Harry Redknapp is the people's favourite for one of the highest profile jobs in world football. Picture: Paul Chesterton / Focus Images

I have a theory. When Harry Redknapp goes home, wife Sandra watches the TV from a comfy chair, while hubby sits by the window. It’s open, to enable him to conduct regular chats with anyone who might be passing.

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When he goes to bed, he sleeps close to the window, just in case someone wants a chat. And in his office, you can bet there is a window open, just to help out the Sky TV reporters who fancy sticking a microphone in front of his mug and asking him questions.

Like, “What about the England job, Harry?”.

To which he can reply, without, I fear, any sense of embarrassment or event the hint of a smile, “I’ve not even thought about it. I’ve got a job to do”.

Hasn’t even thought about it?

Redknapp is the people’s favourite for one of the highest profile jobs in world football, with a salary that will surely be higher than the £6m a year that Fabio Capello was on. His every move is being tracked. Every time a car window is wound down a camera is pointed towards it, just in case Harry’s inside. Judging by Sky News coverage of Thursday’s events, Harry’s even taken to winding down the window and posing for pictures for fellow motorists.

“That’s one for the album, dear. It’s that nice man who is going to be the next England manager.”

“Rubbish – stick it on Ebay, it’ll be worth a fortune this time next week.”

Capello’s decision to step down from the job has provoked football’s version of comedy gold.

For example, the Press Association filed an urgent ‘snap’ story which said “Newcastle boss Alan Pardew today ruled himself out of the race to succeed Fabio Capello as England manager.”

Well thank goodness for that.

Then there was the Redknapp I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about-line.

But the full Monty came later, when the FA marched into a press conference to give their version of the events of the previous day. If you saw the absolutely ridiculous ’press conferences’ to publicise the new Muppet Show film recently, when serious journalists were tasked with questioning foam-filled puppets you’ll get a flavour of what the FA’s attempt was like.

David Bernstein, the FA chairman, absolved himself and the institution of all blame.

It was their decision to sack John Terry as England captain, because of the defender’s forthcoming trial for racial abuse, without telling the England manager, which led to Capello claiming his authority had been undermined and he could no longer stay in the job.

I didn’t hear anyone ask Bernstein why he didn’t think it sensible to consult Capello first.

“Of course it’s regrettable when a manager leaves like this,” he said. You mean, when you’ve have made him look like a fool?

“I think we got it absolutely right.”

No, you didn’t. You got it absolutely wrong. Which is why, four months before the European Championship, everyone is looking at us and laughing. Yet again, we appear to have imploded.

Inevitably he was questioned about the Window Man.

“There clearly is a preference for an Englishman,” he said, refusing to rule out a part-time appointment until the end of Euro 2012.

If the FA don’t appoint Redknapp I will eat my favourite hat, but suggesting England go into a major championship without a proper, full-time manager in place is effectively saying, “we’ve written this one off”.

I read that Bernstein had “revealed himself to possess a spine of steel”. And the common sense of a plank of wood.

It boils down to one thing: should Bernstein and his board have acted on Terry without consulting their manager? It’s not about whether the decision was right or wrong. Would Paul Lambert expect to hear that Alan Bowkett has made a decision regarding team affairs at Carrow Road? No. And nor should Capello have expected such shoddy treatment.

Curious that the FA stripped Terry of the captaincy (which is itself was only halfway to what their principles should have allowed them to do), but Redknapp wasn’t suspended by Spurs at any period as he awaited trial on tax evasion charges, of which he was cleared this week. Should Redknapp be made manager before Terry’s hearing in July, will he reinstate Terry as captain, working on the same principle as has applied to him?

The FA have left the England national team up a creek without a paddle, thanks to the man who is steering the big ship.

It is a shambles, a mess, a joke. Let’s all look through the square window to see what farcical event follows.

• THE CANARIES CAME IN TWO BY TWO TO LAMBERT’S STEADY SHIP

I am indebted to my colleague, Norwich City season ticket holder of many years, now personal finance writer on the EDP, Adam Aiken, for the following gem – and I still can’t believe I haven’t spotted it before.

Adam has come up with a Noah’s Ark theory about Paul Lambert’s signings which leaves the old Bennett-Bennett-Barnett and Ruddy-Rudd lines looking old hat.

The theory also defies the familiarity breeds contempt line. All you have to do is look at where his players have come from.

• Millwall: Zak Whitbread and Steve Morison.

• Peterborough United: Russell Martin and Ryan Bennett

• Brighton: Elliott Bennet and Andrew Crofts.

• Everton: John Ruddy and James Vaughan.

• Leeds: Bradley Johnson and Jonny Howson.

• Colchester: David Fox and Marc Tierney.

That’s a little bit spooky, even more so when you explore it a little bit further...

• Stockport: Oli Johnson and Michael Rose.

• Liverpool: Dani Ayala and Dani Pacheco.

• Wolves: Andrew Surman and Sam Vokes.

Okay, they get a little tenuous the further you go, but what a curious pattern to emerge.

Those of a more inquiring mind might just look at some of the ‘single’ signings, as in, City only have one player from that club, and start putting two and two together.

Like Huddersfield, from where City bought Anthony Pilkington. Might he be joined by another Huddersfield signing at some stage in the future? No prizes for guessing who might be a likely candidate.

It may of course be just a coincidence, a really big coincidence, or might Paul Lambert hit on a very clever way of ensuring that players settle in to new surroundings and get acquainted more easily with new team-mates?

© Adam Aiken

• ALL I CAUGHT DURING FEN FISHING TRIPS WAS A COLD

The big freeze looks like it’s going to hit again this weekend, so if you fancy a trip to a local football match, think again.

My free lunch courtesy of mother looks set to be postponed for a while, with Wisbech Town’s match at home to Diss Town looking like a non-starter. Pity, I fancied a chilli.

Not sure which sportsman or woman has it worst at this time of the year. Footballers can wear gloves and ladies tights, should they so wish (and if their managers permit) and can soon shake off the cold after a bit of running around. Ditto rugby players, although sliding full length on frozen ground is hardly an appetising prospect.

Hockey players might have to brush the snow clear off their artificial surfaces, but I suspect a hockey ball on bare flesh is pretty painful.

Worst experience I’ve had of winter sport was fishing – pre-driving days and therefore in the mobile phone-less era I was often dropped off for an early morning session on the North Level Drain, two or three miles from home. On one occasion we had to raid a local barn for string and chicken wire to construct something that we could throw to break the ice, ensuring there was a hole which we could hit with the float. An hour or two of fishing in a hole the size of a dustbin lid drained the enthusiasm quicker than a ditch when the sluice gates are opened.

The nearest phone box was miles away, but I wouldn’t have had any money anyway. Long walks along the river bank didn’t warm anything up – and after a while the view of the fens becomes a bit samey, even to the educated eye of one of its own.

Eventually, several hours later, my father would arrive to pick me up, laying me gently into the car, ensuring me my feet would still be in the bottom of my wellies and that my ears were fixed perfectly to the side of my very red face.

With football and rugby and hockey, almost every outdoor sport, you can move. With fishing, you can’t (unless you are spinning for pike, a practice I could never take to). We’re a hardy mob.