An Italian, a stallion and a crashing symbol

Sport on TV

It Is pointless to speculate for long about what the initials "TFI" stand for in the title of Chris Evans's show TFI Friday (Channel 4) - it's likely to be something ruder than "Tell Father It's...". This last Friday, though, they could have stood for Terrific Frankie Interview Friday, when the ex- disc jockey met the jockey, or to put it another way, Ginger met the nut.

An earlier guest on the programme was a man who specialised in putting a clothes-hanger through his nose. In his misspent youth, as he has admitted, Dettori occasionally experimented with putting unusual things up his nose, but he has mellowed now and knows how to look after himself, even to the extent of bringing along a riding crop to keep his questioner in line.

A wise move, for Evans was quickly into his stride. "In France, as you know," he said, "they eat horses. Out of all the horses that you have ridden, which one would you like to eat the most?" Dettori was not having that. He loved horses, he explained, but not in that way. He likes them with tack on, not tartare sauce.

Dettori narrowed his eyes, and hunched the shoulders of his pinstripe suit. "I'm Italian, OK?" he said sternly. "I come on your show, you show me no respect..." but then he rather undid the capo di tutti capi bit by bursting out laughing. Evans, however, was convinced: "If they remade The Godfather," he suggested, "you could play the Al Pacino role." It's not unfeasible. After all, Alan Ladd stood on a box.

Then we discovered why Evans had come over all nice. "He's got a horse, you see," Dettori gleefully announced, "that's the reason he's got me on the show - he wants me to ride it." TFI Friday: not so much a hip modern variety show as a televised jockey-booking session.

Dettori was quick to pick up the conciliatory tone, telling Evans that flat jockeys were paid only pounds 60 a ride, a figure that the bespectacled one can probably stump up even without his Radio One salary. Dettori reckoned this was pretty poor pay for a dangerous occupation. "People think we have an easy time," he said, "but we are risking our lives for pounds 60, so that puts the ball, er, y'know, puts the shoe in your, er, boot." If we could just clarify matters, horses wear shoes, jockeys wear boots and Frankie was talking balls.

Speaking of which, the original plan this week was to discuss the present state of Rugby Special (BBC2), but the tape that was sent over had a very peculiar sound-track - completely silent apart from a voice (which sounded uncannily like Rob Andrew's) repeating: "You have to keep grooving all the time." Now it is quite possible that this was an excerpt from an interview about accuracy in goal-kicking, but it seems more likely to be damning evidence of what happens when you hand over a fuddy-duddy programme to a production company as trendy as Chrysalis.

Another stalwart of the sabbath is Ski Sunday (BBC2), and here too the modernisers have been at work. David Vine has handed in his anorak and sloped off to the snooker. In his place on the pistes is Hazel Irvine, a perky character who gives the programme a chat-show atmosphere: it's a sort of Smillie's People On Ice.

But some things will never change, like the skiers' frantic efforts to whip off one ski as soon as they are over the line so that they can hold it up in front of the cameras and show off their sponsors' names. The other week one of the top men crashed headlong into the barriers after he had crossed the line and it's long odds-on that he had been a little previous with the release clip.

Another staple of the show which the producers have wisely retained is the "harmless but spectacular crashes" segment. This is never announced as such, but you can always tell when it is coming up because someone you have never heard of will suddenly appear on the start-ramp between the Zurbriggens and Alphands.

"Now, Englebert Kretzsmirkle from Liechtenstein," the commentator says over the taped footage, trying not to giggle even though he knows what is coming up. "Englebert has had a challenging season, with a best of 78th at Wengen, but he'll be determined to do better here... Oooh, a little bit close to that gate... Coo, he certainly is cutting it fine... Oh! Look out!" but it is too late for Englebert, who is cartwheeling through the moguls en route to an involuntary assignment as a life-size Christmas- tree ornament. "Well, all's well that ends well," the commentator chuckles as Englebert is cut down, waving cheerily and pointing to the sponsors' names on his skis while, to the secret dismay of the viewers, someone really good lines up at the top of the slope.

Another BBC tradition was flouted on Sportsnight (BBC1). The patrician tones of Barry Davies have added class to the BBC's football coverage for many a long year - indeed it would not be a surprise to learn that his real first name was Barfield. But up popped that frightful oik Joe Kinnear after Wimbledon's FA Cup victory in the week and called our man "Baz"! Genteel viewers the length and breadth of the nation gagged on their Horlicks. Your boys done good, Joe. But don't push your luck.