They say there's no fool like an old fool.

And while I admit to being the oldest I've ever been, I've never regarded myself as being a fool.

Until now.

For If you can fool some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time, surely it must follow that you can fool some of the people by quarter time, but all of the people by half-time.

And here we are marking time at the half-way mark of the season.

Taken for fools.

All of us.

For, if silence is golden, and empty vessells make the most noise, then a tree has just fallen in footy's forest. And no-one saw it.

Did it make a noise?

Yes. The silence was deafening.

Drowned out only by the sound of one hand clapping.

Who's hand?

That's right,The League's.

And why only one hand clapping?

Because the other one has us in it's palm.

Sad, golden, empty, deafened fools.

Unimportant. Uninformed.

Sure we know Essendon and Collingwood play at the G on Friday the 13th, comforting for the superstitious amongst us.

We know Freo and Port go head to head at Subi' in round 13.

But thankfully there are two other games played that day.

We know September brings the finals, big men in small cars will be driven down city streets looking embarrassed, and footy wives and girlfriends are taken out of mothballs for the Brownlow count.

But league, why so silent? Suddenly, nothing's happening. We know you don't have mushroom for sentiment, but don't keep us in the dark.

Come on Andrew, enlighten us.

We need to know.

Who will be singing at this year's Grand Final??!!

I'm Billy and I'm boiling.