You must look outside the Prem for old-fashioned values

Only once a year do I wear a tie. Loads of invites arrive all the time, embossed stiffies from Buck House, the British Library, Durham University, Tottenham Hotspur, saying black tie or similar, all of which go straight in the bin.

OK, the Spurs invite doesn't mention ties but it does say champagne and canapés at six, carriages at 10.30, which sounds equally poncey. I wondered if it might be to unveil José as new manager, or more likely the return of Christian Gross. But it was for the world premiere of a film, being shown on 27 September on the biggest screen in the UK, to celebrate, wait for it . . . pant, pant . . . Spurs's 125th birthday.

I used to have an evening suit, last worn about 20 years ago when my wife was a Booker judge and I got invited to the dinner. Last year I gave it away to Oxfam in Kentish Town. I left it on their doorstep one Sunday evening. Next day, going past on the C2 bus, I saw it in the front window, resplendent on a mannequin. It looked excellent. I felt a slight flutter, thinking of where it had been, how life has moved on, hello death. The C2 has that effect on passengers.

The annual wearing of the tie takes place at the beginning of each season, when I get invited into the directors' box at Carlisle United by my friend David Clark (Lord Clark, a member of Tony's first cabinet). They are very strict about proprieties in the lower divisions. I'm always told a collar and tie must be worn. I should think so. That Abramovich chappie is a disgrace, wearing jeans to watch Chelsea. As for that new owner of Newcastle, I had to look away when I spotted him in the directors' box in a nasty, sweaty Newcastle United top.

The lower divisions are also keeping the English language alive. In the Prem dressing rooms, it will soon totally die out, with foreign owners, foreign managers, all-foreign teams.

That day, there was only one foreigner in the CUFC team, Zigor Aranalde, who is Basque. Peter Murphy, not playing that day, is Irish. Out of the 25 in the first-team squad, 23 are English. Most are from the north, with quite a few from Cumbria itself.

At half-time, David and I discussed whether we could class Stephen Hindmarch as English. He was born in Penrith, so a native Cumbrian, but note the spelling of the surname. The chances are his ancestors came from Germany in the 1500s to work in the Borrowdale lead mines. But we decided 500 years here gave him residential status. I've always believed Paul Scholes is of German extraction for the same reason.

One new Carlisle player who caught my eye was 19-year-old Joe Garner. He's come from Blackburn Rovers, a product of their academy. This is happening more often, all over the lower leagues. Prem clubs spend millions on their academies, which turns out to be a total waste of money and human flesh, as the youngsters can't get a game. Garner looked a bit weedy, but was skilful and willing and has probably found the best level to develop, if he can survive a good kicking every game.

That day, they were playing Oldham, who fielded two ex-Prem players, Mark Crossley and Michael Ricketts. Ricketts was a sad sight, lumbering about, but one feels happy for such players, eased out by new, young foreign stars, given a temporary home and a modest wage.

So, you see, the lower leagues do serve a purpose - keeping up standards, offering shelter. Oh, the UK's biggest screen? The O2, formerly the Dome. But you knew that.

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