Let’s be honest, we all have projects we wish had never embarked upon.
Looking back Sir Clive Sinclair must wonder why he ever went public with the Sinclair C5 – that laughable white plastic “personal transporter” – which was (literally) overtaken by the mobility scooter.
A close friend spent a considerable amount of money stocking his embryonic music shop in the 1970s with the latest 8-track cartridges only to find them rendered redundant by the rise of what were then called compact cassettes. I remember a former work colleague who banked his future on the Betamax video recorder only to see it trampled into the dust by VHS.
Hands up anyone seduced by the 1980s mini-disc revolution? Remember the recordable media, which lasted about six moths? Tops.
So I predict disaster for the Australian businessman who has chosen this, the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic, to pronounce he will launch an UNSINKABLE replica in 2014.
But let’s consider this as a business proposition: An identical ship to that which sank on its maiden voyage, tragically resulting in the deaths of more than 1,000 souls. Who wants tickets? No I thought not.
It’s a tough sell. A cabin with sea view on the Marie Celeste anyone? A city centre apartment in Pompeii perhaps, a holiday home on the slopes of Mount Krakatoa?
But let me bring this a bit more up-to-date and get to the point I really wanted to make this week – Roy Hodgson’s decision to accept the position of England football manager chimes in the much same manner and he is going to regret it.
Here is a thoroughly decent man, a skilled coach, a diplomat, a gentleman, who has decided to embark on a project as certainly doomed to failure as anyone who invested in Euro Tunnel or the telegram.
Football is ‘a funny old game’ but even if Roy of the Rovers manages to get a half-decent result in the impending European Championships, he will surely rue the day he took the FA shilling.