Wealth, love triangles and silly names – Chelsea's search for André Villas-Boas's successor is due a cameo from Joan Collins
Glancing down a list of boardroom personnel at Chelsea – Bruce Buck, Ron Gourlay, Eugene Tenenbaum – it's hard to avoid the conclusion Roman Abramovich selected them not so much for their financial or business acumen, as for the fact they sound like the cast of characters from a bonkbusting 1980s US TV mini-series starring Jan-Michael Vincent and Morgan Fairchild. Perhaps the enigmatic Russian plans to assemble the candidates for the ejector seat recently vacated with a squawk by André Villas-Boas and – in the style of Phoebe Cates in Shirley Conran's Lace – raise an eyebrow, pout and demand: "Which one of you sons of bitches is my manager?"
Many observers have claimed that the coach is not the real issue at Chelsea, and that if the club is to prosper changes must be made "at the top". This has led to speculation that Abramovich may be on the brink of firing himself. Though it is unlikely the Russian will do the deed face to face, preferring to use an intermediary, possibly named Stag LaFarge.
Naturally enough there has been a large amount of interest in what it has become de rigueur to call "The Chelsea Salary". One of the first top-level coaches to, in the currently worn-to-a-nubbin cliché, "step up to the plate" was Rafa Benítez (indeed, judging by the shape of the Spaniard he has stepped up to the plate more than once). Thrillingly the former Anfield goatee-in-chief has proved eminently capable of delivering just the sort of overwrought speeches the Stamford Bridge shopping-and-shagging saga demands, declaring that Liverpool fans loved him and, "if they love me, they will understand".
It was a statement that couldn't fail to bring a tear to the eye of anyone who recalls Richard Bach, author of 70s mega-seller Jonathan Livingston Seagull, who told us: "If you love someone set them free. If they come back they are yours. If they don't they never were."
Sadly Rafa stopped short of anything that quite matched Bach's "to fly as fast as thought to anywhere that is now – you begin by knowing you have already arrived", but there is yet time. Fernando Torres for one would surely benefit from such a piece of wisdom, whether it comes from a football manager, or is delivered – as in the novel – by philosophical Chinese seabird.
When it comes to overheated dialogue, Benítez is certainly the frontrunner to succeed AVB. However, in an effort to make himself at least sound like the sort of suavely priapic jetsetter who might have dumped Brooke Adams for Sophie Ward while engaged in a bitter family feud over an emerald mine with James Farentino, I feel he might be wise to change his name by deed poll to something more redolent of shoulderpads, caviar and piña coladas – Paco St Moritz perhaps or Vuitton de Suiza.
Scenting money, grey-haired old hunting fox, Sven-Goran Eriksson – the Richard Chamberlain of football – has also begun to descend the grand staircase. The Swede is too smooth an operator to toss his hat into the ring, preferring to drop his name gently in the hope that hot air currents will waft it into the managerial frame.
Sven is famous for utterances so gnomic they come with a fishing rod and a red hat. While he was England manager this made sound common sense. As another man famous for the opacity of his public declarations, the late Italian prime minister, Aldo Moro, once remarked when asked why he didn't make himself plainer: "If the people understood what I was telling them, they'd all emigrate." On Monday the ex-England manager was on his best oblique form, telling reporters that he knew the Chelsea owner: "I have met him 10 or 15 times for a cup of tea. I have not spent a week with him. For me he has great passion."
Without stress it is impossible to know quite what Sven was driving at in that last sentence. If he were saying, "For me he has a great passion," however, few would be surprised. After all, Abramovich wouldn't be the first ambitious ingénue to catch sight of their reflection in the Swede's spectacles and find themselves instantly besotted.
An 80s TV mini-series wouldn't have been complete without a love triangle, and lo, before you could say "A Woman of Substance", our flaring nostrils had caught the first whiff of one as the Football Association revealed that it has finally compiled a list of candidates to succeed the broodingly passionate maestro, Don Fabio.
On Tuesday Radio 5 Live informed listeners that while the FA wouldn't reveal how many names were on the list "the BBC understands [media shorthand for "we took a guess and they didn't deny it"] that there are more than three, but no more than 10".
The list was referred to as a "shortlist" suggesting that the International Committee had started out with a longlist, though exactly how long this longlist was would, at this stage, be futile to speculate, though past experience and current information would suggest that it was definitely more than 10 but in all likelihood substantially less than infinity.
Will the FA's list contain some of the same names as Chelsea's list? You can bet your life on it. As a consequence the coming weeks will see wealth being ostentatiously flaunted, hair tossed, bosoms heaved, manhood stirred and possibly some saucy shenanigans with a goldfish as both sides wrestle for the one they love. Who exactly that is only the unfolding feature-length episodes can tell us. All I will say at this stage is that – based on statistics – you should never rule out a cameo by Joan Collins.