The good news in the advertisement for the post of “Chief Executive, The Football Association” (“London/Wembley - significant six-figure salary plus bonus and benefits”) comes at the end. “It is not essential,” the ad says, “that you come from a sports/football background.” The successful applicant could merely have “an understanding and an empathy with football”. Brilliant, no? That's millions of us.

Indeed, I thought about applying for the job. Unfortunately, though, the advert was published the morning after I had watched Chelsea lose on penalties at home to Burnley in the Carling Cup, after which it was obvious to me that I didn't understand anything at all about football, or even empathise with it. So, that's me out.

You go ahead, though. Pile on in. Whack over that CV now (apply@nolanpartners.co.uk). The closing date for applications is November 21. Who knows? Play the interview right and by Christmas you could be “providing executive leadership and direction” as “a key spokesperson” at the game's governing body, the organisation “responsible for developing the game at all levels from grass roots through to the professional game, the FA Cup and the England international team”.

Hats off to the FA, then, for keeping a broad mind about the successor to Brian Barwick. But hats back on again for an advert that makes the job sound so phenomenally boring. No disrespect to Nolan Partners, the executive head-hunting firm, but that is one knuckle-chewingly dull piece of prose. Huge chunks of it are corporate blather and dead wood - “effective”, “leadership and direction”, “collaborative working relationships”.

We learn that the successful applicant will need to create “a strong performance culture” and “a culture of strong internal effectiveness”. (There are more cultures in these grey paragraphs than in a student's fridge.) We hear about “the implementation and execution of the agreed vision and strategic goals” and about “cohesive organisation focused on consistent delivery and continuous improvement”. The eyes glaze over, the Jobs section drops from the hands.

And guess what? They're looking for someone with “an ability to grasp relevant issues”. But when was an ability to grasp irrelevant issues ever likely to land you a significant six-figure salary at the sharp end of a high-profile business with a £240million annual turnover? Well, OK, maybe, to a certain extent, at the FA under Adam Crozier. But not really otherwise.

In short, this recruitment ad is a snore-a-thon. There's not even a hint that you will be working in London's glamorous Soho Square among some of the hottest PAs ever to consult Max Clifford for advice. There's no suggestion that this role grants you tickets to almost any game you care to think of, plus the chance, every now and again, to cop a properly up-close look at Cheryl Cole. Not to mention access to all the padded Umbro coats a man could want.

Equally, there is precious little in the published advertisement about the job's dark side. Yes, it's about “leading the execution of a clear ongoing strategy for Wembley Stadium consistent with that of the overall FA strategy”. Yet the recent history of the chief executive post suggests that it's also about having a torrid time of it in the red tops. Rather than looking all starchy and evasive about that, the job description could have made a playful allusion to it. Something like this: “Where do you see yourself in five years' time? Somewhere else altogether, having tried to stitch up the England manager in order to spare yourself some tabloid heat? We certainly hope not!”

Then it could have lightened up and gone on to mention those covetable England international trips, with their chance to sample the complimentary fruit baskets and de luxe toiletries of some of the world's finest spa hotels, in tandem with the sheer visceral thrill of having Stuart Pearce's mobile number on speed dial.

At the same time, there is no point misleading anyone. The chief executive's role isn't a total joyride. Anyone who fancies himself as “a key ambassador” at the FA has to ask himself, in all honesty, how many times in any year he really wants to have to visit the National Football Centre in Burton upon Trent.

Moreover, more likely than not, your duties will oblige you to accompany Fabio Capello to a midweek game in Middlesbrough, where you will have to look pleased to be there, or, at least, intelligently engaged, just in case the television cameras pick you out, as they inevitably will. So, a paragraph or two at the end of the advertisement would have been appropriate, with a view, at the very least, to heading off a few of the time-wasters. Something along the lines of this: “No word of a lie, it will occasionally be your duty, normally at cup finals, to chaperone members of the Royal Family who would patently rather be watching rugby with their pals Biffer and Squinty. And if it turns your forehead numb just thinking about that prospect, you might want to wonder whether you are genuinely the go-to guy here.”

Ask anyone in recruitment and they'll say the same: there's no harm in telling it like it is.

Ian Poulter fashions poor excuse for withdrawal

I'm struggling with this Ian Poulter story. The Open Championship runner-up with the high tolerance for shocking trousers gets his driver stolen during a tournament in Shanghai. (That's “driver” as in the big golf club, rather than the bloke responsible for ferrying him between the hotel and the course, in case you were wondering.) He then orders another one, but because it won't be ready until Sunday at the earliest, he pulls out of the Barclays Singapore Open, a tournament worth £3.3million, Asia's richest national open.

Well, you wouldn't want to tackle the tricky Serapong course at the Sentosa Golf Club without a driver, I suppose. And I guess that just using the three-iron and really going for it, swing-wise, was out of the question, too.

But are we really being asked to believe that Poulter couldn't find himself a golf club at a golf tournament? I've been to golf tournaments. There's normally a tented and caravan-strewn area where you can buy little else. Or what about the other players? Wouldn't someone have had a spare driver knocking around? Poulter could even have asked among the spectators. Someone, surely, would have had something in the boot of their car that he could have used.

Sure, he might have wanted to customise it a bit - golfers can be fussy like that - but how long does it take to change the grip and slap on one of those head covers in the shape of Garfield?

I think the fabled “Peacock of the Fairways” could have found another driver if he'd really wanted to. And it's a poor workman who blames the fact that his tools have been nicked.

A new and defining high for darts

It's the breakthrough that darts connoisseurs have been crying out for. We can exclusively reveal that, this Christmas, the PDC World Championship at Alexandra Palace, North London, will be broadcast in high definition for the first time.

About time, too. Darts has been invited puzzlingly late to the HD party. In the early and experimental stages of its life, this exactingly precise technology has mostly been reserved for the likes of football, cricket and Bleak House. Yet anyone could see that a picture dispersal system that could crisply vivify David Attenborough's encounters with whales (to snatch that example out of the air) would have so much to offer the viewing experience in and around the oche.

Now all of us will all be able to see Peter “One Dart” Manley in the sort of detail hitherto known only to his wife, Crissy. Not for the faint-hearted? When was darts ever for the faint-hearted? Bring it on.