The cameraman drowned apparently

The cameraman drowned, apparently.Next up was a satellite interview with Jacques Villeneuve, who declined to call Michael Schumacher a cheat (though the duration of his pause before answering told its own story) and a filmed interview with Damon Hill, who, not having to exhibit the largesse of the victor, could afford to be unequivocal Then it was back to Dettori on the comfy couch. The question following on from the motor racing was about the suspensions he had; but the tone was so light that the whole programme was in danger of taking off and floating away like a great big hot air balloon.Still, there was Dettori’s Top of the Pops’ cohort to savour. Eubank makes for great television because he clearly occupies a different plane of existence, a fifth dimension which people think is really quite cool, the essence of an English gentleman, rather than a total and utter prat.His entrance, with his cane and little leather handbag, was sublime. Why were the audience cheering? Why weren’t they jeering and throwing rotten fruit and veg? Because they were loving it, in the way aristocrats used to go to Bedlam to watch the lunatics drool. As he sat down, he preened himself and banged his microphone, eliciting a little giggle from the audience.

My favourite moment was the revelation that he’s a qualified secretary with 60wpm typing speed There are a few things I wouldn’t mind dictating to him. But only if Naseem Hamed was my bodyguard.To be fair to Inverdale, he did ask one or two questions of substance. He wondered whether Eubank shouldn’t retire before further defeats diminish his reputation. “I’ve come up with a statement not too long ago, which goes like this: `Life is a show. Thank God for the show’ ” Eubank said.The audience began to giggle again, somewhat bewildered, but it turned quickly into applause, which made you think the floor manager must have stepped in to head off the howls of derisive laughter. There was another filmed interview, a chummy chat with Evander Holyfield, the action from that night’s Premiership game (the one concession to sport as it is played rather than blethered about), and then the climax, and the programme’s greatest calumny.

If you were the editor of Onside and you had gone to the lengths of securing Johan Cruyff, live in the studio, what would you do? Make him the centrepiece, the jewel in the crown, sit him on the sofa at the beginning and keep him there until the credits roll? Or would you squeeze him in at the end, devoting seven of your 50 minutes to him? The question hardly needs considering.And you’d think hard about what you’re going to say. When Inverdale put it to him that the Dutch never win anything, he looks suitably non-plussed, though he did him the courtesy of answering intelligently rather than giving him a good slap. There were questions about his relationship with Gary Lineker at Barcelona and about his son Jordi, which were fair enough But there should have been so much more. Next week’s guests include Luciano Pavarotti, which gives you some idea how Onside is going to pan out.The BBC promise more of the same, by the way, with talk of a Des Lynam chat show and another comedy slot. But, and I hate to say it, if it’s live sport you’re after in the future you’re going to have to bow down to the anti-Christ in the sky..