There was a time when sport was played for fun and self-entertainment and for the entertainment of the handful and sometimes more, people who might come to support and enjoy.

In today’s world of fake news, it is important to know the facts and therein lies the problem. The dictionary definition of a fact is an event or thing that is known to have happened.

Putin tells the world, what we already know, that he has a nuclear arsenal that could destroy the world as we know it.

In the good old days when you could rely on the Bible to come up with solutions to any sort of damnable problem. Life was simple.

Some time back, my regular readers may recall, there was a report in the Sunday Times about a Russian spy in the Dáil. It created a bit of a furore at the time and I did a bit of a pi** take around the necessity for any Russian scare.

Well, in my opinion, it’s great to be back. For the past while I have been in Mayo University Hospital (MUH) dealing with some medical issues.

I very rarely intrude on the world of association football. It is not something that I know much about. I watch Irish teams. Football, rugby, men women, and will them to win.

When you see and hear the news that Charlie Kirk, a Trump supporter and advocate of free speech (mostly his free speech!) has been shot and killed by a lone shooter at a University campus in Utah you begin to think that America is a dangerously sick ...

So the Russians tried to inconvenience Ursula von der Leyen as she flew into Bulgaria.

Summer has come and gone and we are now into autumn.

So there appears to be some life left in Fianna Fáil.  Following my call here two weeks ago for bland Micheál to be selected to run for the Áras, there has been the stirrings of life among the party’s TDs. Hardly a groundswell but a movement.

Al Jazeera is an independent television channel based in Qatar but has an international reach. It was set up to draw attention to the Arab speaking world and extended its reach by introducing an English language version in more recent times.

I ran out of space last week before getting to the main point of the discourse on Fianna Fáil in disarray (this could turn into a work of friction, there’s lots left to talk about!), which is that the largest political party in the country seems ...

It must be all of sixty years ago that the first cracks appeared in that great bastion of male Irish hegemony - no, not the Catholic church - the Gaelic Athletic Association.

There’s no fool like an old fool. There was I saluting Mr Trump for trying to secure peace between Ukraine and Russia. I should have known better.

Jimmy McGuinness, the Donegal GAA team manager, made few friends in the run-up to the recent Donegal v Mayo championship game played in Dr Hyde Park. Perhaps he made friends in Donegal but he had plenty of friends there to begin with.

I’ve been taking note of the number of people who have ruled themselves out as contenders for the role of Uachtaráin when the present incumbent, the great Michael D, steps down for a well-earned rest later in the year.

It’s hard to know where to start. Captain Boyle in O’Casey’s Juno and the Paycock got it correct over 100 years ago when he announced that the whole world “is in a state of chassis”.

We lost a great and wonderful man last week. Paul Durcan was born in Dublin but he was a Mayo man at heart. He was a poet for the ages. More prolific than Kavanagh, less serious than Heaney, Durcan was Ireland’s most entertaining poet.

I’m not a fan of Facebook, or any social media for that matter. I’m not a follower and I’m not followed. Some time back, perhaps as many as 20 years ago, I made a heroic effort to stop Facebook telling the world that my birthday falls on May 1st.

I had my mind made up that I would not go to the Connacht Final. It would be too much hassle and I did not expect much from Mayo.

My stay in Mayo University Hospital coincided with that of Pope Francis while he was being treated for double pneumonia in Rome. Now, I’m not making any comparisons, just pointing out a fact.

I don’t know about you people out there, but I think it’s great to be back. The Return of Loftus at Large went missing from the WP for a number of weeks, a good number of weeks, due to issues - as they say in the best of circles - beyond my control.

You know you are getting on when you can recall the day that you could buy eight pints for a pound, or was it a punt (for younger readers, the punt was old Irish currency, pre-euro) and could, after a hard game of handball, drink those pints before ...

Well, talk about a hectic few days.

I thought I might say a few words for the crow. The crow generally gets a bad press.

I was clearing out stuff the other day and strangely I came to feel for Imelda Marcos.

I have been inundated - well, not really - but I have had a few responses questioning my folly in suggesting that county and club team managers may have ended up out of pocket because of their involvement managing teams.

‘Tis the season to be jolly and we have much to be jolly about. There’s a lot of sadness and badness in the world but Santa has his bag full and will soon be on his way bringing delight, surprises and happiness to all and sundry.

My poor battered Palestinian flag, flying at Chez Loftus for this past year, in solidarity with the battered, broken people of the Gaza Strip is, as can be seen from the photo, in bad shape.

First things first. The Irish flag is not a rag to be wrapped around the shoulders of individuals of the far right (mainly) or indeed protestors of whatever colour or clique who wish to challenge the current order, not to mention the law of the land.

I take my election duties seriously.

Snow, snow, beautiful, glorious snow.

The thought struck me that the General Election has got the lads and lassies up off their asses in the Dáil and walking, in some cases running, to meet the electorate.

I often wonder if I am alone in my frustration with RTÉ’s coverage of the news. Just now, my big crib is with the coverage of the US election.

I took a trip the other day to Dublin and ventured into Croke Park, on the Friday evening, to see for myself the outcome of Jim Gavin’s committee on a new way forward for the game of Gaelic football.

These are tough times to be a woman in politics. Especially a woman with ambitions to lead. Mary Lou’s ambition to be our next Taoiseach was never really on, barring an extraordinary set of unfortunate events falling down on the ruling coalition.

So the old Rooskies (the lads from Russia, not the Roscommon lads who are absolved from any involvement at this time) have infiltrated the Dáil and have installed a spy in the highest (lowest?) echelons of Irish society. This is disgraceful.

It is probably not an Irish thing but we are good at it. I’m talking about our penchant for adopting and adhering to good ideas for a while and then slowly but steadily wavering and then completely ignoring the good idea.

The primary task for the next government is to design, build and administer the necessary structures whereby the equitable, just and even distribution of the wealth of the nation is guaranteed.

I don’t know about you people out there but if this Indian Summer lasts much longer, I’ll have to relocate.

Dear reader, Life is good. Once we accept that death, the final arbiter, is part of life, then we can, with more clarity, accept that we are pretty fortunate.

The departure of Ballina’s most famous son, Joe Biden, from the US presidential race has opened up the opportunity for a woman to become the first-ever female President of the United States of America.