You may be tucking into the last of the mince pies and turkey but for those who take an interest in such matters, snooker has always given me food for thought. It is high time that we questioned the game's claims to be a proper sport.

Now we may be in disagreement on this point but snooker has always occupied that dark and murky world of the smoky pub. I may be pleading ignorance here, but snooker is a game played after dominoes and shove ha’penny. It’s a leisurely activity we play out in between pints of beer and packets of crisps. For this writer, snooker is about as inspiring as watching paint dry.

Before you boil over with righteous indignation, let me make one or two points clear. There is nothing wrong with snooker. I’ve no objection to two men in waistcoats pottering around a green-baize table and weighing up their next pink, brown or blue. But there comes a time when even televised basket weaving becomes a more appealing proposition.

Sport, by its very nature, should be all about end-to-end action and fast-flowing movement. It’s a race between middle-distance athletes, elegant ball control in football, mesmeric tennis backhands and dashing hooks in cricket. Above all, it's about high-intensity competition and athleticism at its most spellbinding.

It could be said that the likes of Steve Davis, Cliff Thorburn, Jimmy White, Stephen Hendry, Ray Reardon and Dennis Taylor are craftsmen of the highest rank. They could be sport’s next Olympians but there is a school of thought that sport has to be more exciting than watching two wooden snooker cues.

Sadly, though, the Olympic movement was built on somewhat loftier ideals. Snooker, for all intents and purposes, always looked as if it were designed for people with an eye for colour. You could imagine that people who watch snooker are those who choose their living-room wallpaper.

Forgive me, dear reader, but when I next to tune into the Benson and Hedges Masters or whatever it's called, I shall have to watch it with a very critical eye. It may have a skill and strategy that some of us may not have noticed but the thrills and spills are distinctly thin on the ground.

For me, it is the most mundane nonsense that ever found its way onto our TV screens. During the early 1970s BBC2 introduced us to Pot Black, the first snooker-related programme and as reds were scattered and the colours potted, some of us raced over to the park to play football.

But when the sponsorship money was rolling in, snooker seemed to have landed on its feet. Now Davis and White became not only household names but culture icons, opening up shopping centres or plugging their latest autobiography.

There have to be doubts, though, about snooker’s dubious place on the sports pages. But it  will forever have its well-dressed gentlemen in bow ties and the soothing click of the ball. It will never set the pulse beating or get the heart pounding but it does attract TV viewers by the million. It is this adrenalin buzz that never ceases to amaze.

In six years' time, London will be holding its first Olympics since 1948 and very soon snooker enthusiasts across the land will be in full voice. As one, they will shout from the rooftops and sing the praises of their alleged sport. Why isn’t this fascinating, energy-sapping spectacle part of the Olympic movement?

There is a reasonable argument for ballroom dancing and darts for Olympic inclusion. Now those same learned commentators may well have their point but surely there can be no future for these tedious non events. There are grumbling critics in all sports but the next time a black is potted or a salsa is executed, one writer will be fast asleep on the sofa.

Well, is snooker a real sport or just a pub game glitzed up? Let us have your comments.