'Shit, Gullit and Keys might literally realise I don't know what I am talking about'

New decade, new danger. Jamie Redknapp is taking over the airwaves...

Now that 'The Noughties' - with their terrorist atrocities, armageddon-stylee natural disasters, global economic meltdowns, Danny Dyer fronted shows about fat, borderline alcoholic men who think they are hard because they have a crap tattoo and a ill-fitting leather jacket - have disappeared into the mists of time I am focusing on the future. Although I am deeply concerned about the above catastrophes that may end human life as we know it, there is one rather more important thing that must be taken care of. For the good of all of us.

What I really want is TV execs to stop putting Jamie Redknapp on TV. For a few years now we have had to suffer his inane ramblings from the pundit's chair, as well as his lack of understanding of the English language - 'That ball literally exploded off his foot!' - but it seems the powers that be have decided we need a few extra doses of 'Brand Redknapp'.

A Thomas Cook advert has popped up on our screens starring Jamie and his wife - the worst singer in the terrible band 'Eternal' - which is quite possibly the most disgusting display of smugness ever to appear on UK TV. They roll around in the sand, whispering some pish about 'the perfect holiday' while looking into the camera with eyes that seem to say 'aren't we incredibly good looking, lying here on a beach in a place that is too expensive for the likes of you, and we can afford this because Sky give me loads of money to talk absolute shite about a game I only managed to be fit to play about four times a season'. Every time I see that advert come on I feel like vomiting down the back of my brand new 50 inch telly.  Who the hell would want to go on a holiday like that anyway?

Jamie's idea of a fun time seems to be playing golf on the beach with his top off, or playing keepie-up with his suit on while his wife lies face down in the sand drinking sea water. It would be more fun nailing your head to a mock mahogany coffee table in a chalet at Bognor Regis Butlins. At the end of the ad, they sit on the plane grinning like imbeciles, as if they are on the best flight ever. I have been on a Thomas Cook flight. It's hard to grin when you are shoe-horned into a space so tight your knees are in your eyes for the duration of the journey.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Sky have just commissioned Jamie to front their new reality show, 'Football's Next Star'. Teenage players from around the world vie for the opportunity to land a contract at Inter Milan. If they are really lucky, they might just catch a glimpse of the 'Special One' as he jumps on a plane to take him back to a cushy new job in The Premier League.

Apparently Redknapp has to give the youngsters advice on how to make it in the game. His first pearl of wisdom should be 'make sure your dad is an ex pro who becomes a manager and then uses his influence to get you a deal'. Listening to anything else Jamie says, I fear, will result in the young hopefuls literally having to give up their dream and then realising that they should have finished their studies, as there are not too many highly paid jobs out there for a boy who was quite good at PE and only has a wonky mug rack he made to show for his 11 years in education.