SKULLDUGGERY – what a word, what a notion – and dontcha just love it? If things are to be believed there was plenty of shady shenanigans in planet sport this week allowing genuine sports fan to lap it up and critics of all things sprightly and dutiful to tut-tut-tut to their cold heart’s content.

Of the latter breed, I really am mystified. I just cannot comprehend anyone not being moved, swayed, ensnared, enlivened, exhilarated and, yes, more often than not, exasperated by all things sporting. Wazzamatta? No soul, no blood going through your veins, no.... aarrgghhhh.

Just this week alone we’ve had tennis of the highest quality and drama, the British & Lions coach Warren Gatland doing the unthinkable by dropping the previously-thought unsinkable Brian O’Driscoll from today’s Test decider in Sydney, the Tour de France unfurling its multi-coloured and mega- sponsored serpentine tail across the Gallic lands, and, not forgetting, a man returning to work.

Yep, that’s right, just as I arrived at Walmgate Towers on Monday morning Sky Sports’ yellow streak of breaking news declared, in all seriousness: “David Moyes has arrived at Manchester United’s Carrington training ground.”

So that’s a rolling-bar revelation about a man going to work on a Monday morning. Even if it was a new job, it’s more akin to breaking wind than breaking news.

Anyhow, the world of sport is always the better for a bit of chicanery. We’re not talking about full-blown, heart-wrenching corruption and lies here – there’s always too much of that – but more little tricks and ruses and nudges designed to get an edge over an opponent or disrupt the preparation of a rival.

First up, the Tour de France. Its first of three of sport’s most gruelling weeks – and that’s just for the spectators – brought about an accusation from Team Sky that punctures suffered by some of its riders hurtling through the French terrain had been caused by... tacks.

Cue the bleeping of the roadrunner and a certain Wily Coyote once again seeing a cunning plan fail as he falls over a cliff complete with Acme-delivered package.

Sacre bleu – tacks. Now I’m not demeaning the danger of a crash in the Tour, just ask poor old Isle of Man pedal-demon Mark Cavendish after his bid for a 25th stage win was undermined by a painful collision on Thursday.

But tacks. Whatever next? The discreet spreading of velcro strips on a hairpin bend, the banning of all trios-en-un oil to any team during the course of the Tour, itching powder down the shorts?

When tacks were cited in such stentorian tones – get Monsieur Poirot or Inspector Maigret on the case – I half expected to see ITV4’s coverage reveal a stripe- jerseyed schoolboy disappearing behind some boulangerie tee-heeing as he clutched an empty box marked “carpet tacks”.

No such tomfoolery at Wimbledon, that bastion of all things proper? Think again.

After negotiating an untroubled and rather quick passage against Tomas Berdych in his quarter-final, world number one Novak Djokovic headed for a relaxing game of golf and tweeted such to Scots star Andy Murray – his likely final opponent – who had been forced to toil through five sets and more than three hours before seeing off Fernando Verdasco.

If that’s not a pesky little trick to get an edge then Dennis the Menace does not have a dog called Gnasher.

No one is immune to applying the reliance on a little psychological warfare in which to undermine a foe or boost your own ego or just provide that little extra in your armoury.

But is that just the forerunner of cheating? Purists would argue that gamesmanship is the first detour along the road to out and out cheating and it is an anorexic divide between one and t’other.

However, sport is not sport without blurred lines. Mind games are just that, games, and if you can’t combat it then perhaps you should not be in the ring, on the court, along the track, riding the wave, pedalling like fury, or pounding the pitch.

IF the above does leave a sour after-taste, then sport also has an amazing capacity for genuinely humourous and tender moments.

Centre Court was where this week’s best broke out. Realising that he had blown his chance of dumping Andy Murray out at the quarter-final stage as a 2-0 set lead slipped away, Spaniard Fernando Verdasco still accepted his exit with immense good grace and dignity when congratulating his conqueror. Sport ain’t all bad.