WHY I'M STARTING TO FEEL SORRY FOR WAYNE

By Andy Ritchie

SYMPATHY costs nothing but, for some strange reason - no doubt associated with my crazy career - I’m never too liberal with it.

So today’s question is: do I feel sorry for Wayne Rooney? Or, more accurately: do I feel sorry for multi-millionaire Wayne Rooney?

Well, here’s one straight from the Surprise, Surprise catalogue. Yes, I do.

Hey, the World Cup is off and running and people can hopefully concentrate on the football rather than the urban protests that have provided an uncertain backdrop in the long run-up.

But I fear all cannot be well on Rooney’s doorstep. It seems open season has been declared on him. He’s been getting it in the ear from Gary Lineker, Paul Scholes (his old colleague at Manchester United) and, soon, is due a performance assessment of a different nature from a former prostitute.

If the producers of Big Brother have their way, Helen Wood will recall his alleged three-in-a-bed sex exploits.

Poor lad: he’s got nothing going for him, has he? He’s got £250,000 a week and he doesn’t go without, if you know what I mean. What else is there in life?

Well, for starters, there is this World Cup in Brazil. It’s an important one for Rooney. To employ highwayman-speak, he’s got to stand and deliver. Whatever, he goes into action against Italy with the weight of the world balanced on his shoulders.

Forget Lineker and Wood. I reckon Scholes, the guy who for years worked and played beside the Liverpudlian in Manchester United colours, has been successful in inserting a shaft of doubt in Rooney’s mind by saying that his best days may be behind him.

So, has this former wonder kid, at 28, gone past his sell-by date at a time when he should be uprooting forests of football trees?

Has he fulfilled his potential? I think he has. He’s been lurking about our game for 12 years now since making his professional debut for Everton aged just 16. He’s scored a multitude of goals and stood the test of Premier League durability: he’s made great donations to the cause of Man Utd, and also been England’s best player for the last ten years.

You could comfortably argue that he’s not an undisputed genius like Lionel Messi. There have always been question marks hovering over his head - the way he lived his life, his weight, his hairstyle!

Look, we would have been raving about him probably had he moved to Real Madrid or Barcelona. Maybe his career would have gone in a different and more positive direction.

But the fact is that he’s stayed around his homeland for so long; we tend to become a bit bored with players like him when that happens and begin to stick pins in effigies. That’s what has happened here.

Possessing the neck of a bulldog, he’s got issues with weight - he’s the type who goes out of condition very quickly - and he probably won’t make old bones as a footballer. I can’t see him performing at any level at 35.

You might say it’s over the top to say he’s over the hill. But Scholes is close enough to the situation to put a decent handle on it. Indeed, he’s probably not a million miles from being right, because Rooney’s had all those tough years. And there’s only so long you can do that.

As for the Scholes issue, he’s spent all his career without a good word to say to the media - and now he can’t stop talking.

I wouldn’t think that his dig was intended as a spur. I think it was somewhere between telling the truth and - call me an old cynic - him doing something controversial for his Paddy Power app line.

I imagine he’s been coaxed into doing this; someone’s said: “We don’t want any of that drivel you get in the newspapers: we want something that’s got a bit more meat on the bone. You’ll never have a media career unless you start shouting out.”

So, Scholes has shouted for England. The thing is he has another career - as a coach at Manchester United. I’d vote for the job of fly on the wall when pre-season training starts at Carrington. Scholes versus Rooney: a catch weight contest.

Has Rooney been affected by what’s been said? I’d say he has, considering his revelation that they never been close and never had each other’s telephone numbers. If it wasn’t affecting him, he should have said nothing. It seems it’s been preying on his mind.

I would seriously doubt whether he will be able to banish this cloud of negativity that has enveloped him. His performances last season were okay in a bad United team: I feel his performances will be likewise in an ordinary England team.

Many people think he’ll have a great World Cup to make up for all the previous disappointments, but I can’t see it. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I tend to sway towards the Scholes contention. He's not the player of a couple of seasons ago when he was hot to trot and the name on everyone’s lips.

Scholes, remember, sees him in training, knows what his condition is like. And that has always been a worry - Alex Ferguson has referred to it in the past. I can remember reading that he could lose his physical condition in a fortnight.

Mind you, when all is said and done, I don’t think England will survive their section. As I say, I bracket them in the 'B' division. And, if they come home early, the fans will need to blame somebody. I imagine Wayne would be a prime target should that happen.

Deep down, I hope he proves us all wrong and has a wonderful World Cup. If not, he may need any sympathy that’s out there. Mine included.

SO NOW WE’RE RACISTS, BLATTER? IT’S TIME FOR SEPP TO BE HUNG OUT ON A FAVELA CLOTHES LINE

BY BRYAN COONEY

　

MY No Grey Areas colleague, Andy Ritchie, often suggests there are some people in this world to whom you could not give a red neck, even with the application of a blowtorch.

