This lesser level of the beautiful game used to be my preferred viewing due to the team I follow, but a recent (surprise) elevation to the top flight meant that my interest in what fans of Morecambe and Walsall call ‘proper’ football waned instantly, as their results no longer affected my mood or hopes. So, as if to apply some punitive self-flagellation for ditching the game’s grass roots, I tuned in.

The issue the BBC always has, when it comes to any coverage of sport, is that the action on the pitch, the bread and butter, is never quite going to be enough for them. Sky did a fine job when it came to non-Premiership football – they put out the Football League Review every Sunday evening which showed every goal, red card and spicy incident with a hasty voiceover and nothing more. ITV, with the dependable Matt Smith at the helm, went a step further by doing one documentary feature in the midst of all the goalmouth action. Neither required a studio set, neither were live, neither felt as if the viewer was missing out through being so.

The BBC, however, are doing their coverage live, as if to prove that their commitment to the lower leagues is equal to that of the Premier League, on which Match Of The Day has cosily focussed in a live and livid manner for many years now.

Live coverage means, however, that dreaded BBC word – interactivity. I’m not certain just how many of the millions of fans from Carlisle to Torquay, Hartlepool to Gillingham, are going to be especially bothered about sending a text saying “Brian (sic) Gunn was always the wrong man, get Strackan (sic) in now” when all they ultimately require is the goals they observed at their game earlier in the day, especially as reduced coverage on satellite sports news services means that it represents the first time many will get a second look at the very dubious penalty decision or controversial red card which transformed their team’s match. But presenter Manish Bhasin, a likeable host but with absolutely no gravitas whatsoever, was charged with flogging the interactivity card as much as possible, while a rolling dot matrix trundled away above his head, reminding the tipsy or sleepy audience of the text number and email address (an email address which, being footballleague@bbc.co.uk, will be misspelled by almost everyone thanks to the presence of three ‘l’s in a row).

The texts and emails, for what they were worth, were read out by Jacqui Oatley, the skilled BBC staffer whose previous status as Match Of The Day‘s first ever female commentator brought out the execrable chauvinism in the older, almost unemployable managers of today such as Dave Bassett. They’ve glammed her up for the cameras (one assumes she is still doing matches on Five Live during the afternoon though?) and made her read out the inarticulate snippets of correspondence that sound and impact no better than when similar nonsense goes to 606 on the radio. It’s as obvious an example of televisual turd-polishing as you could possibly muster. She’s also hindered massively by having no mic attached to her outfit, but instead one of those hideous ear-to-mouth gismos that, when in line with bright studio lighting, casts an oval-shaped shadow that makes her look like she has an unsightly wart on her bottom lip. Why she must wear this while Bhasin and his cohort Steve Claridge don’t is anyone’s guess.

The programme has to be careful not to concentrate on the ‘big’ clubs too much – it was notable that Bhasin introduced the first action of the day by rattling on about Newcastle United’s varying troubles, prior to announcing the commentator’s name at St James’ Park. Cue the action. However, for those of us with an interest that was no more than idle, we genuinely had no idea who Newcastle were actually playing until the first goal went in and the consequent scoreline graphic appeared on screen. This is because neither Bhasin, nor his autocue writer, nor the commentator, nor the in-vision person, had chosen to tell us, demonstrating an appalling but predictable focus on the ‘big’ club that too many media outlets are guilty of at the highest echelon of the game. Unlike the highlights on its elder sibling immediately before, even the featured games had no tiny scoreline in the top of the screen for latecomers to digest. Fans of Reading, for ’twas they, must have been mightily annoyed (although given that they lost 3-0, may even have been unusually grateful for the oversight).

The best thing by a mile about The Football League Show is Claridge, the great wanderer of English football who made more than 1,000 appearances for 20+ clubs, scoring goals with his socks rolled down everywhere, while laying bets at half time and brawling with his more idiosyncratic managers. Claridge, as Five Live listeners will know, provides a refreshing earthiness and fearlessness to his punditry, unafraid to criticise heavily in sharp contrast to most pundits resorting to inconclusive, uncommitted soundbites, while also proffering credit where it is due. He has clearly learned that his unique brand of stop-start punditry, which works so well on the radio as it humanises him, simply won’t wash when he is in vision, and so he speaks concisely and with brevity and it works an absolute treat. The presence as the roving reporter of the magnificent Mark Clemmit, a truly superb communicator on Five Live on the lower divisions for many a year, is also a major plus for the programme.

