Dear Patrick Kluivert

You've given new meaning to the phrase 'football strip'. Just hang on to your dignity and you can beat the world, not just the Republic of Ireland
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The Independent Online
Are you feeling good? I'll bet you are. And I'll tell you something else: on Wednesday's evidence, you're sure as heck looking good. Your defeat of Ireland didn't just bring tears to Jack Charlton's eyes, it extracted sobs from most of the women in Europe. Those ducky pecs, the laundry-processing stomach, the roundy bits, the straining sinews: they almost persuaded me to like football.

But a quick word in the old shell-like. I want to talk to you about marketing. You're already a hero in your own field, but now you've proven that you have star quality in bags. We're talking style here: a sort of style that our British thugs can only dream about. The way you stripped your shirt off after scoring your second goal was so perfectly executed that we could make a tidy penny selling it on video to football training courses: Kluivert as the Do - and Gascoigne, tongue hanging from mouth, as the Don't.

Maybe you've spent your formative years practising but it usually requires many takes for, say, Keanu Reeves, another famous torso, to rip off a shirt with a movement so clean. The combination of insouciance and precision - taking the time to untuck the hem from that place where John Major is reputed to keep his so that nothing snagged or rode up, not breaking your stride as you peeled it over your torso, the graceful supermodel over- the-head whirl - display a sophistication that belies your 19 years. With the right handling you have a bright, bright future.

You're a lion among puppy-dogs. You must keep it that way. Gazza may have been the ideal front man for Brut but you are made for greater things. Calvin Klein keks, for instance, or one of those high-sex scents like Obsession, whose ads consist mainly of nakedness. And one of the designers who sell clothes to the pop-star disco market should snap you up: you'd look lovely in a Versace waistcoat. Or a nice coat of Haagen-Dazs, for that matter.

But keep your dignity. A well-crafted No can be worth a million dollars. Don't, for instance, even think about modelling for the Littlewoods catalogue. The Lucozade account may be lucrative, but you're not a family product. And as for snack foods: we all love Gary Lineker, bless him, but you're more caviare than crisps. Stay upmarket and the market will come to you.

So those are the advertising possibilities. There are other options. Film would be one. OK, so you may not be able to act but that never stopped Sonja Henie. I think, though, that your obvious next step is pop stardom. Stock, Aitken have presumably already been in touch about that hi-energy version of "That's the Way (uh-huh uh-huh) I Like it". But there's another opening you should seriously be considering. Why not replace Robbie in Take That? Maybe you're a little young, but you'd add a nice multiracial touch and you've certainly proved you're a great little mover.

Think about it. I'm more than happy to help you to decide.