But, in the autumn of 2007, this Godawful imitation of an international sport, will no longer be one bit funny.

In 12 months time, the Irish team will be captained by Tadgh Kennelly of the Sydney Swans. Yeah, a young man who does not even play Gaelic football.

Hah!

It's deeply unfortunate that Tadgh is also a young Kerryman, but that's the way the cookie keeps crumbling in recent weeks . . . Kerry folk think I'm being extra cantankerous and cross with them, for no good reason. They can't accept my honest appraisal of the Kerry team Jack O'Connor has led to two All-Irelands titles in three years as being only mediocre-to-good.

In truth, I like Kerry, and I think Kerry people are perfectly decent. Also, I love great Kerry footballers and great Kerry football teams.

It's doesn't get any better than being a true Kerry footballer! I'll tell you honestly, the last time I bumped into one . . . the Bomber Liston himself in Ballybunion golf club . . . I was as happy as a small-time lotto winner.

Bill Clinton was hitting the small ball in Ballybunion that same day, and Bomber played in the fourball (with half of Bill's secret service boys) behind the former President. Clinton played 36 holes that morning and afternoon. The Bomber followed him, from a distance, for 30 of them and then retired to the clubhouse on a baking hot evening where, until Mr President arrived in, pink in the face, the Bomber and I chatted a good football chat.

Everyone milled around Bill. Me? I was too busy talking to a man who was one of the best half dozen Kerry footballers of all time. Sure, you could meet Bill on any other day of the week in Ireland, I thought at the time . . . and I was not very wrong in that assumption!

It's a shame the Bomber has, this last week, ruled himself out of the job of managing the Kerry senior football team. It's an equal shame, of course, that Jack O'Connor has reckoned he can do more and has thrown the towel in after all these years.

His honest decision must be respected. No man can give of himself, free, to a great cause forever and leave family and friends and workmates behind. Jack is another good, honest football man, but. . . you know what I'm going to say. . . one last time! His Kerry team claimed two of the worst AllIreland finals in living memory, and his Kerry team will be fortunate if they are remembered for very much, with juices flowing in conversations, in five or 10 years' time.

In a perfect world of professional Gaelic football, the Kerry manager would have stayed where he was for another three years and we would have seen for sure exactly what he and his team were made of.

Ah, well!

In the paragraph you are now starting to read, I'm going to give the Bomber a slap on the ear, and I'm going to give my former manager and my good friend Sean Boylan a slap as well.

What's Sean doing as Irish team manager in this walking embarrassment of a game, and what's the Bomber doing as one of his selectors?

I don't know. The two of them are away with the fairies I'm afraid. This series is an insult to a great many people in Ireland and in Australia and at best it will only ever rank on page two of Sean Boylan's magnificent curriculum vitae. And even on that page it might present itself as an undignified spectacle.

I was in Croke Park on the afternoon of the Leinster senior football final when Seanie was honoured with the 'Hall of Fame' award this summer.

I was filled with admiration and emotion watching him and his family being honoured that day, and was filled with pride as I stretched over the wall of the Ard Comhairle to shake his hand. A lifetime of sacrifice and greatness was recognised that afternoon . . . a mammoth contribution to Gaelic football was put on show as he walked to the centre of the field and saluted the 80,000 crowd.

But, alas, Sean is a George Cukor, a John Ford, a Steven Spielberg, who is now about to direct his first, fast-food advert next weekend.

Sean's greatest weakness was always his fascination and devotion to the big stage. He loves his theatre. He's Andrew Lloyd Webber and Spielberg all wrapped up in one great football coach. And with Sean Boylan as Irish team boss for this series and next year's nobody should have been too surprised that Tadgh Kennelly was asked to be Ireland's vice-captain this year and will be captain in 12 months' time.

Look at the scriptf "young man turns his back on Gaelic football, the game his father conquered, and heads out to Australia and amazingly conquers the game of Australian rules football. Young man gets a call from Sean Boylan, and young man comes home and captains his country in Gaelic football against. . .

Australia!" Reads well, sure it does!

And if it was being staged at The Point or The Gaiety, with Michael Flatley in a tight little Aussie uniform, it might even be a hit. The man'll make millions out of it if Tadgh's story is ever turned into song and dance.

It's also pure bullshit, of course. Tadgh Kennelly is no more a Gaelic footballer this morning than I am . . . and frankly I'm insulted. Why didn't Sean ask me or some other slightly portly 44year-old to captain Ireland against the poor Aussies?

I could probably make half a fist of it too because this series is going to be so damn tame and easypeasy for the Irish. Kennelly should not be next or near the Irish squad . . . however the Aussie squad is an entirely different kettle of footballer! There he would be at home. Christ, this reminds of the really awful, deeply embarrassing days of this series (when I was younger and on the field! ) and Jim Stynes would turn up in an Irish jersey one year, and arrive in a yellow one a year later! I actually marked Stynes when he wore one of those yellow jerseys. My two green jerseys from that episode in my football career I must confess I now use as wash rags for my car. Before that the same sleeveless jerseys were used as body-warmers, hidden four or five layers beneath my tracksuit when I coached Lucan Sarsfields.

Kennelly, the 'Swan', and Colm Begley, the 'Lion' (also from Down Under) were the only two Irish players who were always assured of squad places . . . and probably starting places . . . on this Irish team. Naturally if the flying Sean Og O hAlpin had decided to be available he'd also have received the nod as usual . . . which is another senseless and demeaning selection from the past which makes a mockery of every Gaelic footballer who plays the game every week of the year.

In the near future, if this international series continues, then the Irish team will probably be 'made up' of gangs of O hAlpins and gangs of Aussie rules footballers. We'll be lucky if one Gaelic footballer even gets a look in on the starting 15. But maybe that's a good thing. Maybe this series needs to present itself for what it is . . . a Michael Flatley meets Dame Edna Everage production . . . before it dawns on the rest of ye that this business is ultimately not doing anybody any good.