EVERY dog has his day - but this should not apply to David Ginola.

Having narrowly missed out on winning the best of breed for French poodles at Crufts, he is apparently in line for the PFA players' player of the year award.

I hate poodles.

With their poncey little curls and glossy coats, excuse for a bark and wimpy scampering, your average poodle couldn't chew its way through a wet roll of Andrex. Give me a dog that afraid isn't to dirty its paws or give the odd moggy a run for its life.

But I hate Ginola even more than poodles.

With his flowing locks and pouting lips, affected French accent and a better dive than Jacques Cousteau, Ginola epitomises everything wrong with foreigners in the English game.

"I am a footballer, not a movie star," he whispers seductively in his TV shampoo ad. Pah!

He might as well be an actor, the amount of time he spends practising his dying swan theatricals.

"I let my football do the talking," was his response to an interview after his goal at Barnsley on Tuesday. Funny that. He seemed quite happy for his vocal chords to do the talking when Alan Hansen wanted to investigate his millionaire lifestyle on a documentary the same night, lounging imperiously in a Roller, blonde on arm and on his way to a movie premiere.

He wasn't quite so smug when he sulked his way through the BBC's coverage of the World Cup and snubbed the French celebrations to brood alone in his bedroom over Aime Jacquet's disastrous decision to leave Ginola out of the French squad.

On his day, Ginola is unquestionably a genius and his workrate compares favourably with similarly gifted players such as David Beckham or Dennis Bergkamp.

But when the chips are down, Ginola reverts to type - a mard cheat.

And this is the man that fellow professionals are set to honour with their most prestigious award.

His closest contender, Emmanuel Petit, is little better than a hatchet man.

The profession could do a lot worse than to restore some of its poor reputation than to rally round a true professional like Tony Cottee at Leicester.

Dwight Yorke has done little wrong since his move to Old Trafford - there are few players who play with as consistent a smile on their face.

But my vote would go to substitute Liverpool goalkeeper Brad Friedel for the modest way the American copes with his stunning good looks.

Neil Bramwell is the Sports Editor

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