Adieu Jack Warner, but beware the next generation of Fifa supervillains

Rather like tyrannical dictators, who don't expect to die quietly in their beds, one somehow never expected Jack Warner's professional death to happen offstage in press releases and leaked reports. After all, only a few weeks ago the Fifa vice-president was threatening to unleash "a football tsunami", so at the very least one expected him to open fire like Tony Montana at the top of the staircase at Fifa's Zurich HQ, or even advance out of the building in his pyjamas and dressing gown, unloading endless submachine gun rounds, in the manner of Albert Finney in Miller's Crossing. Instead, a spot of bother with the ethics committee appears to have persuaded Warner to pension himself off, presumably because he wants to spend less time with what Sepp Blatter calls "the Fifa family". Lovely as it is to see the back of him, I do feel cheated, just as I would if Ernst Stavro Blofeld resigned from S.P.E.C.T.R.E. to devote more time to the cat show circuit.