NOTHING to do with the arrival of Spring, but my body heat has been steadily rising this week to the point where I had to fall back on disbelieving laughter to prevent my blood boiling.
It began gently enough on Monday with the news that a professor at York University had discovered that Newcastle fans were the fourth most tuneful in the land.
Those of us advancing into the cantankerous years want to know for what earthly reason such research is carried out and why, for heaven's sake, should Barclaycard wish to finance it?
A Barclaycard spokesman said: "It's fascinating to find out which fans are the best singers, but the quality of the singing is not necessarily reflected by results on the pitch."
This is utter garbage. It is not fascinating at all, and you or I could have confidently predicted the second part of his statement without recourse to expensive research by a university boffin.
Then came more revelations on Tuesday, this time from researchers at Northumbria University, who found that players' testosterone levels were higher at home games.
The boffins believe this suggests humans, like animals, will fiercely defend home territory. Well, stone the crows, whoever would have believed it?
The biological psychologist responsible for all this tries to justify his work by suggesting that hormone levels should be increased in some players and reduced in others.
One footballer who clearly should have had his testosterone level reduced before running on to any pitch, home or away, was the appalling Ian Wright.
Yet on Wednesday I really was thinking of auditioning for the part of Victor Meldrew when Wright was named as one of the "celebrities" involved in a £2m drive to promote pride in the North-East.
This is an outrage and a scandal, and can be greeted only with howls of laughter in order to prevent a fit of apoplectic rage.
Even without Wright's involvement, spending millions on a project known as Here.Now strikes me as a ludicrous waste of money by people who think branding makes the world go round.
They'd be better off spending the cash on giving everyone in the North-East an extra shot of testosterone.
BRAMALL Lane must have been awash with the male hormone last Saturday, when Sheffield United had three men sent off against West Brom.
Apparently it was only because the referee wanted to keep the game going that they weren't joined by Keith Curle, a player from the Ian Wright stable of self-control.
But the unfortunate Eddie Wolstenholme had no option but to abandon it when the Blades started falling down, bringing the predictable claim and counter-claim about feigning injuries.
At least the Blades' boss, Neil Warnock, had to good grace to admit that West Brom should be given the points. Or perhaps he was just covering his back in case cash-strapped United had ten points deducted and were plunged into a relegation battle.
I WONDER what odds an Indian bookie would have given on three of the four fastest Test double centuries being scored in the space of three weeks?
Test cricket as we know it has suddenly vanished. It has been transformed into testosterone-fuelled gladiatorial combat which must be a branding man's dream. He could even sell it to the Yanks, labelled: Crash, Bang, Cricket - a game for the way we live today.
In a world where we seek the instant gratification offered by Gameboys, attendances at five-day cricket matches have been declining in the far-flung corners of the world such as New Zealand.
Perhaps they have found the answer through a pitch grown in a tray, and it will be interesting to see if this catches on, prompting a proliferation of dual-purpose stadiums which can stage football or rugby then have a cricket pitch dropped in.
While the pace and even bounce offered by the Christchurch pitch, not to mention the short boundaries, encouraged strokeplay, it is equally certain that the rapid advance in one-day techniques has now rendered the five-day Test almost redundant.
But batsmen still have to learn their craft, including defence, before they can go out and play like Nathan Astle, and it strikes me as very odd that England should fly 19-year-old Warwickshire batsman Ian Bell out to New Zealand.
As he had only just returned home from spending the winter Down Under with the England Academy, he can have little idea of what time of day it is, and there was no chance of him getting a game with Craig White and Usman Afzaal already waiting to step in for Mark Butcher.
Getting a taste of the Test match atmosphere is all very well, but Durham have taken the more sensible approach in allowing Bell's England Under 19 colleague Nicky Peng a two-week rest instead of taking him on their tour to Cape Town.
PEOPLE keep asking me what I think about David Byas joining Lancashire. The only observation worth making is that it shows what a pickle Lancashire are in.
Published: Friday, March 22, 2002
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