No. And again I say NO. Wild tickles couldn't make Greg Norman tell of just how instrumental he was in putting Malcolm Turnbull in touch with Donald Trump after the latter's election victory – and it is not even fair to ask my client that question.
The Australian cricket team did what?
The question is being posed with a little more force in the wake of the team losing the last four Test matches in a row.
Is it any of the NRL's business if Ben Barba takes cocaine?
"The TV business," Hunter S Thompson once famously wrote, "is uglier than most things. It is normally perceived as some kind of cruel and shallow money trench through the heart of the journalism industry, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free and good men die like dogs ..."
Mark Taylor, Dean Jones and yes, even Shane Warne, are right.
I ask again to those who wish to support/watch/pay for this grotesque charade. Do you really want it on your conscience?
In the words of Billy Birmingham, "I am sorry, I am going to have to go with me, on this one."
The Nick Kyrgios thing? The outrageous tanking at the Shanghai Open? It was good, at least, that the Sportsbet mob - did I mention that everyone loses sooner or later, so don't waste your readies? - refunded everyone's money on the match in question, and the quote from them was amusing.
There has been a great deal of bitter criticism this week at the very idea of a coronial inquest into the tragic death of Phillip Hughes at the SCG two years ago.
I knew it would happen, and it didn't.
So rugby league needs a new fairy tale? Here are two teams whose run to an NRL title would have Hans Christian Andersen looking over his shoulder.
In my bones, I feel it will be ...
You will recall TFF's rant of 10 days ago that what Australia needed more of was less corporate slug-fests, awash in match-fixing, dodgy deals, bodgy people, bikies and furious factional fighting and more community sport, a la the newly formed Lane Cove Fun Run.
As if you didn't know, it is time – as the flood of muddied oafs begins to recede, and the tide of flanelled fools has not fully engulfed all – for your humble correspondent's annual look at which sporting stocks to buy, sell, and hold.
The Eddie Hayson press conference? What was that all about?
Ah, sing it, Charles Dickens, one more time for the road.
Bloody hell. Aussie Rules. Who would have thunk it?
Meanwhile, far away from match-fixing, from dodgy deals and bodgy people, well away from big-time contracts, from bitter disappointments and furious factional fighting, sport, totally removed from soul-less corporate crunching, real sport goes on . . .
You had to see it to believe it. A minute before half-time in the Roosters vs Broncos game Dale Copley goes into a tackle, gets his head in the way of an inadvertently flying knee, and falls to the ground like a sack of spuds.