Bryan Matthews

So, we’re at about the halfway point in the 2022 Fifa World Cup and, while I’m delighted that England have yet to deliver our customary quadrennial disappointment, it pains me to say that a competition winner might already be emerging – and, in spite of its feeble performances on the field, it could be Qatar. I had wanted to stay as outraged throughout the tournament as I had been when the Qatar decision was announced. But then the football got really good and the fans in the stadiums were clearly having a great time and my resolve crumbled faster than Harry Kane could stick a One Love armband back into his kitbag. Qatar is getting exactly what it wanted: global airtime with billions watching in rapture.

For Ferdinand ‘Bongbong’ Marcos Jr, the frontrunner for Monday’s Philippine presidential election, a reframing of the country’s past has been crucial to securing his future. Last week, he reminded a television audience what a ‘political genius’ his late father, the dictator Ferdinand Marcos Sr, was. Bongbong’s revisionist history has infuriated many Filipinos but, it seems, resonated with many more. Polls show that he has a 30-point lead over his closest rival, the current vice-president Leni Robredo, though she has drawn massive crowds and expects a late surge of support.

As a footballer, I’m elderly not elite, meaning that I’m one of 60,000 or so 50- to 92-year-olds (yep, 92!) in England who enjoy a more pedestrian version of the sport than the Premier League’s whippersnappers. A survey last year revealed that for many of us ‘walking footballers’, the sport is our most significant social interaction of the week. So while the Premier League continued through the winter, I was — to use footballer lingo — sick as a parrot when we somewhat older, rather slower players were red-carded by the government. Conversely, I was over the moon at the end of last month when we were allowed to return to the pitch. The walking game precludes running (the clue’s in the name) or play above head height.

The government wants us back in the office — catching trains, buying sandwiches and actually seeing colleagues and clients rather than video facsimiles. But if we’re going to meet in person, we need agreement on a professional nicety more substantive than the feeble wave that has passed for a Zoom greeting. Unless you’re fearless or forgetful, the handshake has been mothballed since March. What Masons now do is anyone’s guess (and their closely guarded secret). It’s probably been disarming for Donald Trump, who had weaponised press-fleshing even with allies — witness that 30-second shake-off with Emmanuel Macron and extended grip-and-grins with Justin Trudeau. In business too, mano-a-mano extremists are often American.

August, as usual, will be the busiest month for Britain’s amusement parks — which is odd when you consider that this will mean thousands of people who have been sitting indoors trying to avoid sickness now lining up for seats expressly designed to induce nausea. There are amusement parks and there are theme parks. The latter often have rides named after movie franchises — or perhaps Peppa Pig — and can charge more for merchandise. Otherwise, the g-force and junk food experiences are similar and there’s one common theme: waiting. I took my teenage daughter to Surrey’s Thorpe Park shortly after its recent re-opening in the stupid belief that the cap on visitor numbers would easily compensate for socially distanced seating formations.