Regular patrons of bookmakers will empathise with this sorry tale. It was Grand National week and I had money in my wallet.

I left the warm, comforting surrounds of IRN towers and trudged to the local turf accountant to place a bet on a later race at Aintree.

As I arrived the 2.10 was about to get underway and a name jumped out of the screen at me at a more than decent price. The horse shared its moniker with a good friend of mine and, in my limited experience of putting my money on horses, this sort of resonance was ignored at one’s peril.

I began to fill out the betting slip as quickly as possible but the runners were off and I was too late. I watched as said horse sauntered around in the middle of the field and made no attempts to hit the front.

Then after clearing the second last, he put on the sort of spurt that you usually associate with the BALCO laboratory, and romped home.

I had had a short golden window of opportunity and I missed it.

At least my only crime was to have arrived just a moment too late, having no prior knowledge of the chance to cash in that awaited me.

The men of the RFU have no such excuse.

Back in January, they had an opportunity to bring into their stable the best coach in the country. Shaun Edwards was ready and willing to test the methods that had turned Wasps into kings of Europe, twice, on the international stage.

Far from appearing in front of them at the last minute, Edwards’ quality was well known to the Twickenham chiefs. He had won enough trophies in the last five years at their stadium for them to be well aware of his ability.

In their wisdom, they offered him a job with their second string, and threw in the caveat that he wouldn’t be able to pick the team.

Edwards got a better offer.

He was gone. The golden window of opportunity was shut. Edwards was on the other side of it, doing wonderful things with someone else’s players.

All the RFU could do was screw up their job offer like a worthless betting slip and aim it at the waste paper basket as Edwards took Wales to the Grand Slam.
Now it seems they have been busy retrieving it from the bin, making a few amendments here and there and knocking on Edwards’ door again.

Polite sort of chap that he is, he answered them, kindly told them ‘no thanks’ and shut them out like some bothersome punter trying to get his money back.

It is the latest in a saga that has given England fans, and every other rugby observer cause to take the RFU as a governing body about as seriously as the Monster Raving Loony party.

If and when Martin Johnson is appointed next week, he has a tough task on his hands. He will have to decide on which of the current coaches he wants to keep and try to convince them to stay. He will have to have some difficult chats with those he deems superfluous, and show them the door.

Then, and this could prove the toughest ask of them all, he will have to try and restore some credibility to the group of men charged with running rugby in this country.

The odds on achieving that any time soon are growing longer by the day.

Get your money on before it’s too late.