And the Oscar for Best Original Score Goes to John Terry, the Inglourious B*****D!

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AT THE risk of making you even more nauseous than usual as you read this column today, I am in Hollywood for the Oscars. NBC have asked me to grill the stars as they strut their way into the ceremony. And let's just say I intend to make a slight deviation from the usual 'Hey, where is that AMAZING dress from, darling?' type of inquisition, into something more akin to: 'Hey Mr Clooney, how does it feel to be only the second-coolest, sexiest man on the red carpet today?'

But as I lay by the pool of the Beverly Wilshire hotel yesterday (yes, the Pretty Woman one...), sipping an ice-chilled Mojito as a waiter cleaned my sunglasses, and fending off the eager attentions of one Katie Price (yes, that one), my mind turned to what would happen if all the Oscars this year went to sportsmen and women.

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And the Oscar for Best Original Score Goes to John Terry, the Inglourious B*****D!

BEST PICTURE No contest here. Pepe Reina's dumbstruck face as Darren Bent's shot ballooned, quite literally off a balloon, into the net at Sunderland was hysterical. Only matched by rumours that Manchester City promptly put in a bid of Pounds 40 million for the...

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