The survey showed that 91 per cent of punters agreed that the bookies should pay a bigger levy

The survey showed that 91 per cent of punters agreed that the bookies should pay a bigger levy to pep up prize-money and improve the quality of the sport.But Chris Bell, managing director of Ladbrokes, called the survey an “absolute disgrace”. He said: “If 83 per cent of our customers thought we were dishonest then we would not have a business turning over pounds 7 billion because punters would not darken our doors.” But whose doors can they darken? Unless the Government orders the racing industry to take over betting, we’re stuck with the big bookmaking chains – and they’re stuck with our opinion of them Although, I wouldn’t use the word dishonest. They’re just a little more parasitical than they need to be.WHILE THE pain of England’s early departure from the Cricket World Cup still lingers, there are one or two compensatory blessings. Chief among them is the temporary demobilisation of the Barmy Army whose persistently tuneless and banal chants have littered the atmosphere at many an England match.However, other nuisances have conspired to make up for their absence.

I refer not to the racket made by the supporters of such as India and Pakistan, who have made a major contribution to what carnival spirit there is, but to irritants for which the tournament sponsors, Vodafone, must take much of the blame. They are not responsible for all the mobile phones that seem to be permanently and monotonously on duty among the crowd but it was their brainwave to put on every seat a card bearing a 4 or a 6.The waving of these may seem harmless fun but not if you happen to be sitting behind the more enthusiastic users. Friends of mine had their day ruined at Lord’s on Wednesday by those in front of them leaping to their feet and brandishing their cards every time the ball looked to be heading for the boundary. Not only did this rob them of the sight of the ball crossing the rope but also of the several fine saves made by fielders.

Who said mobile phones don’t affect the brain?HAVING ONLY recently acquired the technical wherewithal to tune in to Channel 5, I hadn’t been exposed to the commentatory style of Jonathan Pearce prior to England’s game in Bulgaria. I will reserve judgement but I could certainly do without the hysterics, and neither would I miss the exhaustive personal details he provides on every player.The most bizarre came when Hristo Stoichkov brought his international career to an end when he was substituted during the second half. While the Bulgarian, one of the most gifted players of his generation, was taking a rapturous ovation from the home fans Pearce marked the occasion by giving us the totally inappropriate information that Stoichkov used to be a furniture salesman.Perhaps, in his own way, he was indicating that not only could Stoichkov sell the defence a dummy whenever he chose to, he could have sold them a three-piece suite.. THE SUPERB American writer John Gierach has an admirable philosophy for dealing with life. He advises: “The solution to any problem – work, money, love, whatever – is to go fishing, and the worse the problem, the longer the trip should be.” Trouble is, this is a perfect recipe for leaving you penniless, homeless and friendless (unless you count other anglers, which generally means you’re in a worse state than even you thought).

Attributing a Zen-like magic to the pursuit of fish is not just slightly dodgy, it can be downright dangerous. In wilder moments, I claim that angling is my escape valve, though I tend to put this into more flowery terms. If I’m brutally honest, fishing has often been my personal albatross, an affliction that has cost me everything from fame and fortune to the best-looking girl at Harlow College. Without the distraction of rod, water and fish, I could have been, perhaps, Moscow correspondent, or a commentator on Russian affairs.

At very least, I would have passed Russian O level.
Such musings have been inspired, if that’s the right word, by the fact that Wednesday is the official start to the coarse fishing season. Though the days when I always fished on 16 June, come what may, have long gone, the date is still recorded in my diary each year – if only for old times’ sake. I will slow as I drive past the local gravel pits on the way to work, envying those on the banks, but I won’t slope off any more. No longer do I live by the premise that it’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission Bit sad, that But there was a time…It was another 16 June.