ON Wednesday morning (the 15th) the two most read online columns were “Dolly Parton says the coronavirus is God slapping us in the face” and “Liz Hurley claims coronavirus lockdown is scuppering her chances of finding love.”

Dolly described how the coronavirus has “brought us to our knees, which is the right place to rediscover Jesus.” She also revealed how during “an affair of the heart” she got so sad that she was going to end it all until “my little dog Popeye came running up the stairs and the tap tap tap of his little paws jolted me back to reality. I truly believe that Popeye was a spiritual messenger from God.”

All one can say is thank God for Tony Scullion, whose podcast interview with Shane Stapleton has been the highlight of the week.

Tony, who didn’t believe in stretching and used to grin and chain smoke as we did our pre-match stretch, cannot be explained in normal human words. He used to arrive at the car park of whatever ground we are training at, his car filled with smoke and Hugo Duncan belting out on his 8-track.

For younger readers, the 8-track was the forerunner of the tape and CD. It looked like an old style video-cassette that you slotted into the player. Scullion would swing in, ‘Cottage on the old Dungannon Road’ or ‘Village where I went to school’ blasting out.

For a man who never so much as looked at a weight (like Brian McGilligan), he had prodigious strength. Once, when the team was in Glasgow to play an exhibition match against Donegal, Declan Bonner was annoying him in the bar afterwards and after two or three fair warnings, Scullion – who was normally a pacifist – picked Bonner up and threw him across two tables, scattering pints. The place went silent. Bonner – lying full stretch on the floor – made it clear through his body language that he had no interest in retaliation, and we went back to our carousing. When the Donegal man was back on his feet, Scullion raised his hand and wagging his finger, said “now Declan, you were behaving badly. There was no call for that.”

With so many sporting events abandoned or postponed, readers of this column will have breathed a sigh of relief at the news this week that the 2020 World Tiddlywinks Championships will go ahead as scheduled in Denmark this August. Unfortunately for the very vocal (and often very drunken) fans of the sport, the finals will be this year be played behind closed doors in its spiritual home of Aalborg. Normally a party town when the tiddlywinks carnival descends upon it, this year it will be competitors and TV crews only.

Big Train once did a series of sketches on The World Staring Championship. These consisted of crude pencil drawings on a piece of paper of two opponents staring at each other across a table. BBC Sport’s Barry Davies provided the voice over commentary for the championship, his voice filled with tension.

Barry: Well here we are, all set for the final. Joining me in the commentary box is of course David Joyce.

David: Hello Barry. Hello everyone.

Barry: Got a bet on Campaniola David?

David: Oh ho ho ho, I’m not sure about that one Barry.

Barry: The 14th seed has certainly shocked a lot of people to get this far, but it has to be said it is no fluke. Some big names have fallen to him, most notably the sixth seed from India, Annan Nanak, in a classic semi-final. His opponent, legendary six-time champion Spatsky is justifiably the heavy favourite. Just look at the level of his concentration already David. (The camera zooms in on Spatsky’s enormous pencil eye-balls).

David: Many people will be very surprised to learn he’s only in his early 30s. The huge concentration required at this level has clearly taken its toll on him.

Barry: Look at the audacious eyeballing the Pole is already giving the underdog. This is extraordinary stuff, absolutely nail-biting.

David: (chuckling) The pressure is simply enormous on both players, Barry. One blink and it’s all over.

(The crowd roars) Barry: Spatsky simply pummeling the younger man now.

David: This is a great example for any young player.

Barry: (Crowd gasping) How much longer can the Italian survive this ferocious onslaught?

The Italian finally blinks, the crowd goes wild.

David: At least Campaniola has gone down fighting.

(A pencil drawing of a streaker runs across the screen) David: There is always one idiot.

A month ago, this would have seemed wacky stuff, but suddenly, staring competitions seem like quite a good idea. You can socially distance, using perhaps a perspex screen between the competitors. You can even do it online, using Zoom or Google Hangout, though precautions would need to be put in place to prevent secret blinking. Just last week, a video clip of two dogs fighting over a toy bone accompanied by a running commentary from the Scottish golf broadcaster Andrew Cotter amassed 12 million views in just two days.

The boredom is causing many to turn to drink. In Iran, where the rumour went around that strong alcohol can kill the virus, over 600 people have died in the last month due to alcohol poisoning, many drinking ethanol. Meanwhile, in the North’s prisons, the hand sanitizers had to be taken away after it was discovered the prisoners were diluting the contents with water and glugging it. The wardens became suspicious when raucous sing-songs broke out across the landings, “Come out you black and tans” thundered back at “The Sash my father wore.”

Tiddlywinks is a safer option. And if you find you have a talent for staring, then with the right level of commitment (the Polish world champion Sigmund Spatsky stares at a mirror in his house ten hours every day), you might emerge from this plague as a champion starer.