However, the merest scent of an interviewer's microphone and it seems as if Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant have written a sitcom about a world class cricketer who has the combined personality traits of David Brent and Gareth Keenan.

Nine hundred and eleven words were printed in The Times on the basis of Alyson Rudd's interview with Kevin. The most revealing aspect was that Pietersen once wore an uncomfortable pair of trainers when running in the Caribbean.

It would be easy to blame Rudd as an inept interviewer, unable to gleam anything of even the slightest note. Or even her editors, who upon reading Rudd's work should surely have made a greater commitment to saving the planet by cutting a page.

I, on the other hand, find it much easier to blame Kevin. I think it started when he stumbled over the stage when going to receive the Man of the Match Award for the 5th Test in the 2005 Ashes. We always want to see our sportsmen graceful in defeat, and more importantly in this case, in victory. Yet this performance can only be described in the same breath as Phil Tufnell's on Strictly Come Dancing each tormenting Saturday.

So Kevin is back. Personally I can't wait to find where his ghosted Sunday paper column will pop up.