He’s right on the money, of course. There are men and women who are resolutely resistant to self analysis and any degree of embarrassment. They refuse to acknowledge incriminating circumstances and appear purblind to damning evidence.

Sepp Blatter is one such pathetic person.

Not long ago, the Sunday Times revealed serious corruption at FIFA regarding the 2022 World Cup bid of Qatar: it was the embodiment of investigative journalism, an acclaimed antidote to the deliberations of the Leveson Inquiry.

Detailed, forensic stuff, worthy of any pathologist’s report, it thus became a contender to be the sports story of this, or probably any other, year.

Now, the stench of chicanery has never travelled far from the front door of football’s ruling body over the years - there have been regular, disturbing, fairly nauseous emissions of putrefaction along the way.

But an inspired Sunday Times team finally sourced the whereabouts of the alleged sewage farm, not to mention the alleged sewage farmer, one Mohamad Bin Hammam.

The baton of alleged guilt was figuratively handed on a serving platter to Blatter and his organisation. His next course of action should have been simplistic in the extreme. 

All he was required to do was his job, marshalling the forces of justice - and perhaps even retribution - in order that justice was served.

He should have thanked the Sunday Times for executing a job he and his minions should have been doing since he replaced the risible figure of Jose Havelange 16 years ago.

But, this was the world of FIFA, the corporate, corrupt, contaminated world of FIFA. Blatter and Co knew what lay underneath the old Axminster. Many others knew it. So, why would he wish to focus halogen lighting on the imperfections?

So, the Swiss septuagenarian responded with a message plucked from the gutter, if not the sewer: he accused British journalists of being discriminatory and motivated by racism.

Had this man no sense of shame, no sense of the differential between right and wrong? No, this was Joseph Blatter to whom we were referring. He exists in a fantasy land of his own creation and should be equipped with a technicolour dreamcoat.

Okay, if we must, let’s give some credit where it’s due. You cannot command the presidency of FIFA unless you possess the feral cunning of an urban fox.

Blatter believes himself to be the original Mr Fox. Importantly, he is familiar with the stultifying rules of political correctness. He feels that flourishing the racism card is the ultimate deterrent to those with investigative noses.

Accusations of racism tend to stifle and ultimately suffocate debate, because no-one truly wants to be subjected to this smear test. Just as important, however, the racist card also assists the guilty to nurture and pursue their perversities.

But alongside the foxiness there is also arrant foolishness. He has allowed his FIFA omnipotence to insulate himself against reality. I imagine that this is one occasion when the accusation is seen for what it is - a worthless and pathetic smokescreen.

Sponsorship and racism: words that are scarcely ideal bedfellows. The bedlam you may hear is the sound of the backers distancing themselves from his crass remarks.

How long before they distance themselves from the blue riband tournament itself.

And how long before those nice young men in their clean white coats come to take him away, after his latest diversionary tactic: interplanetary football? If he's serious, he's certainly inhabiting another world of delusion.

Whichever way you look at it, Blatter's miscalculation has been gross on a galactic scale.

It infuriates me that matters have arrived at this juncture. Today, we should be speaking about the 2014 World Cup which is kicking off in Brazil. We should be celebrating the feast that is upon us - and the behavioural patterns of the potential dinner guests.

What we want to know is: will Luis Suarez show on the world stage what he has been showing on the more parochial platforms of England? Can Andrea Pirlo begin to dismantle Roy Hodgson’s best-laid plans? And, could this be the ultimate coronation for Lionel Messi?

Yes, we should be concentrating wholeheartedly on the Beautiful Game. For the moment, until the action begins, there is a focus on its ugly sister. Or, to be factual, its ugly brother - that dreadful little martinet from Switzerland.

I must confess to a bit of jealousy hereabouts. How I would have loved to have been involved in all this. Until I retired through illness back in 2001, I was head of sport at the Daily Mail. We prided ourselves on penetrating the heart of matters, particularly in football.

Therefore, if we spotted anything of a dubious or indeed iniquitous nature, we used to kick backsides rhythmically and regularly. Such a policy was not flavour of the month in some quarters. Some people who should have known better were openly hostile.

I remember Howard Wilkinson, of the Football Association, confronting me as he emerged from the gents’ toilet at London’s Savoy Hotel. He had a question - as well as a gargantuan cigar - on his lips. “Obituaries, obituaries, obituaries. Whose obit is it going to be next?” he inquired.

“It might be yours,” I responded.

At a Football Writers’ dinner at the Royal Lancaster Hotel, I met the then Liverpool manager Gerard Houllier. I cannot say I was overly impressed, particularly when he began to harangue me about the way the paper approached football. “You don’t seem to like the game,” he said.

“The game itself is not a problem,” I retorted. “It’s just that I don’t like some of the people in it.”

That last sentence, more than ever, is applicable to a guy called Sepp Blatter. I trust they will hang him out on a favela clothesline very shortly.

