LockerRoom: John, this journalism lark has run its course for me, so I'm sitting down now to apply the final falsehoods to my application for the Irish soccer manager's job. I know, I know, I know, John, you have said you shall be out on the plains, like a quiffed Hemingway, big-name hunting rather than sitting indoors like some disgruntled clerk with a letter opener.

Fair play. So, John, I say to you as winsomely as possible: come and get me baby.

First, let me address the concerns which you have expressed, albeit obliquely, about the previous manager. John, you want a chap who will make the necessary changes at the right time in a big match. I am that chap. (You are right on football matters so often, John, that it shocks me that you haven't been invited to be a TV panellist.)

It is in this area of playing personnel that Brian Kerr made a critical bungle. On the bench against Switzerland he had no players of international quality. He virtually wrote his own P45. Your hands were tied, John. As the great Bill Veeck said once when he sacked one of his baseball managers, "It was either that or I had to go get me 25 new players."

Kerr sallied forth with no Chippy or no Gilesie. Silly man. All the preparation and passion in the world won't turn sows' ears into silk purses, and some of our players are no sows' ears.

Now, here's what I would do. I'd start with Giles and Brady in midfield and Stapo up front. Legends. I'd have Mark Lawrenson at the back with David O'Leary. I'd have Gerry Daly out wide, and up front - what the hell - I'd splurge and go for Don Givens in harness with Stapo. Just so we had plenty of width, I'd opt for Steve Heighway on the other wing. John, you'll notice I'm opting for a lot of fringes and quiffs here. The mark of a man, John. Lastly, Gerry Peyton between the sticks and Paddy Mulligan and Jimmy Holmes as the full backs.

Now that's a strong team. In 1977, they drew nil-all in Lansdowne with Bulgaria, thus failing to qualify for the 1978 World Cup. It was a three-team group and the lads came third. I could opt for them, as Gilesie himself did, or I could plump for the star-studded line-up with which Jack Charlton almost didn't qualify for Euro '88, until Gary Mackay scored that freak late winner against Bulgaria in Sofia. I could do that, or I could reunite the bunch with whom Mick McCarthy didn't go to France '98.

Any of those star-studded teams would buy a manager a second chance. We've seen that. Why didn't Kerr pick any of them instead of going with so many whiney mediocrities? Beats me.

As Irish manager, I will ask for more and I will do less, John. That's my pledge to you. I will make sure our great players are cryogenically preserved, making us the first nation to defy the aging process for the purposes of soccer. I will use the spare time to be high-profile and to do the sort of openings and nixers which reflect well on The Association.

Straight up, I should say, with due modesty, that I am uncontaminated by the National League. I had a youthful weakness for Bohs, but I'm straight now. As for youth players: I avoid them like chicken nuggets during a bird flu epidemic.

John, I don't bake the cake. I don't ice it. You bring me the cake and I'll put the cherry on the top. One million, baby. Netto.

This is a key time for Irish soccer, John, and there must be something brave and heroically crazy inside of you to make you want to be the figurehead. Looking at you, alone on the podium announcing that Brian Kerr had been rubbed out, I was stirred and inspired. Hence this application.

You are pointing us towards the promised land, a place of milk and honey in which winning is the only thing that matters. The beauty of living there is that we need to win just to survive. (Great title for the autobiography, by the way, whenever you get one of the loyal retainers to ghost it. Win To Survive!)

We're 70 million europeanos over budget on the new stadium wheeze and there hasn't been a shovel lifted in anger. To get a guy like me to do the management job is going to take at least a million a year, netto, and I'll have nowt to do with travelling to places like Gortakeegan on wet nights, thank you. You'll need a couple of the native sherpas for that sort of heavy lifting. Are they cheap?

(Speaking of help: I have taken the liberty of opening preliminary talks with that legend of the Irish game, Maurice Setters, about coming on board. The Hughton era is over. As I said to Chris one evening when I heard him disparage Maurice, "I knew Maurice Setters and you, Sir, are no Maurice Setters." He had no comeback.)

