All at Donec are of Celtic origin, and usually indulge in a certain amount of hilarity when England suffers, but the dismal situation of her football team demands a multinational approach, so we are all pitching in.

Who is responsible for England’s dismal record? Chief among the suspects is the FA, an  odd group who seem to live in a world of their own, enjoying power, pay, pensions and quite a lot of sex (so we understand), without knowing too much about football. Rumour has it that they were reluctant to employ Sir Alf Ramsay, and delighted to get rid of him. However that was long ago, and the present head man actually talks to footballers, so that must be a step in the right direction.

If, by the grace of god, player influence contributes towards hiring the right man as the next England coach, that will be one problem dealt with. The bad news is that it may not be the problem that matters.

For years now intelligent observers have been scratching their heads over a puzzling phenomenon. On a weekly basis, more than a dozen English players play like gods for their clubs, and like dead sheep when they don their England shirts.

How can this be?

I would suggest that the arrangements for the preparation of Team England are inadequate. Simple as that. It would be perfectly feasible for the FA to send a posse of experts round the world to study the way things are done in the countries which  habitually make England look like dead sheep. Let the findings be digested, let changes be made, and lo! there is no reason why Rooney, Crouch, Owen, Gerrard, Terry, Wright-Phillips (to name but six, and there are plenty more out there) should not belong to a team that plays like the great Brazilians, the great Hungarians,  the great Dutchmen.

But if the logistical changes are not made, you could hire Sir Alec Furguson and the team would still perform  like frozen mutton.

 One other small point.  England seem to have developed a tradition that the captain should be invisible. You seldom see a rock in an England shirt who goes up to a shrinking violet and, by sheer strength of character, turns the latter into weapon of war  –  for the good of the team. I wonder why that is. In other sports… do we recall someone called Martin Johnson in Rugby Union? It does make a difference.

We’re now off to the pub, glowing with satisfaction at having done our best to spread a little sunshine. It may not be enough, but we really did try.