He may be resistant to the threat of a blowtorch, but his dismissal is somewhat overdue.

'IMPARTIAL' BBC ERECTS IRON CURTAIN AROUND GLASGOW'S PACIFIC QUAY

By Mark Cooney

THOMAS JEFFERSON erected the pillars of a democratic society when he stated: ”Our liberty depends on the freedom of the press, and that cannot be limited without being lost.”

Fast forward 200 years and the comment by the third President of the United States is starting to sound profoundly naive on these shores.

The impartiality of a country’s media is a cornerstone of democracy. In the 21st Century, people no longer just seek the truth, they demand it. But in "reporting" news related to the Scottish Referendum vote this September, the BBC and London-owned Scottish newspapers increasingly appear to have adopted the journalistic values of Pravda.

There is a growing rumour (make that growing resentment) in Scotland that the BBC is not impartial. In fact, it looks grossly partial on one specific issue; the Independence Referendum.

I grew up believing that Auntie always told the truth and was fair to both sides of any story. I thought the only narrative it preached was fact. I especially believed it was not aligned to any political agenda or to any cause, other than telling us all how things really are. It was almost ingrained in my mind that the BBC’s mantra was to present the facts and let the adults arrive at their own judgements.

It’s comforting to the human soul to know that someone in this complex world will always tell us the truth. We like to know we are defining our opinions based on cast-iron facts. And we thought they were facts because the BBC said so.

But, together with the Scottish mainstream papers, we are witnessing growing evidence that it is presently trying to control, twist and stifle the debate in favour of a Westminster status quo. With just three months to go to voting day, the BBC has already joined sides with the English State it knows and understands.

To mislead the people of Scotland, England, Northern Ireland and Wales on such a seismic event is unforgivable. Through its blatant strategy of promoting one side of the political spectrum at the expense of the other through selected news reports, biased interviews and the closing down of public comment on its web pages, the BBC has shattered its own fabled impartiality. In Scotland, at least.

The enviously high bar of editorial standards that Auntie once set herself are now so low that not even Mister Fantastic on a soup only diet could limbo under it. Her publicly-funded corset has fallen around her ankles. And that’s more than a bare cheek, it’s public indecency.

Firstly, there is the glaring lack of any real cross-examination of unionist advocates’ statements on news and debate programmes, while in contrast there are very well prepared grillings facing any champion of independence, with questions often designed to wrong foot them.

The BBC’s presenters, particularly Andrew Neil, Jeremy Paxman and Andrew Marr, have been treating independence interviewees as the main "target" on their shows and subjecting them to both barrels. Overly aggressive, dismissive and sneering, they launch a barrage of follow-up questions, often only to be left defeated by a smarter person with a better argument. (Check Referendum-related videos on YouTube and decide for yourself).

There’s even been a sense of shadenfreude from several BBC presenters when they think they’ve got the indie guest pinned on the studio ropes. It’s noticeable and it's unsavoury.

Of course, it's encouraging to see presenters performing with intensity when questioning pro-independence folk. That's what good journalists should be doing. But the contrast in the mild mannered and shallow questioning of unionist politicians’ statements is stark.

Perhaps they could ask the Labour hierarchy why anyone should trust their economic arguments after they alone oversaw the collapse of the UK’s banking sector, which has been attributed to Gordon Brown’s and Alistair Darling’s utter disregard of industry regulation.

Something that stands out on these BBC programmes is the patronising manner in which the presenters and their studio guests from Westminster almost refuse to acknowledge the SNP as the democratically-elected government of Scotland.

It has been chosen by the people of Scotland to run our country in a competent manner and to represent the interests and wishes of ALL its citizens. They’re not just "trying to grab a bit of the limelight" as one barely known Tory minister accused an elected SNP MSP on Question Time.

The BBC is not giving us veritas on BOTH sides of the argument. Indeed, its presentation of the debate is almost beyond satire.

Rather than wake up to the fact the people of Scotland are no longer cozened and publicly redressing the obvious imbalance, the BBC has instead responded to increasing complaints by throwing a tantrum and closing down comments on its Scottish web pages.

These are the actions of our national public broadcaster in the 21st Century. It’s a defensive action that has polluted the waters of editorial transparency. But the BBC’s charge list doesn’t end there.

Think about the membership of the arch unionist business club, the CBI, which has been a registered "No" voter. Think about the dumbing down of Newsnight Scotland in its relaunch as "Scotland 2014". The show is presented by Sarah Smith,  daughter of former Labour leader John Smith and a lady who has deep Labour roots. Should the BBC not, at the very least, be trying to be seen as impartial?

Meanwhile, academics in Scotland have studied the BBC’s news output and noted there were many more unionist-led stories than independence-led, and that unionist claims were given far greater prominence than those on the nationalist side.

A recent major BBC Scottish history programme series was also accused by historians of having a very anglo-centric narrative. 