I think The Association is heading in the right direction and I want to be a first-class passenger on that journey, John.

I couldn't help chuckling at the spectacle of poor old Liam Tuohy being given a lifetime achievement award on the night of the Swiss game. Underneath the sound of all the clapping by people who couldn't pick Liam Tuohy out of a police line-up in which he was the only Caucasian, I could hear the scaffold being hammered together for Kerr. Closing my eyes and resting my chin on the fake sheepskin collar, I thought of that night when The Association permitted Tuohy to be rubbed out because Big Jack from England was new in town and wasn't to be bothered by any of the local yokels! Plus ca change!

Ah. We've always pined for a big man from abroad to give us some validation and discipline. I was born in England and have grown unfeasibly big. I can be that man, John.

It has been made clear enough, I think, to those chuckleheads in the domestic league rackets that what they may think or aspire to doesn't matter. This newsflash comes not a second before time. The big clubs in England don't bring Irish players through anymore. Chippy, Stapo and Davo? Crops like that will never be seen again. I blame the jinnyjoes who run the game here. They aren't making the Van Nistelrooys or the Henrys that the industry is looking for. Adapt or die fellas.

We have two options, John. We can work towards a new model of National League which will replicate the best European coaching structures and eventually produce games of higher quality and players of higher quality with a view to feeding those players into our national team. Sounds like bloody hard work, and for a mill a year I ain't getting out of bed to do it! Like the cut of my jib yet? There's more.

We can go back to shaking the trees for fellas who have Irish grannies. Men who feel passionate enough about this country that they would be willing to be pictured with a pint of Guinness and a green jersey. Why not? Or we can wait till the next time somebody mentions the words European Superleague and pray that somebody might put a few hundred million into a Dublin franchise that would fill the stadium that will bleed us dry otherwise. We can (with dignity) frantically hump that person's leg and hope that they produce some home-grown product for us.

I'm for holding our breaths till that happens! Seem like a plan?

Then there is the position of soccer in Irish society. It's heartening of course, John, that so many people still travel to Glasgow and Liverpool and Manchester on the weekend to see their local teams, but we shouldn't be complacent. There is no doubt having me move to a large house in Maida Vale, there to draw my huge salary and keep my household staff in order, would be a terrific shot in the arm for the domestic game. I will fly in to the Emerald Isle occasionally to open pubs and speak to television reporters. People love that. The Irish people are great fun and they've always been very good to me. Listen, John, win or lose we'll have a party and a sing-song because we have the greatest fans on earth and making them believe that is important.

John, I feel we have the GAA where we want them just now. Strategically, with their huge stadium, with their big games every Sunday, with their wall-to-wall television coverage, with that 2 million they are spending on coaching and development next year and with their network of clubs and local infrastructure, strategically John, they are cornered and they have no place to go.

For a couple of decades The Association has been emphasising that getting to World Cups and European championships is what matters. The dividend cheque is here now, John. We have won the war for the hearts and minds of the Irish people. Let's splurge! On me.

A series of steady hands on the FAI tiller has left us in an enviable position. The horny-handed sons of the Irish soil no longer dream of getting to Croke Park on All-Ireland Sunday. Nope, they dream of getting two years in digs while polishing boots and playing for the Chesterfield reserves and then coming home to catch up on their education. Keep hope alive, John, keep hope alive.

Working together, our strategy of growing Irish soccer from the top downwards can bring even greater prosperity, particularly to me. Being fourth seeds means even more big teams coming to Dublin. If we are to face into a period of prolonged mediocrity, the upside will be that as fifth or sixth seeds we will attract many more teams of higher standing than ourselves to the new Lansdowne. Where's the downside?

We stand on the threshold of a brave new era, John. Let's hold hands and jump together. You be Wallace. I'll be your Gromit.