Black eyes and red faces as the mighty keep falling

TV View: "Ah now, hold your horses," aggrieved punters have oft been heard to say when the nag upon which they've staked their mortgage fails to produce the goods.

Recently, though, some of them have suspected a bit of literal "holding of horses" as the finishing post looms, hence all this chin-scratching, followed by heated allegations about the purity of the horse-racing industry. Some punters have even alleged there's a shifty element to the industry, almost as bold a statement as, say, "Some footballers are overpaid".

First there was Kieren Fallon, suspended for 21 days for non-wilfully breaching riding rules when Ballinger Ridge and himself failed to hear Chris Catlin and Rye say, "We're right behind you." Then there was Sean Fox, who also got a 21-day ban when his relationship with Ice Saint ended abruptly after the ninth fence at Fontwell Park.

The stewards found Fox guilty of "falling off his horse"; on the Late Late Show on Friday night Ted Walsh simply found him guilty of being, well, a "desperate gobshite".

"If he did deliberately jump off," said Ted, "as Del Boy would put it, he's a 'proper plonker' - there are easier ways of getting beat than jumping off at 30 miles an hour. Either way he's a plonker - if he fell off he can't ride, and if he jumped off he's a fool."

It was a compassionate assessment, that's assuming you'd prefer to be known as a "proper plonker" and a "desperate gobshite" than a "shady individual".

Ted, though, reckoned Fallon's mishap was "just an error of judgment", one that had been "blown out of all proportion" by the media, a view shared by the panel on BBC2's Sport + yesterday.

While the Daily Telegraph's Jim McGrath admitted it was "one of the most disappointing and upsetting weeks I can ever remember in racing" he went on to reassure punters the sport isn't "any more dirty now than it's ever been" - an opinion that might not have encouraged viewers to declare: "Phew, that's alright then."

Also appearing on Sport + was John Maxse, the Jockey Club's Director of Public Relations. Before Fallon-and-Foxgate Maxse was a young man; since then his efforts to restore shattered relations with the horse-racing public have left him with a brow so furrowed and eye-bags so charcoal-black he now looks 10 years past retirement age. They shoot horses, don't they? Maxse looked like he wished they'd shoot the Jockey Club's director of public relations too. Three words give this man sleepless nights: suspicious betting patterns.

In light of recent events it's probably best not to use horse-racing analogies when talking about Manchester United. But there's now a bigger gap - points-wise and every other way - between Arsenal and United than there was between Ballinger Ridge and Rye when Fallon dropped his hands.

And with every passing week Ballinger Ridge's jockey, Alex Ferguson, can barely see Arsene Wenger's mount Rye, so far is he disappearing over the horizon. And when he takes out his binoculars to try to locate Rye's current position Chelsea's rear end is blocking his view. There are some conditions not even a bucketful of Prozac could cure.

Midweek Porto did the damage, although it was largely the fault of ITV commentator Clive Tyldesley. Five minutes to go, all going swimmingly. Then Clive utters the immortal line: "We haven't seen much of Benni McCarthy tonight and United will be hoping it stays that way". Then McCarthy scored and that was United out of the Champions League.

Before yesterday's Manchester derby, between the Premiership strugglers and Manchester City, Ferguson was interviewed by Sky Sports. Defiantly, in his red-cheeked, pursed-lips way, he dismissed the "sensationalism on the back pages", the end-of-an-era headlines that followed United's Champions League exit. "They wrote us off after we lost 5-0 to Newcastle; in '98, when we lost the league, it was the end of era; in 2002 it was the end of era; today it's the end of an era - what can you do?"

What can you do? Beat the three-legged lame mule of Premiership football, aka Manchester City. After two minutes and 51 seconds the United defence dropped its hands and the mule scored. And scored again and again and again.

"A disappointing second half," said Ferguson, calmly, steam gushing from his ears, cheeks so rosy your damp finger would have sizzled if you touched them.

"You'll hope Arsenal might blow up?" asked the reporter.

"You'd never know, it's such a strange game, this," said Ferguson.

Come on, Alex, it's not that strange.