After, of course, the producers omitted damning evidence of English oppression and barbarity, and a country forced against its will into the Union in 1707 by a small band of Scots nobles who were rewarded with gold and English lands.

Programme advisors, some of whom were eminent historians, distanced themselves from the 10-part series before it was finished. The BBC promoted it as a kind of ultimate guide to Scottish history. But the academics challenged its accuracy, to say the least.

As well as saying it was too anglo-centric, the failure to front it with a historian has also been heavily criticised by professors and the public. Instead, a prepared script by the BBC was given to an archaeologist to narrate. The chosen presenter has also publicly admitted he is pro union. Academic advisers quit before programmes were completed.

Professor Allan Macinnes, of the University of Strathclyde, resigned from the series' advisory board after its first meeting. "I thought the whole production was dreadful," he said. "The first script I got was so anglo-centric I couldn't believe it.

"It was written on the basis as if Scotland was a divided country until the Union came along and civilised it.

"At the time, England was divided, France was divided, Germany didn't even exist. I would like to see a wider European context.”

Why did the BBC ignore the advice of these historians? And why did it not choose a more authoritative figure to present it? Like a historian perhaps?

Does the BBC have any major news anchormen or women, or history programme presenters in Scotland who are not pro union?

And it’s not just the BBC. It has been revealed that the vast majority of Scotland’s daily newspapers also have a strong unionist agenda. Again, impartial is not a word Scots would readily use to describe most of our country’s written press.

Pro-union stories get maximum coverage, with every angle covered to the third degree that it’s almost becoming Monty Pythonesque in its absurdity. The "No" camp can make any nonsensical claim about the effects of independence and its given generous air time and column inches.

A former Labour defence minister makes a fantastical assertion that an independent Scotland will actually lead to the World Order being disrupted, and it immediately becomes headline news. But rather than the claim being thoroughly investigated and then soundly discredited, it was promoted as a serious possibility through large sections of the media.

Well, if the consequences of voting for independence is Peebles being dynamited off the map by an intergalactic terrorist in a Portsmouth-built Death Star, there isn’t much we can do to prove otherwise. It’s just one of those unknown unknowns, as Donald Rumsfeld would have mused.

At the same time, a positive pro independence story, such as a unionist MP saying Scotland would be much better off running its own affairs in its own country, is often challenged by all and sundry, or reduced to a lower ranking news item, or not even published.

In January this year, the BBC Trust found BBC Scotland guilty of having misled the public after a Reporting Scotland item misrepresented an Irish politician in relation to a story on EU membership post-independence.

Raymond Buchanan, who reported the item for the BBC, resigned days before the Trust announced its intention to carry out an investigation.

Despite the guilty verdict, BBC Scotland management refused to apologise and have yet to issue any correction.

There can be no doubt that stories harmful to the "No" campaign are being heavily censored by our media. Positive news for the "Yes" side is being curtailed.

We know this because we all live in the third Millennium these days and can find the facts and stories published elsewhere at the click of a mouse. There’s a world of data out there.

I’d like to tell Auntie that sometimes in Scotland, in clement weather anyway, we pick up interesting stuff on the wireless and telegram. We now even know that three guys in a cramped washing machine landed on the moon in 1969, that there are repeats of Bullseye on the telly and that 95% of other countries in the world are now independent.

Banning public comment on Scottish politics is an anachronism. Why would the BBC want to do anything that would discourage the people, the source of its licence-fees, from letting the national broadcaster know what the nation thinks? Isn’t that anti-news? Is it, dare I say it, bias?

Channel 4’s recent excellent coverage of the Referendum makes the BBC’s immature communication attempts look akin to an episode of Teletubbies - albeit everyone in Teletubbyland is treated as an equal partner.

The BBC, sometimes known as a "national treasure", often boasts about its world renowned image as the purveyor of truth.

Here's an excerpt from its own charter:

"Impartiality lies at the heart of public service and is the core of the BBC's commitment to its audiences.  It applies to all our output and services - television, radio, online, and in our international services and commercial magazines.  We must be inclusive, considering the broad perspective and ensuring the existence of a range of views is appropriately reflected."

On September 18, the people of Scotland will vote on the Referendum question on whether we think Scotland should be independent, like much of Planet Earth.

A DAY TOO FAR: HOW THE HUBRIS OF HOLLYWOOD BURNED FINGERS

TODAY, No Grey Areas introduces another important signing -  one to excite film buffs everywhere.  Brian Hannan is author of The Making of Lawrence of Arabia, The Making of The Guns of Navarone, Hitchcock’s Hollywood Hell, Hitchcock at the Box Office –  all of which are available in print from Amazon and Kindle. In his timely opening blog, he reminds us of how things can go wrong, even for the most famous of Hollywood executives.

IMPORTANT anniversaries have been usurped by marketers.

Accompanying last week’s 70th anniversary remembrance of the D-Day landings was a wide scale revival of The Longest Day, featuring an all-star cast including John Wayne, Robert Mitchum and Sean Connery.

