Well done Bradley Wiggins for winning BBC Sports Personality of the Year. You're a credit to your sport ... and a thousand and one other cliches.
Of course, to complain about "SP12" (ever unfashionable, even though the Beeb likes to convince itself it's on the street) is almost like an act of treason.
Yet, the truth is, appearance by the Duchess of Cambridge or no, it's a big ponderous bore-athon. (And should Kate have gone? While it's in no way her fault that a nurse at the hospital where she was treated committed suicide, the fact remains a chain of events began with her admission. With the heartbroken family of Jacinta Saldanha talking so movingly of their grief over the weekend, wouldn't it have been sensitive to give the show a miss?)
As it was, we had two and a half hours stuck with hundreds of whooping sportstars who knew their cues like grizzled old pros. Like some kind of cast-adrift X Factor Xtra audience they gave standing ovations like they were going out of fashion, laughed like lunatics at the unfunniest funny and looked serious at the serious bits.
I don't know what it is about Sports Personality of the Year but it always has a desperate fag-end of the year feeling about it. Vaguely sad and depressing.
Worst of all, though, is the way the Beeb relentlessly bleats on about it. Even before the Olympics were over, they were at it, each gold medal secured for the UK merely a hook to start plugging SP12 and wondering who would win it. On and on it went. How many women would be on the shortlist? How many Paralympians?
Sport is supposed to be about the drama of the unexpected. SP12 ground on for hours and, no harm to Bradley, but the outcome was as predictable and painful as a visit to the dentist.
Thrilled as he was to add SP12 to his trophy haul, how does it really compare with winning the Tour de France or Olympic gold?
Very nice and all that BBC, but, in the end, I'm sure, no contest.