Let's have mayhem and Mick

At last the World Cup is providing some authentic excitement. There have been some fascinating group games, but this is above all a knockout competition. We don't really want teams to live to fight another day. We want the mayhem of sudden death.

To serve up this rich feast, the BBC chose Barry Davies and Joe Royle. Joe was a good, honest centre-forward, but I don't understand his microphone credentials. I have listened to his curiously flat patter quite a lot and he has yet to make a point of any wit or substance, never mind enliven the proceeding with a well-timed joke.

Barry, on the other hand, I have a lot of time for. Like Motty, although perhaps not quite to the same crazed extent, he has a knack for noticing the small details which turn football into a rivetting spectacle. Yesterday, he calmly informed us that it looked as if the referee had not found time to shave. This thought stayed with me throughout the match between the Republic of Ireland and Spain, which was not short of its own attractions.

What had the referee been up to? Was it a monumental blunder - unlikely as he handled the game very well - or was this the return of designer stubble? I trust Barry will keep us informed.

The day before, we were treated to the first signs of studio animation as England knocked the stuffing out of Denmark.

Gazza, clad in a quite ludicrous shirt, was foremost among the celebrants, but dear old Bobby Robson was also highly chuffed. With his kind face, big smile and lovely senior citizen's hair, it is easy to overlook the fact that Sir Bobby, like Gazza, is a merciless torturer of the English language. He rather puts me in mind of the late Stanley Unwin.

Perhaps the television moment of the tournament so far was the split-screen technique used for the taking of Ireland's second penalty. The look on the faces of a group of Irish fans was an extraordinary amalgam of fevered anticipation and gutclenching trepidation.