A Glasgow company, Park Circus Films, which is behind all those occasional big-screen showings of old favourites, has been promoting Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan and Samuel Fuller’s The Big Red One, starring Lee Marvin.

More cynically, a 50th anniversary showing of Zulu has been shifted from January (when the film originally premiered in the UK) to June 9 to take advantage of the sentiment surrounding soldiering.

War is partly to blame for what appears now like an incessant rash of movie anniversaries. The first movie to take major advantage of the celebration of a historic military event was Gone With the Wind.

In 1961, to mark the centenary of the beginning of the American Civil War, MGM reissued the Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh classic.

It wasn’t the first time the movie had been reissued. It was the fourth. It had already been re-released in the US in1942, 1947 and 1954, each time sending the public back to the box office in droves.

The gap between showings was based on a Hollywood notion that a new generation of filmgoers popped up once every seven years. The film was a much bigger hit than anyone expected, one of the top ten films of the year at the box office.

Hollywood being that kind of place, everyone wanted to jump onto the reissue bandwagon with exceedingly mixed results. The idea – prevalent nowadays - that a film being ten, 25 or 50 years old was sufficient reason for a box-office rematch lacked marketing heft back in the 1960s.

But there was one significant historical event that could generate exceptional hype – D-Day. The 20th anniversary of D-Day would take place in 1964. There was only one problem. The Darryl F. Zanuck picture The Longest Day had just been released in October 1962.

It was the number three film of the year in America in 1963 and was so successful there, held over so long in the bigger cinemas, it still had not played in hundreds of small theatres.

But Zanuck thought the anniversary too good an opportunity to miss. So he curtailed the film’s release, cancelling contracts for future showings, withdrawing it from cinemas in February 1964.It had been shown in 4,400 cinemas, less than half of the expected final number.

He was not the only one to sniff the lucrative potential of the summer anniversary. One of the three main television networks offered a record $4m for the movie if it could premiere it on June 6.

Zanuck reckoned his movie was worth more and started a massive build-up to anniversary celebrations climaxing in a special showing on June 6 to a select audience of military and civilian leaders as a large-scale reissue got underway.

It was set for major cinemas in New York and Los Angeles. Nearly 500 cinemas, some of which had shown it on initial release, backed Zanuck’s judgement.

The public, it turned out, was not waiting with bated breath. Zanuck had gone a “day too far.” In all his arrogance, he had overlooked three things.

Firstly, a different perspective had been cast on war by Carl Foreman’s grittier The Victors, starring George Peppard and Albert Finney. Secondly, it went head-to-head with another reissue – David Lean’s multi-Oscar-winning Bridge on the River Kwai, which pummelled it at the box office.

Thirdly, the American public saw the tub-thumping for what it was – marketing hype. In one of Hollywood’s most catastrophic misjudgements – file under “hubris” – a film that was racing ahead of the box office pack trailed home with its tail between its legs.

The reissue barely grossed $2m, half of the box office of The Victors and Bridge on the River Kwai.

Strangely enough, that did not stop Fox taking another punt at a reissue in 1969, the 25th anniversary of D-Day, where, even more curiously, it brought in far better returns.

CORRUPTION & AK-47s: FIFA MUST RIGHT ITS WRONGS

BY BEN PALMER

The last two World Cups are the only ones that I can realistically remember.

In 2002, I was only 6, my memory limited. For some reason though, I can still remember a fresh faced Brazilian kid lobbing David Seaman. That’s another matter, however.

The Adidas Teamgeist ball is my fondest memory of 2006 and my first real World Cup memory. The ball that only had 14 panels – for a 10-year-old it was captivating, it’s just a pity I couldn’t play with it!

The South African tournament will be remembered due to those Vuvuzela’s, or “Bloody Vuvuzela’s” as they were known to the majority of the public. The nauseating noise was loathed by all, but it spawned an atmosphere that will never be forgotten.

These proverbial heirlooms of the World Cup ancestry were well documented in the build-up of each tournament, so do we really want to be remembering AK-47s in the approach to Russia 2018?

Brazilian authorities have announced that there will be 157,000 police and soldiers providing security at the event – a quick Google search of “Brazilian Police” shows that the general consensus of Brazilian uniform isn’t exactly reassuring.

Officers attired in black bulletproof suits, with automatic rifles as an accessory; the epitome of safety!

Just days away from the opening ceremony of the first Brazilian World Cup since 1950, and there’s a larger sense of anxiety rather than excitement. The nation's Government, led by Dilma Rousseff, is under-fire for blowing $11 Billion on the tournament - $62 Million per game despite a near 20% poverty rate.

We’re looking at a World Cup which will be hindered by an indisputable sense of injustice. Murals being painted all over the country's Favela’s convey just how the nation’s backbone views the hosting of the tournament: it’s a nuisance, unnecessary and downright stupid.

