Blowing the whistle on Willie and the opera

IN AN age when all concerned with the game of rugby union are preoccupied with obtaining bigger bucks for their rucks and more moolah for their mauls, it is odd that the game still has a pretty low profile on television, which directly or indirectly will be the source of the funds the clubs are so keen to spend. Apart from international coverage, it is just Rugby Special (BBC 2) and Sky's The Rugby Club.

One of these programmes has snazzed-up graphics, clever-clever headlines and lightweight "features" - all the irritating form-over-content paraphernalia of the magazine programme. Which one? Rugby Special, produced for the BBC by Chrysalis.

Under all the glitz is a perfectly competent programme. John Inverdale has completed the tricky transition from radio to television without trimming his eyebrows, which must make reading the Autocue frightfully difficult. But, eyebrows aside, his face fits: handsome and slightly bashed-up, in the finest Carling/Andrew tradition.

You're not going to catch me making any cracks about the facial characteristics of "Big Norm" Hadley, the programme's resident pundit. Let's just say he looks like a medium-sized apartment block in a suit, and leave his boat race out of it.

Plaudits to the programme for completing a report on the England women's team's training session at an army assault course without any cheap jibes, and for showing footage of the women's international that finished shortly before the show was broadcast. But a yellow card for including a strangely costumed individual named Willie the Whistle in a feature on referee recruitment.

Apparently the game is short of about 15,000 whistle-blowers, which makes you wonder why the RFU have spent good money on a berk in a Latex suit when what they really should have been shelling out on is some punchy advertising, like the present Territorial Army campaign. You know: "Mud. Rain. Constant personal abuse. And a natty pair of shorts. It's a great life as an RFU referee." They could get the twits who designed the Rugby Special credits to do the graphics.

The Rugby Club is positively Reithian by comparison. David Bobin, the host, bears a statesmanlike resemblance to Ronald Reagan circa Bedtime for Bonzo. Sadly, the staid presentation style is but a cover for the rottweiler reporting techniques of the programme's hacks.

Graham Simmonds was the chief offender, steadfastly refusing to let the facts get in the way of a good story. His brief was "Rob Andrew returns to the England team". His problem was that Andrew, shown happily fondling a prone Newcastle player in a proprietorial manner, had no intention of pulling on an England shirt again. "I've made the decision to retire from international rugby," he declared. "And I'm going to stick to it."

Simmonds persisted. "So the bottom line is: 'That's it. I'm retired. Finished'?" Andrew nodded firm assent. Simmonds smelt an opening. "You're nodding your head," he perceptively observed. "Is that a yes?" Andrew side-stepped. "I thought we were going to talk about Harlequins." Simmonds pounced. "So it's not a definitive, bottom-line no?" Yes it was. "No," Andrew said, as if speaking to a small child, "I'm not available for England." But Simmonds would not be denied. "At the moment," he insisted.

Having failed to achieve his aim through cross-examination, Simmonds proceeded to a spot of character assassination. "When Rob's in one of his mischievous moods," he chuckled, giving the impression that Andrew and he were old muckers, "you never know whether he's just being a tease, or whether he's being dead serious." And then he added: "A bit like the Princess of Wales, really." Rugby, eh? Better get Di in somewhere, eh? Phwoar.

Just as there is no connection between the Princess of Wales and Rob Andrew, so there is precious little to link Jeremy Guscott and opera. But this has not prevented the BBC from recruiting the England centre as front-man for their new series Top Score.

The programme seeks to convince young people that opera must be fun because it is just like sport. "That's the state of play here," the Covent Garden stage manager told Guscott, "just before kick-off." During the interval - sorry, half-time - a scene change, described in the manner of a rugby match: "The props are going quickly - there's no stopping this crew, they're keeping their momentum like the true champions they are." Top Score has a bright future, as long as it steers clear of any actual singing.

That's enough rugby. How about some snooker? Davis v McManus was a cracker, two players at the top of their form trading frames like punches. As the match reached its climax, though, the BBC ended their coverage, to bring us - no, not a news flash - an ancient episode of The Munsters. "More coverage of the snooker at 11.50pm." Is it any wonder that sports are queueing up for satellite coverage?