COME on, all sing along now - "Da da da da da da der der der ... da da da da der der!"

That's right, the unmistakable theme tune to good old Match of the Day (or, as it's known now, when it seems every phrase of more than two words or three syllables has to be shortened to an acronym), MOTD.

Excuse me, though, for failing to get too worked up about the regular return of the Beeb's wholesome trinity of Lawro, Lineker and Hansen.

For a start, I don't like the tired format of highlights, interviews and predictable "analysis", jazzed up with Independence Day-style computer graphics over the opening credits.

I don't like the way Gary and his insipid sidekicks look increasingly like The Bachelors, without ever managing to be even half as entertaining as the popular 60s crooners.

And what I dislike most of all is the unquestioning acceptance of the way the ludicrously titled "beautiful game" is heading, especially at the top level. As we were reminded more than once during the recent FA Faria-gate farce, a fish rots from the head down.

Did you see, for example, the abuse being meted out to the match officials by that charming little scamp Craig Bellamy? Kieron Dyer hardly covered himself in glory either, which, along with the signing of Lee Bowyer, makes it hardly surprising that Newcastle are no longer everyone's second-favourite club.

No doubt once wonderkid Wayne Rooney is restored to full fitness we'll be treated to close-ups of him doing what he does best, effing and blinding at full volume right in the faces of poor beleaguered refs.

But will we hear Lawro and Co condemning this blatant dissent? Will they shame the cheats, the divers and the fakers - and will they lambast the managers who let them get away with it, week after week?

Well, don't hold your breath, box-watchers, because I reckon they'll be too busy singing the praises of their old mates in the business.

Why does this matter, you might ask - it's entertainment, a 21st century pantomime with heroes and villains, big business, there to win viewers and sell newspapers, satellite dishes, replica shirts and tooth-rotting fizzy drinks.

To which I'd reply, no it's not - it's about sport, playing the game the right way, doing the right thing. And it's not a million miles removed from the disgraceful attack reported on the front page of yesterday's Daily Echo, where local ref Keith Lashmar, from Moordown, Bournemouth, was hospitalised after being assaulted by a player in a five-a-side game at the Roko complex.

Businessman Mr Lashmar, 36, has suffered from headaches and memory loss since the attack in June, and says the trauma has blighted his life.

Daniel Bailey, 20, of Keeble Road, Bournemouth, hit the ref, according to his brief, because it was "a very highly charged and competitive game... he was angry and upset, frustrated that the referee would not listen to his part."

Well, tough. The FA have banned Bailey for life, which is only right, but if they can come down so hard on a humble storeman, why are they often so lenient with the Premiership's pampered prima donnas?

There is a clear and indisputable link between the antics of the stars and the often foul-mouthed and violent goings-on at the lower levels, like a kick-about in Kinson - just don't expect the nation's broadcaster to tell you about it.