IF you're a football fan reading this column, you'll probably know who Ryan Giggs is. And unless you've been living under a rock for the last week, there's also a fair chance you'll know all about Imogen Thomas and the pair's alleged relationship. A super-injunction isn't so super once a Member of Parliament decides to cash in on his 15 minutes of fame.

But I'm guessing you've never heard of Trafigura, a multinational oil company that have also been the subject of a super-injunction in the last couple of years.

Their case doesn't boast the celebrity sex angle that has turned Giggs' alleged fling with Thomas into front-page news. Instead, it provides a timely reminder of why this week's events in the High Court and Houses and Parliament are absolutely crucial to the continuation of a free press in Britain.

And while it is regrettable that the sexual shenanigans of a professional footballer have sparked the first real debate about the growing conflict between a right to privacy, as enshrined in the European Convention of Human Rights, and the public's right to know what is going on in the world, as embedded within the United Kingdom's unwritten constitution, the Trafigura case underlines why Giggs' love life is merely the tip of a very alarming iceberg.

Two years ago, Trafigura were found guilty of dumping some of their waste on the Ivory Coast. The company had to pay the Ivorian government £100m to clean up the waste, then £30m to compensate the 30,000 Ivorian citizens who needed medical treatment in the wake of the incident. Last year, they were fined a further 1m Euros by a Dutch court.

If Giggs' case interests the public, this is a case with a clear public interest at its heart. Legally, there should be a difference.

Yet after listening to the evidence of the Trafigura case, a British court demanded so much secrecy that it was impossible for newspapers to even mention that the case existed. Despite the obvious severity of the issues involved, a supposed need for privacy trumped the press' right of disclosure.

The situation only changed in late 2009 when, in a precursor to this week's events involving Giggs, MP Paul Farrelly outed the issue by raising it in Parliament. The cat was out of the bag, and eventually the truth became clear.

It is hard to be too precise about the current situation for legal reasons, but let's just say I discovered the scale and range of the anonymous injunctions that are active in this country earlier this week, and I was shocked by what I found.

Some, like the Trafigura case, appear to have such a strong public interest argument surrounding them that it is hard to see why a judge would even consider neutering the press.

But in many ways, it is the more trivial issues that are most alarming, suggesting, as they do, that the courts are seeking to introduce an all-encompassing privacy law by the back door.

What might that mean for an area like sports reporting in the future? Well, take this as a hypothetical example for a start.

Mike Ashley holds a meeting to discuss his transfer policy with Alan Pardew and Derek Llambias. At the end of it, they draw up a list of targets comprising 50 names.

Ashley then goes to the High Court seeking a super-injunction preventing the disclosure of any of the names on that list because to do so would be prejudicial to the way in which he wants to run his business.

The press claim that supporters, who are wondering whether or not to buy a season ticket for the following season, have a right to know what type of team they are going to be watching.

But the judge decides that Ashley's meeting with Pardew and Llambias was private, and rules that anything discussed within it must not be reported.

No discussion about transfers, no prior warning about which players will be bought and sold, no opportunity for supporters to debate what is going on at their club on either the internet or in print.

Not quite as important as the after-effects of Ivorian oil, but an alarming scenario nevertheless.

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IT might have passed you by, but there have been two international football matches this week – Republic of Ireland vs Northern Ireland and Wales vs Scotland in the grandly-titled Carling Nations Cup at Dublin's Aviva Stadium.

To be fair, it appears to have passed the people of Dublin by too as the attendance for Scotland's 3-1 win on Wednesday was a frankly embarrassing 4,000 or so.

An international match involving two of the home nations attracting a crowd that would not have looked out of place in the Blue Square Bet Premier. Pathetic.

More would have watched had the game been staged in Cardiff or Glasgow, but it would still have been an irrelevance.

Those who argue for the annual return of the Home Internationals should remember that. The world has moved on from the 1980s, and there is now so much football that a cobbled-together tournament staged for national pride alone holds precious little appeal.

International football is struggling to swim against the Champions League tide as it is. A fully-blown Home Internationals tournament would be another nail in its coffin.

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I've said enough about the Jack Wilshere situation in a previous column, so I'm not going to labour the point too much here.

I have, however, been surprised to see so many national football writers defending Arsene Wenger's frenzied, and unfortunately successful, attempt to keep Wilshere as far away as possible for this summer's European Under-21 Championships in Denmark.

“He won't learn anything from dropping back to Under-21 level,” they say. No, that's right, much better that he keeps himself fit for that great footballing education he'll receive at Bolton on the opening weekend of next season.

Playing 50 monotonous club games in a season, or experiencing the unique pressure of taking on Spain in the opening match of a major competition. Which will be more relevant when the next World Cup rolls around?