Thurles last Sunday. One new discovery. A vaccine. When the terrible pandemics look set to engulf us, someone always mixes a potion before apocalypse.

Sport 2 (Hawking, Cent) Rest of the World 1 (Barton OG)

It has been a rough couple of weeks with the pollen. It was the hay fever, we now know, that drove John Inverdale to his ‘sexist lapse’ at last year’s Wimbledon.

Say hello and wave goodbye to winners?

In these confusing times, R&B crooner Ne-Yo most likely thinks of Manchester City whenever he delivers the line: "How can something that feels so right be so wrong?"

It was a poor week for the racists. But another maligned bunch — the PR gurus — have had worse.

A certain symmetry. The man who went before — Big Ron — met Alex Ferguson in autumn of 1986 and found him strangely distant. Soon after, the rumours Ron had heard proved correct.

“This does not fucking slip now.” Steven Gerrard’s huddle — the inspirational moment that will define an unlikely triumph? Or an ominous poke from the finger of fear?

A mixed week at the upper echelons of the bullshit trade. We lost one of the greats. It says much about the business The Ultimate Warrior was involved in that many people took time to be convinced he was really dead and that the announcement wasn’t a stunt.

There is the poor old divil who can’t travel to the matches. You would have a certain sympathy for him and her, in fairness, but the enthusiasm with which RTÉ went into bat for them this week, didn’t ring entirely true.