So Sven has come out of the affair still firmly sitting in the saddle. The chinless wonder with the goofy teeth who has never actually won anything with England will remain in charge, largely due, one suspects, to a pair of golden handcuffs the FA were silly enough to lock around his Swedish wrists – safe as the proverbial Volvo.
In any other commercial situation, the manager who upends the same secretary as the boss – read Mark Palios, Chief Executive – would now be on the dole and not smirking at a £4 million plus potential pay out, representing almost four times the earnings of any other European football supreme.
But hang on… Palios? Doesn’t that smack of another Trojan horse, the anglicised George Michael? He too was Greek or Cypriot and caught with his trousers down.Another Johnny Foreigner! Given the choice between two evils, Palios had to go, no question.
And others followed him on Sven’s Teflon altar. Put Ron Atkinson in charge, I say. At least there would be no pussyfooting around! Call a spade a spade if you must, but at least there would be no drowning in hypocrisy. As for what’s-her-name, where I come from she would not be served in the local, never mind being courted by the Sunday tabloids with a small fortune in the offing following her moral lassitude. Sven, a man of honour would have gone, unasked, but then again the three lions worn on England’s shirts with pride are not part of his heritage.
