Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

"Knowledge," said on Friday "is knowing a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad."

God only knows what ends up in the fruit salads of Phil Vickery and Danny Care - brussels sprouts? Segments of Terry's Chocolate Orange? - but they were strangers to both wit and wisdom during Ireland's 14-13 victory over England at on Saturday.

Vickery is a man with 71 England caps to his name, yet he still fails to grasp that when a referee warns you not to bind on your opponent's arm, it's probably best not to bind on your opponent's arm at the very next scrum. Such stupidity leads only one way: to the sin bin.

Read the rest of this entry

Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ Sport, Dublin

It was probably the most naive question anyone has asked since Gordon Brown inquired of , "this Β£693,000-a-year pension of yours - any chance of you giving some of it up?"

"Do you," I had asked, "have any sympathy for England rugby fans at the moment?" Funnily enough, none of the Ireland fans present did. "Stupid question," replied a couple of chaps from Cork. "Why would we have any sympathy for you?" replied another.

I wasn't entirely sure why I'd asked the question in the first place, and it was only after a spot of soul-searching that I had to conclude that it rather betrayed an inbuilt sense of English superiority on my part.

Read the rest of this entry

In 1962, the psychiatrist Louis Jolyon West and his colleague at the University of Oklahoma, Chester M Pierce, decided to inject with 297mg of the hallucinogenic drug LSD. Simply, it would seem, to see what might happen.

"Five minutes after the injection, he trumpeted, collapsed, fell heavily on to his right side, and went into status epilepticus," noted the scientists in their research paper. "It appears that the elephant is highly sensitive to the effects of LSD."

I was reminded of this rather unsavoury chapter in while watching flounder about in the first half of on Saturday.

Read the rest of this entry

When multi major-winning golfers retire, no-one feels the need to discuss whether they were 'great'. They went toe-to-toe with the best, week in, week out, year after year. They imposed their will on the biggest stage. Of course was 'great'. The only pertinent question is: 'how great?'

Greater than . There are facts to prove it. Faldo won six majors to Montgomerie's none. Faldo glowed like a rod of iron in the heat of battle, while Montgomerie so often wilted.

But greatness is more difficult to quantify in boxing than in other sports. So many imponderables, so many unanswerables. Too many 'ifs' and 'buts'.

Read the rest of this entry