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On Tuesday I was in Monte Carlo, interviewing Ken Bates, the 78-year-old chairman of Leeds United and erstwhile owner of Chelsea, over a long lunch. This isn't a boast about the glamorous side of my job, partly because I can count on the fingers of one finger the times I have been to Monte Carlo in the course of duty, and also because a long lunch with Bates, a famously pugnacious and profane individual even in the pugnacious, profane world of sport, wouldn't be everyone's idea of a good time. His fragrant wife Susannah, who was at his side, acts as a kind of restraining leash on him, but that doesn't stop him baring his fangs. At one point, when I asked what he considered to be an impertinent question, he threatened to throw my tape recorder into the nearby Mediterranean.

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