LAST WEEK, Richard Scudamore, chief executive of the English Premier League, deployed the excuse beloved by all those who have ever done anything dodgy, despicable or daft. Subvert the old tournament, devalue the precious brand, and turn the game in England into a laughing stock? If we don't do it, said Scudamore, "they will".

Who will? Who in Europe or beyond proposes to tack an extra game apiece on to a cherished national league and flog said ties to the fans in Bangkok, Beijing or Boston? The Italians? Spain? That's as likely as Alex Ferguson taking an anger management course.

The proposal, shot to pieces by everyone from Michel Platini to the Mirror via supporters' groups the length of England, is potty. Obviously. The chances are that it will never come to fruition. But the fact that it has even been discussed is revealing. Finally, once and for all, the fans can be under no illusions. What do they think of you? Not much.

The clubs, all 20 of them, voted unanimously for what quickly became known as the 39th Step. For the sake of perhaps £5 million each they forgot about over-crowded fixture lists, the English national team, and those funny little people who buy all those lovely replica shirts at truly competitive prices. They also forgot about the very league - its nature, its basis and its point - that gave them the brand they are so eager to debauch.

Scudamore reckons that adding an extra match to everyone's fixture list for the sake of the export market will only upset the symmetry of the league by one 39th. It's a bit like saying that the world's most competitive tournament will only become slightly useless.

The chief executive concedes that the top four will probably have to be seeded for this annual January panto, of course, and that there will probably have to be a draw to sort out who plays whom, and where. Rare as it is for this column to sound Corinthian, since when did any self-respecting league involve seeds and a draw?

Picture it. The title race is very tight, much as it is this season. Arsenal have been breathing down Manchester United's necks since August, or vice versa. Yet what might the reaction be, after the dust settles in the spring, when it is found that United nicked the trophy thanks only to the stuffing they gave Derby in sunny Santa Monica.

Part of this elaborate joke involves the idea that the Premier League, in its entirety, is a crowd-puller on any continent you could name. The conceit is that the good folk of Singapore are just aching to watch Fulham and Wigan in the flesh. Right. The only real market, admittedly a considerable one, is for England's big four, plus perhaps two or three more. For those purposes, close-season tournaments and tours can be arranged. But isn't that what happens now?

Unless they happen to be in possession of airport executive lounge passes and a lot of air miles, the fans can draw their own conclusions. The FA, from whom a simple "no" would have sufficed, seems less able to identify sheer madness. The association may be keen on the two-week January break the Scudamore folly will require. But for these grubby purposes?

"Sorry, Fabio. Rafa's still complaining about too many international friendlies. Anyway, he says Gerrard's too jet-lagged to play after having lumps kicked out of him in Kuala Lumpur. The World Cup will have to wait."

There's nothing left to sell. Every fixture and fitting in the English game now bears a logo. Barclays pays £22 million a year just for the right to name the league. Satellite TV, destroyer of the 3pm Saturday kick-off, yields £667 million annually; overseas broadcasters kick in £625 million.

Apparently it's not enough.

The corporate boxes have meanwhile consumed all the prawn sandwiches.

Season ticket prices for the rest have purged most of the old working class. There is a limit, it turns out, to the number of times you can redesign the away strip and fleece the mugs.

Given that 10 of the 20 clubs in England's top league are now in foreign hands, talk of tradition can sound silly. The Americans, the Russians, and the interesting former prime minister of Thailand are unlikely to understand the contempt aroused by the 39th Step. They prefer a simple fact: £5m is £5m, for a single game. Still, the fans who welcomed these investors and their money are not best placed to complain if their clubs have become franchises.

They could stay at home instead.

Alternatively, if local loyalties give meaning to their lives, there is plenty of local football around. Most clubs in the lower leagues could do with the business. In any case, if your team happen to be in Australia during a freezing January, you have a choice: watch them on the Sky box, or watch a local side that appreciates an audience.

That will be the day. Down the years supporters have howled their protests over the latest sell-out and then bitten their tongues. From what I hear, even hatred for the despised Glazers has done nothing to harm attendances at Old Trafford. This is a fact of life that the clubs, indecently eager for their January windfall, understand only too well.

The government could intervene, of course. Gordon Brown and Andy Burnham, England's sports minister, have made concerned noises. But I ask you: when did new Labour last stand between a businessman and a quick profit?

My bet is that sheer practicalities and Fifa will lay this idiocy to rest. Sepp Blatter can be relied upon to oppose globalisation a-go-go. Fifa like nothing better than to lecture their members on the true spirit of the game and the need to nurture grassroots as they sprout.

Only last week, in fact, one of the governing body's spokesmen sniffed that the Premier League's plan has "more to do with money than football". Not a bit like the no-logo World Cup, then.