The traditional leaders and still with the jewels in the TV football crown, Sky must be careful not to go stale...
They have their positives, but they do not outweigh the negatives. ITV could do so much more...
Absolutely, says Johnny. The BBC has its flaws, but we take it for granted. It's the best around for coverage.
This week Johnny looks at that scheckshee Ruud. We all wish we had a bit of Gullit in us, so to speak.
This week Johnny looks at Clive, Clive. No not that Clive, Clive, the other Clive, Clive. It's Allen, Clive.
Johnny looks at Dean Saunders and thinks of polka dot waistcoats. The Clough story is mentioned.
This week Johnny looks at the man from Middlesbrough who everyone calls Clem. He's that lower league bloke.
This week Johnny takes a look at the Mighty Quinn, and he discovers that he's just his cup of meat.
This week Johnny goes all Butch. Oooh, get him. No, not like that. My word, it's Ray, young man.
This week Johnny goes all Oirish, so he does, and wonders if Richard Dunne is the victim of a nuclear explosion.
This week Johnny goes dahn sarf to the Romford manah, my son. It’s only that fackin’ Ray Parlour, geezer.
Johnny goes back to his favourite medium and listens to the inimitable Caroline Barker on the radio.
Once a part of English football's finest ever club side, Ray Houghton is now a part of the punditry furniture.
Hear that? That’s the Fashionista klaxon being activated. Remember anything he says, though?
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