"Cheer up, Robbo, you're in a pub." That's what my mate Tony Thompson said to me after I witnessed England's worst performance yet under Smiley Steve.

Four pints and a lamb madras later, the depression remained. Never have beer and curry failed to cheer me before.

Israel were dreadful. And we drew against them - therefore we are dreadful.

I suppose you couldn't really argue with McClaren's selection - but I will.

Lampard? No. No more. Gerrard in the centre, Lennon on the right, Barry on the left (or Downing) and Frank Junior back home in Lampard Towers.

Phil Neville? No. Phil is like some sort of celebrity relative who gets in to all the big parties cos his brother's in a boy band. Micah at right-back. Wes at right-back. My cat at right-back, just not Phil Neville.

Nevertheless, the team McClaren put out should still have been good enough to thump the opposition. Except we never looked like scoring.

Rooney was the same hairy little herbert that growled and grimaced his way through the World Cup but we had nowt up front save the threat of a rampaging Jamie Carragher! Carragher was our biggest threat! You go into battle and your most dangerous weapon is the bloke who digs the trenches!

There's only one conclusion to draw. The gaffer. He's hopeless. He's done his best this week to rally the troops, to instil a bit of confidence and - key word here - PASSION. If that's our boys being passionate then I fear for their marriages.

Of course, it all started so well. The axing of the mighty Becks seemed a great idea to me. The team McClaren inherited was more Beckham's than Eriksson's. Ditch him and there was a chance to shake things up a bit.

But the truth is the new man is as spineless as the old. Rooney and Lampard didn't deserve the full 90 minutes but you knew McClaren wouldn't dare upset the dear little hearts.

You also knew damn well a Fergie or a Mourinho wouldn't have hesitated to bench the big name blunderers. And those players know it too.

In a way it must be a bit confusing for the poor lambs when they leave the stewardship of a charismatic overlord like Fergie or Jose or Wenger and get bombarded by a touchy-feely grinning jessie like Steve.

We all saw a disaster looming when he was appointed (fifth choice at best). I should've said more at the time but I'm like the rest of you blind optimists out there. I thought give the bloke a chance, he's English, he knows the set-up, he's been with Sven so he'll know what not to do.

But McClaren is a born number two. Strangely his assistant, Tel, is a born number one. Perhaps the FA would like to explain this square peg/round hole employment policy. But wait! Swap them over and we night have a chance.

Don't sack McClaren because as we know, in this country, if an extremely well paid boss oversees abject failure, he is handsomely rewarded for his incompetence. Venables can take charge and if we qualify - HA! - all well and good.

Tel'll be off to some perma-tanned retreat with Des Lynam and Dale Winton and the FA can get on with the job of finding a real manager who might tell his underperforming superstars where to get off.

The irony is that bloke's name is, and always was, Guus Hiddink - and it's his Russian team who will most likely put the final nail in England's Euro coffin.