It was helped also by the large controversy at Bristol City, where an evident Crystal Palace goal was chalked off due to considerable incompetence form the officials, leaving the media-friendly but ever-hateful Palace boss Neil Warnock jumping up and down like Yosemite Sam on the touchline prior to a fudged, impromptu live interview with Bhasin “live from Cornwall” (according to the map of the UK taped to the camera which generously reminded us where Cornwall was) to tell us all again how unfair it all was. It made great television because a) Warnock is at his most entertaining when he has been hard done by; b) it was done with remarkable calmness by Bhasin, presumably on the basis that even a known outburst merchant like Warnock wouldn’t behave like a complete arse on national television; and c) you could almost hear fans of every club Warnock has managed to insult or alienate over the years laughing with great heartiness at their television sets.

There won’t be a controversial incident like this every week to discuss; indeed, many weeks it’ll have the air of Fantasy Football League‘s satirisation of the lower divisions, entitled Saint & Greavsie Talk About The Nationwide League – As If It’s Important, which will see Bhasin and Claridge gamely trying to find talking points from three dozen largely ho-hum matches. To fans gluttonously supporting Premier League teams, only the sponsors have altered since Skinner and Baddiel took the piss, but the lower reaches are still very important to those whose teams play in it, and the BBC should realise that by concentrating more on the action, making best possible use of their personalities, and reducing the gimmickry.

2 – How come Kenzie and Chesney are in the same year, yet the former looks about five years older than the latter?

3 – Do smokers have to go behind the bar and to the hallway to get to that shelter?

4 – Why has work suddenly ceased on the new flat development?

5 – Who owns that joinery firm at the end of the road that we see in every episode?

6 – Why did bosses keep Jane Danson’s real-life pregnancy off our screens but aren’t doing likewise with Julia Haworth’s?

7 – Was that Casey woman ever put on trial?

8 – What happened to Eric the bookie, played by Tony Slattery – given that Lloyd’s debt, called in by Harry, was to an unseen bookie not called Eric?

9 – Given that his son has driven his car into a canal and wound up in jail, and his step-daughter got married, where the hell is Martin Platt?

10 – Why is this programme, for all its niggles and faults, still by far the best thing on television?

Now I find Frost hard to warm to. I love the grainy images of him playing the part of Disraeli on TW3, using a 19th century First Lord of the Treasury to have a big pop at Alec Douglas-Home, but as he aged, he switched sides. His days as the leading satirist of his generation (can you believe that this obsequious, slurry-spoken, red-socked knight of the realm used to be more highly regarded than Rushton, Wells or Ingrams as the leading satirist of his generation?) are but a distant memory, and for most of his days in colour television he has given political figures and the powerful and pompous a notoriously easy time.

So, we get to him and Ferguson. I was very cynical as I tuned in. I’m no supporter of Manchester United but I adore football and its hold on the country, and I am an admirer of Ferguson’s achievements and fascinated by his life. For all that, I want Paxman to grill him (“so then Alex, you assaulted your star player with a spare football boot, didn’t you?”) but that clearly won’t happen, irrespective of who Paxman’s employers are. What on earth can one knight who never offends draw from another who never bites?

Well, I was pleasantly surprised. Tagged as Ferguson’s first feature-length interview for a decade, Frost asked him about selling Jaap Stam and whether it really was about the unwise revelations in the Dutch defender’s autobiography which forced Ferguson’s hand. Nope, an Achilles injury, a loss of pace and a massive offer from Lazio. We can choose not to believe Ferguson, of course, but that depends on whether you support Liverpool or Manchester City or have dinner regularly with Laurent Blanc’s agent.

Also, Ferguson’s relationship – or utter lack of – with the BBC came up. I was genuinely shocked and very pleased it did. Ferguson simply wants an apology from the corporation (he’s refused to speak to the Beeb for many years since a documentary said unkind things about his son Jason’s dealings as a football agent) but admits he is unlikely to get one. It remains very unsatisfactory to United fans and football fans in general to listen to Carlos Quieroz bleating about refs each week on Match of the Day but at least we’ve heard Ferguson’s word on it now.

Frost didn’t press Ferguson on his hypocrisy over referees – calling for them to be respected and supported one week, then laying mercilessly into them the next – but apart from that this was the most fulfilling piece of television I’ve seen Sir David complete since he dribbled over Debbie Greenwood on Through The Keyhole.

Kevin Webster was before magistrates and on his way to chokey within a fortnight of smacking his daughter’s teacher. Now, I appreciate that the backlog of committal proceedings is long, but surely by now the trial or hearing at Weatherfield Crown Court would have happened?

