Getting to the bottom of it all

Austin Deasy (FG, Waterford) had a point, you know. Take yesterday afternoon, for example. Once the darning was done, the flower-arranging complete and the 4,000-piece jigsaw of a kitchen sink re-assembled what telly choices had the "poor women of Ireland"?

RTE1 was showing that seminal movie, Carry on Dick (no Austin, no) and ITV and BBC1 had the omnibus editions of Coronation Street and Eastenders (and we'd already seen them - if Alma takes that louser Baldwin back the "poor women" of this planet should post a scud missile to the scriptwriters).

Meanwhile Channel Four was treating us to a new production of Debussy's Pelleas et Melisande (lovely, but God, there's a time and place for culture and Sunday afternoon telly isn't it). After that it was sport, sport and more bloody sport. But no snooker. "Women tell me that quite a lot of them enjoy snooker and have a particular affinity for studying the backsides of some of the world's famous snooker players," revealed Austin last week.

Now, one can only assume that neither Austin nor the women whose opinions he allegedly canvassed ever laid eyes on Bill Werbeniuk's backside. I did, when it was on the prowl many years back, and I haven't been right since. Turned me right off snooker. Not even Alex Higgins's modestly proportioned lower cheeks could de-traumatise me. The sight did, however, prompt me to invest in a wide-screen telly, so I'd at least be able to see a bit of the green baize around the edges of Big Bill's bottom. But then Steve Davis's behind popped up on the screen and frankly, Austin, no, no. . . I'll say nothing. Fortunately, though, for the "poor women of Ireland", it's the off-season in snooker, so what other telly options had they yesterday?

Hurling. Wey hey, forget snooker Austin - hurling offers us lassies 30 (count 'em) bottoms to peruse (although sometimes an over-fussy referee reduces the number on view to 26 or 27).

Admittedly, Michael Lyster warned us that there might be "skin and hair flying" in the clash between Tipperary and Clare, which suggested that a seat in front of Network Two yesterday afternoon might be no place for a lady.

"Both teams are tuned to the hilt," promised Cyril Farrell. And they were too. Just a bit. "Playing Tipperary, there'll always be an appetite in Clare," said Clare selector Tony Considine, talking to RTE's Ciaran Mullooly before the game. And you didn't doubt him.

In fact, at that moment, you could quite easily picture 15 Clare men tucking into a plate of 15 Tipperary men, accompanied by a Nicky English side salad and a drop of Clonmel Claret. No need for a post-meal Alka Seltzer either, they'd digest with ease. Is there a rivalry between Tipp and Clare, or what?

Funny, after a couple of minutes of the game the "poor women of Ireland" stopped channel hopping, desperately seeking Delia or Darina, forgot all about bottoms and began absorbing an exhilarating contest between two teams so fired up you could feel the tension in your own living room. It was wonderful, epic stuff. And what a climax. When Clare goalkeeper David Fitzgerald buried a 71st-minute penalty to level the match and force a replay we knew Clare full back Brian Lohan wasn't hurting any more.

Lohan was the star of Friday's Breaking Ball on Network Two, which filmed him fine-tuning his control and first touch in the handball alley of the comprehensive school in Shannon. "I'd say between every one of the counties in Munster there's a huge rivalry and when you do beat someone you enjoy it - in the same way that when you lose it, it. . ." His voice trailed off and REM's Every- body Hurts began wafting from the telly. "Are you still rolling?" asked Brian. They were. "I was going to say it `hurts' but we can't say that, full backs don't say `hurt"'. Take two. "And when you lose, it. . . isn't very pleasant," he said, with a grin. (One suspects this particular full back would have hurt quite a bit if Davie Fitz hadn't converted that penalty, but we'll allow him "isn't very pleasant" - hurling legends can say whatever they damn well like).

By now the "poor women of Ireland" were gasping for more sporting thrills - and we found some on BBC2; the men's French Open tennis final. Just as Tipp and Clare were commencing battle, Andre Agassi was two sets down to Andrei Medvedev. We'd given up on him as a bad job. Miserable final, straight sets win for the Ukranian. Yawn.

But once we'd finished nodding in agreement at Ger Loughnane's post-match version of events in Cork ("breathtaking stuff") we returned to the Beeb to discover Agassi was serving for the match. Funny old game, tennis.

He won too. Perry, Budge, Emerson, Laver. . . and Agassi, the only men to win all four Grand Slams. And we almost missed it, so busy were we rear-end spotting in Pairc Ui Chaoimh. "He's only played two tournaments since the break up of his marriage and he's won them both so, ah. . ." said Peter Fleming, back in the BBC studio in London. Go on Peter, spit it out - marriage (to Brooke Shields in particular) is a hindrance to Grand Slam-chasing male tennis players? God, but us poor women are blamed for everything.

Speaking of hindrances to success: John McCririck. I could like Channel Four's racing team only for him. I like John Oaksey, especially when he struggled manfully at the beginning of Saturday's Derby coverage when he was given the task of describing the Queen's rig-out. "Her white suit is definitely some sort of protection against the wind," he said, before sighing with relief when he returned to a subject he's more comfortable with: horses.

But McCririck? Like Werbeniuk's bottom, he turns me right off. After witnessing a bunch of parachuting Red Devils attempting to land on a big red cross near the finishing post he came over all jingoistic. "That ghastly indicted war criminal Milosevic would surrender if he'd seen the accuracy of the Red Devils - I would send them in to one of his palaces, grab that Milosevic up and send him in to the Hague to stand trial. The Red Devils? No wonder Milosevic has packed in the game," he, em, said.

Funny thing was not one of the Red Devils landed on the red cross. Or even close to it. Some might say they were as accurate as NATO's bombs. Perhaps they should have sent John McCririck into Yugoslavia. Now that would have had Milosevic heading for the hills.