If I could just once produce a sentence as exactly perfect as this, I would, I promise, die happy. This from the sumptuously wonderful Hugh McIlvanney in today's Sunday Times:
Perhaps the only adequate way to convey the labyrinthine magnificence of the mess the rulers of English rugby have made of implementing their determination to give Martin Johnson total control of the national team is to say that it threatens to outclass anything produced by the Football Association at the zenith of their capacity for dithering ineptitude.
You can feast on the rest of his column here.
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