Or are Granada trying to airbrush a largely ineffective old storyline quietly away?

The comedy hasn’t dated, and neither have the games. I read through my OTT history of the show and still feel generally happy with it despite these retrospective viewings. Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie still make me laugh really, really hard; Greg Proops is still on autopilot and Josie Lawrence is still bloody awful, awful, awful. I think I was harsh on Tony Slattery though; maybe his ubiquity and eventual decline within the trappings of celebrity contributed to my lack of sympathy for him or his skills. Or maybe I’ve mellowed.

The only things to have really dated are Steve Frost’s floral shirts.

It seems inevitable, as interest returns through these repeats and the forthcoming DVD releases, that some form of revival may be in the offing. But is this brand of genuinely clever comedy which suits a family audience any good to a TV channel any more?

So, here goes with hopefully a mildly controversial and provocative thread on the best possible QI quartet, from all who have appeared. It’s based on their knowledge, ability to spark debate and facility to amuse.

1 – David Mitchell
2 – John Sessions
3 – Bill Bailey
4 – Jeremy Clarkson

Mitchell is the funniest man on British television right now, and his appearances in the just-ended “E” series were all-compassing and superb. Sessions has used QI as a vehicle to become likeable again, and that’s no mean feat. He’s also superb when being anecdotal. Bailey’s got this improvisational branch to his performance on the programme; he gives off many signals that the panellists have no notion of what is ahead of them. Clarkson provides an element of tension due to his sometimes offbeat views, but he maintains a sense of humour and furnishes the panel with great stories.

Leaving out Sean Lock and Dara O’Briain was very hard. Leaving out Alan Davies was a lot easier – I don’t dislike him, but his shtick at being the supposed thickie and Fry’s “victim” is now a tad tedious. Rich Hall and Phill Jupitus are likeable enough but the former says too little and the latter always finds himself surrounded by funnier folk.

I like QI. I’m glad Dave thinks it is laddish enough for them, when in fact it isn’t actually that laddish at all.

The McDonalds have always been brilliant. Feisty, argumentative and racked with tensions, they nonetheless maintained the believable end of their edginess and it was a poor decision to axe first Andy (though Nicholas Cochrane’s character, as the strongest-willed, was the most disposable) and then Jim. Although both have returned sporadically when plotlines have demanded it (the Blackpool special, Steve’s riotous second wedding to Karen) it has fallen on Simon Gregson’s shoulders to prove that a McDonald presence on the Street needed to be maintained. Bringing back the character of Jim pays a sly tribute to Gregson’s standing on the Street these days as, despite being only 33 in real life and in character, one of the programme’s longest-serving continuous characters.

I hope Jim is back to stay, and although he is much more chalk to the rest of the family’s cheese, I hope there are plans afoot to bring back Andy too, even beyond any necessary cameo for Cochrane to undertake for the wedding episode. There is a difference with the McDonalds I enjoy.

I suspect that all Corrie fans thought immediately like I did when I read the news – what will happen to Jack? Reading on, and it was made clear that Bill Tarmey would be sticking around to continue playing his character. To my mind, this leaves Granada with absolutely no alternative – they have to kill Vera off.

This may be somewhat insensitive, given that Liz Dawn is leaving because she has emphysema, but the Duckworths have – despite a ratio of rows and fallouts more suited to opposite sides in a civil war – been the Street‘s most enduring and tight-knit couple. It has been programming policy for many years now that they will never be given a storyline which leads to their permanent splitting up. Every adult around them has a turbulent marital history – widowed, divorced, separated, deserted, jilted, parenting out of wedlock – but not these two. Their weaknesses have been their strength.

A 50th wedding anniversary for the Duckworths – although we’ve only had 27 years of it with the cameras on – is due this year. In typically soapish manner, this could be the time for Vera to discover something’s up with her – she has only one kidney, for example; the reminder of that is with her grandson Paul, who got the kidney a few years ago and is now getting his feet under the table – and begin the process of fading her out. Like Stan and Hilda Ogden before them, this could be the ultimate making of the Duckworth legend; we all recall the astonishing performance of Jean Alexander as she opened the just-deceased Stan’s spectacles case and finally broke down after losing the man she had spent 20 years on our screens terrorising. For all Bill Tarmey’s undoubted disappointment at waving away his sparring partner, I suspect the chance for him to do something beyond the malingering-gambling-drinking pensioner with half-repaired glasses shtick just once will be something this excellent performer will relish.

