HOW old will Prince William be on his birthday this Saturday? Ah yes, 21. Hasn't he yet got a tongue in his head? Can't he speak for himself? How long will Dad have to do it for him?

The Prince's disregard of the speed limit on Lord Bathurst's estate, where he overtook another vehicle which happened to be driven by Lord Bathurst himself, reveals impatience and selfishness. And for the apology to be delivered not by the Prince but his father just about takes the biscuit.

How many people reading this weren't at some point in their childhood rebuked by their parents for a misdemeanour towards someone else with the words: "And you will apologise personally." A chastening experience. Good for the soul.

But hey, we're talking kids of perhaps 11 or 12 here. Come Saturday William is a grown man, even on the long timescale of older generations. Still sheltering behind dad. The man born to be king. You wouldn't have wanted to entrust your life to him at Agincourt, would you? Yet plainly a thruster behind the wheel.

WE can't have a referendum on the euro, which many of us would like. But, up here in the North anyway, we can have a referendum on the future of local government.

Has anyone been calling for a vote on creating regional councils, sorry assemblies? Apart from a few local-government worthies who probably see an opportunity to increase their power, the answer is No. But with its usual spin, the Government announces that the North-East, Yorkshire and Humberside and the North West, are to be "allowed" to hold referendums - as though this has been the people's dearest wish.

The idea that the regional assemblies offer self-government is seductive. But comparisons with Scotland and Wales are an insult to Scotland and Wales. The North-East is not a nation. Nor even is Yorkshire and Humberside. Parity with Scotland and Wales requires an English Parliament. But no referendum is offered on that.

Regional bodies will remove local government further from the people. Town will dominate country. And the identity of the historic counties will be further blurred. A North-East Parliament will be a glorious gravy train for those on it. Right - let's have the referendum and kick it out.

DISARMINGLY modest, the great Australian fast bowler of the 1970s, Dennis Lillee, whose run-up presented one the most thrilling and formidable spectacles ever seen on a cricket field, confesses he is "faintly embarrassed" at still being feted.

"It amuses me that people only seem to remember my good performances, not the times I was out there not bowling well, the wicket was dead or the batsman was on top." Well, here's one of those occasions.

At the Scarborough Festival, Dennis stormed in against Yorkshire's opening bat Martyn Moxon, now Durham's director of coaching. Martyn stood up erect and clattered him to the square cover boundary for two consecutive fours, followed by more runs. At the end of the over Dennis went and sat among the crowd.

Great man. And, incidentally, the very essence of festival cricket, now just about extinct.

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