a response to King of the Gays by Fuzzy

Above: And there's me thinking that Fuzz and Han went to Thailand for their honymoon

“Dear king of the gays,

I note your comments with interest. Without wishing to comment on your choices and engage in a “You’ve got a black cat, I’ve got a panther” tit for tat diatribe on your chosen subjects – I thought that I would move the debate in a different direction and focus my attention on one of the forgotten hero’s of commentary – Alan Wilkins. As you will recall Alan was formerly the erstwhile presenter of “Rugby Special Wales” the thinking mans version of “Scrum V” which was altogether a more cerebral affair. Think back. There were no bloody women presenters talking blabbering crap about Lee Byrnes thighs and for some unknown reason they saw fit to record the programme in an actual TV studio rather than in some faux pub surrounded by fat committee men, fatter women’s rugby teams and roiders for some village club from the arse end of a valley.

Also there was no Rick “Man Of The People” O’Shea chirping on about the characters you meet in the clubs up and down the country like some demented love child of “Doc Cox” off of That’s Life. Instead we used to look forward to the incoherent semi turret commentary of jive talking sideburn mister Phil Bennett throwing about cliché's as if they were on sale in Tesco’s – classics such as “Slanting straight run”; “Bags of pride”; “50 odd caps”; and who could forget “Its Wales with the heart, but England with the head” – absolute fucking gibberish. We also had the joy of watching highlights of old merit table games between behemoths such as Cross Keys, Newbridge, Penarth v Tredegar. We could see the Jim Scarlett’s; Dick Morriaty’s; Arwel Parry’s; Andy Allen’s; Paul Jackson’s; Alun Edmunds’; Laurence Dellaney’s; Richard Diplock’s; David Crane’s; and Carl Gnoiak’s strut their majestic skills on one of our three channels for one magical hour a week – none of this Rabo Direct tripe between Dolmio v Connaught that we are forced to endure today where you need a map to work out whose playing.

Alan Wilkins bestrode the programme like a colossus of rugby chat – the man exuded sports casual in his blue sports jacket and grey farrahs. He has the poise of a Parkinson, the suave sophistication of a Titchmarsh and the raw animal instincts of a Madley – he was in essence a gnats cock away from Partridge on The Day Today. My abiding memory of him was that he has way too much hair for only one head.

Above: Alan Wilkins - and now lets look at the highlight of Maesteg's 0-0 fight with Penarth

I was most spun out recently when I saw him anchoring Star Sports in Singapore – what the fuck is all that about? He has forsaken the splendour of Pandy Park to commentate on wiff – waff tournaments in Bongo Bongo land. All very confusing but each to their own. He was greying at his temples / cheekbones / belly – (it all merged into one) but it was the same unmistakable lilt that soothed many a hangover of a Sunday afternoon between 5.30pm – 6.30pm. This was back in the days when they actually showed the programme at the same time each week and not at a time when only security guards and late night radio DJs are up. Anyway – he took me back down memory lane and its fair to say that the current crop such as Mohammad and that man child who looks like Colin are merely graphite in comparison to this long forgotten diamond of BBC broadcasting. Now will somebody else please add to this cul de sac of social commentary by ripping the shit out of Nigel Starmer-Smith and eulogising the god that is Cliff Morgan”