Vera started on the Street in 1974, largely in the background at the factory later to be taken over by Mike Baldwin, at which point she seeped to the front. Her running gossip sessions with Ivy Tilsley and Ida Clough were finely honed comic soap, the type of which the likes of Sean Tully, Janice Battersby (a Vera successor in most ways, except she’s still hard to like) and Fiz Brown are continuing with gusto. When not sewing flared denims, she was in the Rovers continuing the tirade, or – like the then unseen Jack – having discreet liaisons with other men. Once Jack became a real person with Tarmey’s elevation from extra to speaker in 1979, we learned the truth about the Duckworths – they had eyes elsewhere, but ultimately couldn’t be without one another.

Vera was sacked by Baldwin, then reinstated after a plea from his trophy wife Susan, then sacked again. She tried running the Rovers, but was as a bad an accountant as she was a leader and delegator. She learned to drive (infamously with a Vera lookalike in the long shots, as Liz Dawn had never even sat behind a wheel before) after winning a car, and her constant belief that she is loosely Royal thanks to a spot of illegitimate fumbling on a red carpet somewhere has always been a delight. The application of that ugly stone cladding and the renaming of her house as The Old Rectory emphasised her unquenched desire to rise a level. Her dogged belief in her villainous son, Terry, has also brought out the best in Vera, even though she really should have aimed such belief in her husband, although her subsequent surrogate motherhood to the likes of Curly Watts and Tyrone Dobbs at least partly cleansed her sense of failure, along with the good relationship she enjoys with the two remaining mothers of the three grandsons which Terry spawned and then left.

But ultimately, it’s still that very partnership with Jack which has been Vera’s saviour, her constant, and therefore – just like the most solid relationships in real life – it has to end in the way the vows intend and death must do them part. It’ll be sad to close the door on another long and distinguished chapter in Corrie‘s history, but with the older characters there’s only so much room for sentiment – after all, there’s high class drama to had, first and foremost. Let Vera go with dignity and style – so no sudden heart attacks to prevent the expected cause of death, like the cop out over Mike Baldwin – and let’s hope that Liz Dawn’s battle against emphysema is a long and unharrowing one.

Especially for the fans, Kevin made sure he mentioned in his speech the memorable first meeting between the two in January 1986 when, while driving Brian Tilsey’s breakdown van somewhere unspecified, he drove through a puddle and soaked an 18 year old puffball-skirted, highlighted fashion victim of the era, who gave him such merry hell through the window when he stopped to apologise that he offered her a lift home to get changed. And love blossomed…

Her first big role was to be the eagle eyes of a dawn-breaking Street when she spotted that the Rovers was on fire. Kevin is remembered as the hero who climbed a ladder and dragged Bet to the window (and better still ran the length of the street with dressing-gowned Percy Sugden carrying the ladder), but ultimately he only got in because Sally was looking the right way. He was too busy trying to bite chunks out of her neck…

Typically of long-serving Street characters, Sally has worked just about everywhere available on Coronation Street itself. She answered phones in the old yard, then had a job in the Rovers, until walking out in a strop when her lunchtime shifts were given to the returning Betty; she childminded for Gail and others at their homes; she worked in the corner shop for Alf Roberts, then did Kevin’s admin for a while in the garage before taking on her current position at Underworld. All she needs now is to become Steve McDonald’s latest recruit at StreetCars and the full set will be hers.

She’s lived at No.13 (or 12A, as Hilda Ogden briefly tried to call it) since Hilda’s lodger Kevin met her, initially with the timeless and kindly Mrs Ogden, who didn’t like her at first (only because she adored Kevin’s posh ex, Michelle Thingy) and then as long term leaseholders and finally owner when Hilda did her disappearing act to Derbyshire. There was that period where she left Kevin and moved in with Greg Kelly above the corner shop, but of course, this was soap…

Sally Whittaker has developed her namesake from ambitious, gobby teenager to ambitious, arrogant middle-aged mother with splendid gusto. She’s had to deal with fallouts, marriages, remarriages, domestic violence, wayward kids, business failures and hurt pride, and has always come through the test. When Johnny Briggs left Coronation Street, he called her “the best actress on the programme, and yet nobody notices” – and I think that sums her up. Here’s hoping she’ll be celebrating her 80th in the Rovers in 2047, and Kevin, aged 84, will still be on about that big dirty puddle.

Sadly, they labelled it as Action Hero’s, prior to and at the end of every commercial break.

Who the hell has been allowed to get away with such a mistake? How did they get their job?

It almost ruined the whole movie for me… but not quite. However, I hope ITV1 noticed the error, located the perpetrator and shot him in the head as he drank a can of Coke.