IN these lazy, hazy days of high summer, I found myself extremely grateful on Tuesday night that I wouldn't have to endure any more Twenty20 cricket as Durham failed to qualify for the semi-finals.

For those of us who appreciate the way a four-day game shifts and evolves, this frothy stuff quickly loses its appeal.

But we are, of course, as much a minority as the Flat Earth Society, which is why 15,000 people will pack Trent Bridge for finals day, especially with the chance to listen to Atomic Kitten afterwards. I gather they are a female pop group.

Residents of St John's Wood did not wish to have their eardrums assailed by Atomic Kitten, which is why finals day is not at Lord's. Perhaps Londoners have to suffer enough noise, congestion and general hubbub, which could be why Wimbledon continues to offer the very antithesis of Twenty20 cricket.

The 40,000 people a day who attend the All England Club throughout the championships can sit peacefully at court 19 all day, sipping their Pimms and eating their strawberries.

For those who brave the rush hour to get to Twenty20's 5.30pm start, however, once they've been stuck in traffic they just have time to visit the loo, eat a burger and it's almost time to get stuck in traffic again.

Durham's final match against Lancashire was awful. The Old Trafford square looked scruffy - possibly because they've had a Bruce Springsteen concert there - and the worn pitch used for the match was not at all what you'd want for this sort of contest.

The contrast between Twenty20 and Wimbledon is interesting. Cricket feels it has to move with the times to survive, but what of tennis?

The diehard fans would doubtless choke on their Pimms if methods of jazzing up Wimbledon were suggested. But it is obvious from our continuing lack of talent that the annual bout of Henmania is not enough to inspire youngsters to have a serious crack at the game.

ALL five British girls lost in the first round of the Wimbledon women's singles, while ten of the 18 whose surnames ended in ova also bit the early dust.

Unfortunately, there was never a chance of the two pin-ups among them, Maria Sharapova and Daniela Hantuchova, meeting in a clash which would have provoked a photographers' frenzy.

They were in opposite sides of the draw with too many intervening hurdles such as the Williams sisters.

Then there's Kim Clijsters and Justine Henin-Hardenne, whose rise to stardom has greatly simplified the old task of naming three famous Belgians. How can they produce such luminaries while for our girls it's ova and out in the first round?

IT looks like it's time to disown our famous Canadians. Greg Rusedski will have to be repatriated after his foul-mouthed outburst at Wimbledon and the glory Lennox Lewis has brought to his adopted country looks on the point of expiry.

Actually, it strikes me Lewis has had a raw deal. Given the amount of criticism he took after beating Vitali Klitschko you'd have thought he never landed a punch. But that certainly wasn't the message conveyed by the gory state of the Ukrainian's face.

When someone standing 6ft 10in beats the defending Wimbledon champion in the first round, size is everything.

But not when Lewis tips the scales at 18st 4lb. That means he's overweight and hasn't trained properly.

Personally, I don't give a monkey's because heavyweight boxing has long been a farce and, in America at least, it is in its death throes because all the big lads now know there's any easier buck to be made from basketball or baseball.

Lewis should have quit after beating Mike Tyson, when he had nothing left to prove and could have slipped into a dignified retirement before age started to take its toll.

GIVEN his form coming into Wimbledon, it was no great surprise when Leyton Hewitt lost in the first round. But it was good to see another Aussie being humbled after the glorious triumph of our rugby lads in Melbourne last Saturday.

There were the usual jibes about England always peaking between World Cups, but Clive Woodward and his men give the impression they have everything perfectly mapped out, even to the extent of going on to Perth to check the facilities for their opening games in October.

It seemed the Aussies had picked a thuggish centre at fly half to nobble Jonny Wilkinson, who is the one man in the team who cannot adequately be replaced.

The ploy failed, and as long as Jonny stays fit there will be no stopping this marvellously spirited bunch.

ON THE way home from the Twenty20 cricket last Friday I happened to tune into Phil Tufnell's Cricket Circus on Radio Five Live. I stood it for five minutes, during which it struck me that if you took out the word "mate" there wouldn't be much left.