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Watching too much football on the television can do funny things to you. Sitting here, watching France trying desperately to batter down the Togolese defence, my mind turned (yet again) to the commentators of days gone by. This time, Gerald Sinstadt. He was of the old school – physically, there was something of the Alan Whicker about him – and was what one would describe as a stalwart of the television screen. Rarely actually seen, he worked for Granada in the north-west and TVS, down here on the south coast, before seeing out his days at the BBC. Not a bad way to spend one’s Indian summer, I think you’ll agree. What I did find out (which caused a curious mixture if near hilarity and extreme disappointment) is that it is widely believed that he was caught knocking one out in a mucky cinema at some point. I now, obviously, desperately need clarification of whether this actually happened or not.

But I digress. My thoughts quickly turned, as they are wont to do, back to The Gubba (cf: previous posts on this blog). Who would win in a fight between them? Now, I’m more than happy to email the BBC and request Inter-Commentator Deathfights (it would fit quite tidily into BBC3’s schedule), but I’m not over-optimistic that they’ll go for it, so we’ll have to go with a Googlefight instead. The result? I AM GUBBA, HEAR ME ROAR. An absolute thrashing. Back to the cinema with you, Gerald.

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