Not tonight, Garth

There has been some awful stuff on the box this week. If it has not been talk of 'reality checks' and 'wake-up calls' it has been the regular use of the first person plural, which is inexcusable. Any 'expert' who says 'we' or 'us', meaning England or Ireland, should be dismissed on the spot.

Then there is the allmatestogether clubiness. 'We'll be back after the break with Bobby, Terry and Gazza,' says Des. Come on, man, these jugs have handles. Use them. Lynam's best days, alas, are all in the past. He won't ask hard questions and he's not particularly interested in the answers. It's time for the shepherd's crook.

Whether the Logan gel is up to the job of succeeding him is another matter. She's good to look at and bright, but the pervasive mediocrity of football drags her down.

You're not allowed to be bright in football. Stupidity is the only currency that anybody in the game values. The footballer who tries to talk sensibly does so at the risk of getting 'a ribbing from the lads'. Bugger the lads. What about the viewers - or aren't they important?

For instance, when Ms Yorathvox-Logan was talking to McCoist and Robbie Earle after Argentina's departure, the tone was one of general silliness. McCoist is not a stupid man, and Earle appears to have half a brain, so why not stretch them? They might even say something intelligent.

Paul Gascoigne will never say anything intelligent. In fact, he may never say anything intelligible. He cuts a sad, pitiable figure in the studio and also in those wretched pops that are intended to introduce light relief but which render him helpless. Even an alcoholic wife-beater deserves better.

At one stage, as this confused, socially inadequate man- child struggled to find words to answer the gentlest of enquiries, it seemed he might evaporate before our very eyes. He faces a long, painful retirement and needs assistance, not the indulgence of a publicity-seeking TV producer. Get him off, now, for his own good.

So who has shown any form? Alan Hansen. He has a forensic intelligence and is prepared to swim against the tide. O'Neill makes a good companion and Gary Lineker is giving Lynam a shoeing. Personable and modest - and apparently quite a good player in his day - Lineker has improved ten-fold. You want to like him and, on the whole, you do.

Venables and Bobby Robson, when they are together, can shed light on a subject. Robson is so manifestly decent that one always warms to him, which helps to take the mind off Venables, who, you feel, keeps seven watches up his sleeve.

The best commentator, miles better than John Motson, is Barry Davies, who has a wide vocabulary and who has always given the impression that there is a world beyond football. Naturally, those qualities have counted against him in his BBC career while Motson, with all his pages of pre-assembled notes, has prospered.

The best partnership, though, brought together Jon Champion ('The Wonder Horse') and Graham Taylor. It helped that the Spain-South Africa match was a good one but Champion's understated commentary, supported by Taylor's sympathetic summary, enhanced one's enjoyment.

Taylor is an intelligent, rounded man and towers above the likes of Venables, though that isn't hard. He speaks in complete, properly constructed sentences, avoids the hackneyed and the exaggerated, and generally sounds like a member of the human race. Would some kind soul nudge Ron 'tournyment' Atkinson in his direction?

As for Crooks, it's a hopeless cause. But please keep him on. When England come home, viewers will need a bit of levity.

'Tell me, Harold, you came to Hastings in excellent form. The Normans were there for the taking.

'Do you think their archers were offside?'