Terry Butcher: This Tynecastle soap opera has got to stop

I'VE spent the last few days filming a secret advert for Carlsberg which is due for release in the lead-up to England's World Cup campaign in Germany next summer.

I can't say too much because I'm bound by a confidentiality agreement and if I break it I have to take the unwanted Hearts job, so I'm not going there.

What I can say is that I had a great time meeting former England team-mates and, believe me, the ad is hilarious.

My only complaint is that mad Jack Charlton, who had to drive a transit van in the ad, is in serious need of some driving lessons before he kills someone.

One thing the filming helped me to decide was that I am never taking up acting.

I used to wonder why actors got paid so much money but I'm telling you, after about 100 takes on a 30-second segment, I began to realise why.

I probably spent two days solid doing the filming and, despite what my players think about me being publicity mad, I've no intention of pursuing a career in films.

As usual I got some ridiculous stick from my players on Friday after I commentated on Bolton's UEFA Cup game on Thursday night. The heavens opened on the night and I was trying to be witty in my commentary, which went horribly wrong. One of the lads said to me 'don't give up your day job, whatever that is'. Damn cheek.

Predictably, all the talk in Scotland is about Hearts who are now nothing short of a laughing stock.

I said last week that anyone considering that job would either have to be stupid or at best desperate. And that statement was confirmed when I heard last night that Graham Rix is going to be unveiled as the new manager today.

The events of the past week have defied belief.

The sacking of chief executive Phil Anderton and resignation of chairman George Foulkes came as no real surprise.

As for Foulkes, someone once said to me that you should never trust a politician and his admission that he was briefed to do a job on George Burley will hardly enhance his credibility with anyone.

I feel desperately sorry for the Hearts fans and the players. It must be like living life inside a soap opera.

Vladimir Romanov has completely lost the plot and is in urgent need of medical assistance.

How the club have fallen from grace in recent weeks. I have no idea how they came up with Rix as their new boss, but at least I've got off the hook and won't have to eat a plate of something horrible now.

On a lighter note, we are playing in the quarter-finals of the CIS Cup against Aberdeen on Tuesday evening and as yet I haven't informed our physio, John Porteous, that I've agreed to allow the BBC to wire him up so they can track his movements throughout the game.

Worse still, I have allowed them to put cameras in the dressing room so I've got to be on my best behaviour.

I'm not stupid, they are hoping it all kicks off and I smash the dressing room up.

I'm sure it will make for compelling viewing but believe me, if it does go off, the first thing that's going is the TV camera.

I'm confident I can restrain myself sufficiently to avoid that but, as I've said in the past, once the red mist descends I have no control over my emotions and anything that gets in the way is game for a kicking.

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