There is no going back now though, so surely FIFA can learn from its mistakes? Surely the ruling body of the most popular sport on the planet can see the pain it is causing? Surely then, Qatar must be scrapped?

Russia’s turn, however, comes before Qatar and the 2018 event is in doubt also, with England being viewed as the potential back-up should the Russian attempt fail.

FIFA can set a precedent now. Revelations last week show that the Qatari World Cup was indeed “bought,” so surely FIFA can right a wrong?

In 2026, countries from the Americas can host again – do we want to be going into it with a legacy of corrupt money having been the foundations of our last World Cup?

The youth of today need to know the World Cup for its animation: the wonder-goals, the overly scientific footballs, the cultures of countries, not the negativities which look set to swamp the 21^st century incarnations.

Qatar didn’t even bend over backwards to host the World Cup, they entered their pin number. Now it is up to FIFA to reverse this monstrous transaction.

MAKING A DOG'S BREAKFAST OF MOTORWAY MENUS

BY JIM BLACK

NEVER mind who killed Cock Robin. Forget about who framed Roger Rabbit. What I want to know is who is responsible for the disappearance of Little Chef?

The perpetrator of this ghastly crime should be hanged, drawn and quartered.

Where once Little Chef could be seen adorning the frontage of prefabricated buildings serving as enticing eating places for the weary traveller, from John O’Groats to Lands End, now stands monuments to the 21^st Century’s new age of fast food joints and coffee houses.

Having recently completed the near 1,200 mile return journey from Inverness to London I confess to having lost the will to live at various moments in my quest to find an establishment that actually serves good, wholesome food – the sort that leaves you with a feeling of contentment.

The early starter, the all day breakfast, the Olympic breakfast, sausage and mash, pie of the day; all have been replaced by tasteless burgers, supermarket fodder for food luvvies and pre-packed sandwiches full of disgusting concoctions ranging from ham, mayonnaise and dill to egg with cress and cold crispy bacon and sausage. I wouldn’t feed most of it to a starving dog for fear of offending the animal’s taste buds!

We are assured by Alex Salmond’s rapidly expanding food police that such offerings are far healthier than a traditional fry-up. Maybe, but I would prefer to be given the choice between eating a meal that satisfies certain cravings when you are driving hour after hour than one that tastes like it’s been made from sawdust and pigeon droppings.

Not that I appear to have much say in the matter, judging by my experience of trying to find desirable sustenance on Britain’s motorway network.

Just for a moment I thought I had cracked it on the journey south when I spotted a sign informing that I was approaching a Road Chef at the Sandbach Services in Cheshire. Not so.

Road Chef would seem to me to imply exactly that, food prepared by a chef or chefs. Instead, when I enquired as to exactly where this facility was located in the complex I was informed by the young lady serving behind the Costa Coffee counter that I had a choice of her establishment or McDonalds. Not wishing to dine on packets of biscuits, slabs of cake or cardboard Panini, I opted for a Big Mac.

To be fair, choice is not limited to Costa or McDonalds. For those who wish to turn their comfort break into a shopping expedition, there is also the choice of Waitrose or M&S at some service areas.

Do me a favour. What are you supposed to do; purchase a loaf of bread, a packet of ham, a jar of coffee, a pint of milk and a set of cutlery? Evening officer, the reason I’ve parked up on the hard shoulder is to prepare my evening meal. You don’t happen to have a kitchen table and a kettle on you, by any chance?

I could go on listing my many complaints, but what’s the point? Little Chef is almost no more and we’re stuck with sub-standard alternatives.

But there is at least one bastion of good, old fashioned cooking – The Ballinluig Services in the Perthshire village of the same name, just off the A9, where they serve traditional grub.

And while I am on the subject of traditional food, why the hell can you no longer seem to get a roll and ham or a plain egg roll without any of the other gunge included? I’m sure the Ballinluig Services do them, so why do other outlets simply refuse to cater for those of us who enjoy their food plain and simple?

No, don’t bother replying as I have neither the will nor the patience to listen to some sort of cack handed explanation about nutritional values.

Just so long as the Ballinluig Services continue to flourish there remains a glimmer of hope and a refuge from the average speed cameras the SNP’s appallingly arrogant and self important Minister for Transport Keith Brown assures us will make the A9 a safer track.

But that’s another rant for another day.

EXPLOITATION AT THE RYDER CUP: CALLING MR ALEX SALMOND

BY BRYAN COONEY

IT’S possibly injudicious to write about your relatives on a public platform such as this, but lack of judgment seems to form a stout branch of the family tree, so here goes.

Today, I ’m concentrating on what I consider to be exploitation, and also the autumnal madness of my Chicago-based brother- in-law.

Alejandro Gonzales, aka Alex, is a volunteer (one of around 1,800, or so) for this year’s Ryder Cup in September. I’m still wondering whether he has forfeited his wits.

But, before highlighting the plight of the less than privileged key workers at Gleneagles, it’s necessary to paint a picture of a rather incredible and impressive man who, it must be stated, has not uttered one single word of complaint about what’s ahead of him.

