Yes!, says the leaflet in front of me over-excitedly, it's cycle to work week! And there's that nice Gary "Ratings" Lineker pictured on the website on two wheels, wearing a crisp (ho-ho!) matching suit and tie: we can but speculate on his bicycle clips, though I'd imagine no grease would dare stain Mr Untouchable. Poor chap certainly earns his money when Leonardo's in the studio.

So the Togo boys decided togo to their Dortmund date only to be denied the plainest of penalties by the Paraguayan ref: is this the way, Mr Amarilla, to do your job? Frei couldn't miss for the Swiss, neither could the luxuriantly named Tranquillo Barnetta -- literally "placid borough" -- so it's Mia doga, Togo.

Found out about the Saudi's drubbing at the hands of the not remotely weak Ukraine on Ma and Pa's teletext, delivering some belated Father's Day fruit. As you do. Pleased to see a goal by none other than Rebrov, once half of a dynamic duo at Dynamo Kiev with Chelsea chap Shevchenko, before Sergei, like others, went AWOL under Hoddle.

Good to hear all those authentic-sounding Spanish names like Ramos, Pablo and Garcia, straight out of a Leone picture. Torres tore the Tunis team to bits, then celebrated one of his brace with a strange David Byrne-like arm movement. That's siete goals -- count 'em -- already. Andale!