History shows that the new man at the reins of the national game should have as little in common as possible with his predecessor

An England manager's essential quality: be different from the last one

Continuity, as we know, is the key to success but when it comes to England managers the rule of thumb seems to be to that the new man should have as little in common as possible with his predecessor.

When Graham Taylor's reign limped to its close against San Marino the conventional wisdom was clear: here was a man hopelessly out of his depth at international level; what was needed was a master tactician with European experience.

Terry Venables fitted the bill perfectly, but when he resigned to spend more time in court with his business affairs the FA realised that they needed to make a clean break and appoint a fresh face with a squeaky-clean image.

Glenn Hoddle qualified England for France 98 in style but the team's exit on penalties revealed that the supremely gifted Diamond Lights singer was in fact a deluded crackpot imposing wacky mumbo-jumbo on simple English footballers, and within months he was out. Clearly what was called for was someone who could instil honest English passion into the team. Step forward Mr Motivator, Kevin Keegan.

Hang on a minute, this joker knows nothing about the high-intensity chess match of international football. He taught the whole country the meaning of tactical acumen merely by not having any.

English spunk was no longer enough. Bring us a sophisticated, cool-headed foreigner, preferably with a Mekon-sized cranium who can steer us to the top of the international pile.

Sven-Goran Eriksson, though, not only revealed that he was rubbish at penalties but that he had a Scandinavian enthusiasm for bedroom aerobics.

Give us an Englishman, ideally a straightforward northerner, with a face that should inoculate him from trouser-area antics.

Steve McClaren turned out to be irredeemably English in his win record – the only continental quirk being his unmanly cowering beneath an umbrella – and having never managed above the North-East Counties Combination League or some such he appeared starstruck among the likes of "Stevie G" and "Lamps".

This time only a foreigner would do, and not just any foreigner but the best and most foreign foreigner available. A trophy-laden martinet used to putting millionaire players in their place.

What? A bull-headed sergeant major who drives his squad out of their minds by locking them up in the middle of nowhere and won't even let them have a beer? Madness! He just doesn't understand our culture, the foreigner, including our minutes-old tradition of anti-racism.

What we need is a passionate Englishman …