CYCLING: Tour’s je ne sais quoi is so French and so irresistible

Le fountain of knowledge: Phil Liggett makes ITV4's coverage stand out

If it is Gary Imlach at the helm, Chris Boardman at his side, Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen in the commentary box then it must be the greatest sporting spectacle in the world, now sadly but understandably relegated to ITV4, home of 'Cops with Cameras', 'Police, Camera, Action!' and 'The Sweeney'.

Of course, it is also available, even more extensively, on British Eurosport but that would involve having to put up with the eccentric dress sense and nonsense of David Duffield.

I love the Tour de France.

Never mind the fact that the great cycling names of the past have either retired, been banned or are spending their days pedalling in courtrooms around the world; never mind that the race has, over the years, been discredited by scandal; never mind that the winner usually loses the race after widdling into a bottle; never mind the performance enhancing drugs.

There, I've said it. You can get out your green pens and lined paper and scrawl words like shame and disgrace all over your letters.

I love the Tour de France. I love the colour, the scenery, the mountains and the valleys, the French phrases and the gastronomic references.

I love that every year I can sit down, turn on the television and gulp down a beaker full of the warm south, to borrow the memorable words of John Keats.

I just need to hear Liggett on the selfless labour of a 'domestique' or find out from Sherwen that the 'peloton' is 'groupé' and I am lost in a world of yellow jerseys and red lanterns. (What other event could invent such imagery for the person who finishes last?)

That accordion music which prefaces ITV Sport's daily coverage. It is so cliched, so stereotypical, so beret and onions.

Yet a few bars of it and I am quickly online trying to book the next ferry crossing to Caen and fingering through the Michelin restaurant guide for the best place to eat a bouillabaisse.

Liggett needs only to talk about a cyclist 'dancing on his pedals in a most immodest way' and I start to think about taking my rusted and spider-covered bike to the local shop for a service.

Sometimes I go as far as blowing up the deflated tyres. Most times not. We began in majestic Brittany on Saturday and will leave there for the Massif Central on Tuesday, en route to the Pyrenees.

A few hot days in Provence are assured before some high octane climbing in the Alps. We will eventually arrive in Paris on July 27 for a bumpy spin along the cobbled streets of the Champs-Elysees.

And thanks to Liggett and Co we won't have to get out of our seats. The Tour de France is much more than a great bike race.

It is much more than a travelogue, though of course it is certainly that. It is an escape from standing-room only commuting, an escape from the M25 or any of this country's other clogged motorways, an escape from the transfer market and the pre-season friendlies.

And it will all be over all too quickly. 'Echappe terminee', as the Tour radio pronounces when the main group catches up with the breakaway riders. Escape ended.