At 82 years of age, Alex is a former oil company executive who declares himself quite captivated by the game of golf. As a player, he’s Mr Average in that he’ll never be a reincarnation of Lee Trevino but, there again, he will assuredly never witness the indignity of the number 24 attached to his handicap.

He takes his allegiance to the sport further by dedicating some of his leisure time to the professional game: he’s been a steward at two Ryder Cups, a US Open and quite a few other big tournaments. It allows him, he says, to be close to his heroes. You cannot curb enthusiasm like that, it seems.

But now it’s time to study the exploitative nature of this year’s biennial bun fight between Europe and America. We’ll vote for fairness and start with the one perk afforded volunteers. Most of them work a four-hour shift - and then are permitted to watch the proceedings in their downtime. Now, ain’t that cute?

But prepare yourselves for the negatives. Firstly, workers are expected to pay in the order of £65-70 for their uniforms, which comprise a windcheater, polo shirt and cap.

Surely they are remunerated in other ways? A daily wage, for instance? Er, not so as you would notice. Other than a £15 daily voucher for food and drink, they won’t receive a hillock of beans, far less a hill, for their efforts. Neither, it‘s claimed, are they given an allowance for travelling to Perthshire.

While we’re at it, let’s count the ancillary costs of being a volunteer. Whilst the panjandrums of the competition are firmly ensconced in the luxury of Gleneagles - no doubt contemplating the millions of pounds of profit - the worker ants must scurry around finding their own accommodation. Again, they must pay for this themselves.

To ease this potential burden, Alex originally considered staying at a hotel in nearby Crieff, but was deterred by the prohibitive cost of £200 a night. So, he will stay in Glasgow at approximately £60 a night and make a daily 100-mile round trip in order to perform his duties in the merchandising marquee. Remember, we’re talking about an octogenarian here.

Overall, the cost to his pocket will be equally disturbing: at a conservative estimate, his trip from America will cost him two or three thousand pounds, possibly more.

Now, let me underline again that my brother-in-law’s lips are sealed against recrimination. When I say that the organisers are taking an almighty liberty with willing hands, Alex prefers diplomacy.

“It doesn’t bother me, fortunately,” he responds. “I’m retired and in a (financial) position to do it. Hey, I’m still blessed with the memory of Medinah. Now that came as a complete surprise.

“I’ll always remember that the Europeans were so happy - meanwhile I think the Americans took it in their stride: I didn’t see any confrontations. I don’t think we’ll ever see another ending like that one.”

Alex is not getting off that easily, though. I press him again for a reaction and am rewarded with a token victory. “Oh, I suppose I’d like to see some additional benes (benefits) for the volunteers. We do work hard and try to make it as smooth as possible.”

So what benes would be acceptable? “Oh, okay, the ball swings towards the Ryder Cup group as far as being able to take advantage of myself and others. But, hey, by the same token, if I weren’t there, it would be very easy to fill my shoes. I understand 18,000 people volunteered. That gives you an idea how many people out there want to do this.”

That may be so, but who expects a man to work for nothing in this age of corporate activity and insatiable greed? It is exploitation by any name you can conjure.

There are no firm figures regarding what the European Tour as organisers expect to make from this year’s competition, but I do know that, back in 2006, the K Club in Dublin is said to have cleared £10million after the taxman had deliberated.

They say Gleneagles will generate £100million, so you can take that as around £20 million of clear profit.

Wouldn’t it be nice if each and every one of those volunteers from all over the world went back home with a small but well-earned bonus. Plus a pleasant memory of their time in Scotland?

I’m no actuary, but my instant calculations say it would take just over one and a quarter million pounds to do that. Small potatoes, indeed, considering the crop.

Now, I understand the Scottish Government was highly instrumental in bringing the competition back to Scotland. Perhaps another Alex - the one called Salmond, can supply a rescue package.

Mr Salmond positively thrives on being seen and heard at big events; I also imagine he believes in fairness. What a chance for him to flourish his true mettle.

He could step in and demand justice for the underprivileged of Ryder Cup golf. Surely, it's not beyond him in this year of destiny?

LAWWELL MAY FOLLOW LENNON OUT OF PARKHEAD

BY ANDY RITCHIE

I WAS spot on when I was the first to reveal that Neil Lennon would be leaving Celtic.

Followers of No Grey Areas were tipped off weeks ago that Lennon was poised to quit. Now I believe a second high profile figure may soon follow Lennon out of Celtic Park – chief executive Peter Lawwell.

The majority shareholder Dermot Desmond wants Roy Keane as Lennon’s successor and I believe that could hasten Lawwell’s departure.

Why do I think that? My gut instinct is that Keane wouldn’t be Lawwell’s preferred choice. Keane doesn’t strike me as the sort who is prepared to compromise and take instructions. I also get the distinct impression that when he sets his mind on doing something, he’s unshakable.

