What's that you say?

Looking ahead to the World Cup and the commentators who will amaze and inform.

Ian St John and Jimmy Greaves, old-time commentators, are no match for this year's Bitterman and Bonehead.

Fabio Capello, the England football manager, will announce his provisional squad for the World Cup today. The names will ping around the planet within seconds as we wait to hear which loyal old warhorses - or cart horses, in Emile Heskey's case - have been put to pasture and which have been saddled up for one last hurrah. But wherever the England squad goes, another squad follows: a media circus of ex-professionals, pundits and piffle-pedlars to analyse every second of the campaign, both on and off the pitch.

So, after much consideration, it gives me great pleasure to announce this secondary squad. Clive Bore: A veteran commentator who has attended every major tournament since 1966, and will tell you all about them if you ask. Or even if you don't. Ian Wrong: This "hilarious" former professional will be a roving pundit. Unencumbered by logic, Wrong simply ploughs on with his unique brand of analysis: 50 per cent cliché, 50 per cent emotive claptrap, all delivered at top volume.

Ron Bitterman: Ex-manager Bitterman turned to media work after British clubs began favouring urbane European coaches with rimless spectacles over "old school" managers who preferred to communicate via the medium of hurled teacups. Not that he resents an Italian getting the England job. In fact, he wishes Capello well, and has retracted his previous suggestion that "he'll probably switch sides half way through, like they did in the war".

Angus McEnvy: A former Scotland international, McEnvy will be asked to commentate on every England game, if only for the fun of hearing him trying to contain his bitterness that, yet again, his countrymen have failed to qualify. Felicity Fluff: As a roving reporter, Fluff will mainly be seen standing pointlessly outside the locked gates of the players' hotel complex, or surrounded by leering, sunburned goons in a Fan Zone.

Guy Random: Random became an overnight national treasure after winning a bronze medal in clay pigeon shooting at the 2004 Olympics. He was swiftly forgotten the following week, but a major broadcaster had already signed him up to a watertight 10-year deal. So, here he is, out of context. Again. Mark Bonehead: a former football hooligan who renounced terrace violence to become an author and media pundit, Bonehead's role is to blame "heavy handed policing" and "a few bad apples" every time 10,000 rioting England fans destroy a small town.

Ian O'Rak: Official spokesman for the non-rioting England fans, O'Rak's main duty is to drone on about extortionate hotel prices while you leave the room to make a cup of tea. Candi Treat: She monitors the frocks and frolicking of the players' glamorous WAGS (Wives and Girlfriends). Although not officially a WAG, Treat dated Jermaine Defoe for two weeks in 2003, and believes he will call her back any day soon. The England Squad: Yes, the actual players also merit inclusion in this list, as they will all be available for punditry duties on matches which do not involve England. So that is basically anything after the quarter-finals.

Some British sports fans have a reputation for teasing our American cousins over their alleged failure to invent original sports. American football, we say, is just "rugby with shoulder pads" and baseball is dismissed as "rounders on steroids". These accusations may be factually correct, but I disagree with the intended insult. Yes, the USA has jazzed up a few minority sports, but what is wrong with that? Surely taking Europe's unloved cast-offs and giving them a new lease of life was America's raison d'être. The Statue of Liberty inscription says: "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free." It should add: "Give me your cruddy sports, too. We'll take rounders, for a start, which you lot only play at the beach. I'm sure we could do something better with that." I only mention this because the Americans were at it again last week, by spicing up one of Britain's oldest traditions: pitch-invading. For generations we Brits enjoyed the spectacle of a youthful trespasser darting around the pitch while overweight police officers and stewards make increasingly comical attempts to stop them. In recent years, however, pitch invasions have declined due to improved security, the shadow of hooliganism and increasing ticket prices. So when Steve Consalvi, a 17-year-old Philadelphia Phillies fan, decided to hop the fenceat Citizens Bank Park, it all seemed rather tired. Funny, but old hat. Then the alchemy happened. Consalvi was charging around the field, successfully evading four stewards with some jinking footwork, when a tubby cop lost patience. He pulled out his Taser gun and zapped the youngster with several thousand volts. Civil rights campaigners are asking whether this was excessive force. I ask only this: what are you going to call this fantastic new spectator sport? And can I please get a season ticket?

Will Batchelor is a writer, broadcaster and self-confessed cynical sport fan. [e-mail]