What's going on? The nation has spent all day waiting for Phil Tufnell to do the salsa or the mambo or another fiendishly complicated Latin dance, and it turns out that he won't be strutting his stuff till next week.
I'm not sure I can wait. I cannot distinguish between the memory of Tuffers skipping in to bowl with those strangely flat-footed, splayed feet, and how I imagine he will look on the dancefloor. It's going to be so much fun.
And surely he can't be worse than Joe Calzaghe? It looks horribly like the greatest boxer Britain has ever produced is destined to be this year's John Sargeant.
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