Lennon was Lawwell’s man. Keane is Desmond’s and I suspect there would be an inevitable clash of personalities.

It’s no secret either that Lawwell has been touting himself for high-powered chief executives roles with Premiership clubs. He was keen on the Arsenal job and there have been one or two others.

So, watch this space, and remember who told you first when there are further changes at the top at Celtic.

To be honest, I do think Lawwell really wanted to do more to try to persuade Lennon to stay. I believe he had already made his mind up that next season would be Lennon’s last and it suited him when the manager announced he was quitting.

No great effort was made to persuade Johan Mjallby to stay and it was made clear that other changes were required in the coaching staff, including Garry Parker leaving.

I reckon Lawwell thought the treble was a gimme, given how little pressure there is on Celtic at the moment domestically.

Lawwell expected a clean sweep of honours and losing to Morton in the League Cup and going out of the Scottish Cup to Aberdeen constituted major disappointments.

So, no great effort was made to keep Lennon. Significantly, there has been no gnashing of teeth or wailing from within in the wake of the announcement.

At least that was the feeling I got and I am sure Lennon read all the signs and reacted accordingly.

But if he’s honest with himself, he’ll probably reflect that he should have acted sooner when his stock was at its highest in the wake of Celtic beating Barcelona and qualifying for the last 16 in the Champions League.

If Keane does get the job I expect he’ll shake the place up and the fact that there are no credible challengers to Celtic’s dominance in the SPFL and Rangers are still stumbling around in the wilderness would probably make the transition fairly straightforward.

But while Desmond would be quite happy to see Keane in charge, I don’t think Lawwell would share that feeling.

Lennon was Lawwell’s man and he had to put up with a lot. Keane does not fit into the same category, in my opinion.

But, let’s be perfectly frank, the Honey Monster could move into the Celtic dug-out at the moment and be expected to win the treble.

But,  judging by their initial reaction to the news, whether the fans feel the same way about Keane is a different matter entirely.

IAN BROADLEY: AN APPRECIATION OF A FINE JOURNALIST

BY JIM BLACK

SCOTTISH sports journalism has lost one of its few remaining characters following Ian Broadley’s sudden death at his home in Aberdeen. He was 72.

Ian, from Dumbarton, was a newspaper man of 50 years standing and, during his time as the Herald’s golf writer, reported on all four major championships as well as the leading European Tour events and local championships.

He was also employed by the Daily Record in Glasgow and the north east as a football writer for more than 20 years after graduating from local newspapers to the news desk of the Scottish Daily Express in the early 1960s.

Immediately prior to joining the Herald, Ian also worked for the ill-fated Sunday Scot newspaper, which closed after just a few months. In more recent years he operated as a freelance sportswriter in his adopted city of Aberdeen, reporting on the Dons for several national newspapers.

During his long and distinguished career, Ian covered Aberdeen’s most successful years under Sir Alex Ferguson and, prior to that, Eddie Turnbull and Billy McNeill.

Know as “Bonesy” or “Broads” to his closest colleagues, Ian was a larger than life character famous for his fiery temperament which brought him into conflict with football players, managers, golfers and colleagues in equal measure. Mercifully, his bark was often worse than his bite and underneath his at times gruff exterior beat a generous heart.

Ian never minded putting himself out to accommodate colleagues visiting Aberdeen and enjoyed sharing a drink and exchanging stories with them. But woe be tide those who crossed him. They were not easily forgiven, if Ian believed he was the victim of injustice.

A man with strong principals, Ian’s spats with various football managers are the stuff of legend and earned him the respect of his colleagues and those involved in the game.

He was once famously challenged by the then Aberdeen manager Eddie Turnbull to settle their differences behind Gleneagles Hotel on the eve of the 1967 Scottish Cup final. There is no record of blows being thrown, but the incident highlighted Ian’s refusal to bow down to those in authority if he felt he had been wronged.

Sir Alex Ferguson recalled: “I had many arguments with him over the years but I could never get angry. I never fell out with him which says a lot when you consider my battles with the press.”

A talented golfer himself with a low single figure handicap at his peak, Ian was a member of Murcar Golf Club.

Paul Lawrie, the former Open champion, said: “I have known Ian for a number of years. He covered golf quite a bit when I first went to America after winning the Open and I got to know him.

“He also played golf at Deeside, where I play with my boys when I am at home, and I used to see him out playing in the evenings. He was a good journalist for a long time so we will miss him.”

Always good company and a man of wit and a rare ability to laugh at himself, Ian was a member of both the Association of Golf Writers and the Scottish Football Writers’ Association.

He had genuine warmth and he was a loyal and supportive colleague and friend, and in an age when new technology has replaced many of the previous working practices, he remained an old school type of reporter with the ability to ask the right questions and elicit a response.

Ian will be sorely missed by all those who knew him. He is survived by his widow Margaret and his sons John and Gavin.