Mike Atherton knows a thing or two about leading England... in cricket. Cricket's a sport where the captaincy is rather more important, so Atherton proposes in the Times that John Terry ought to be stripped of the armband and that Fabio Capello should forget about having a permanent captain in the future.

When the England cricket captaincy was offered to me in 1994, it came with certain terms of reference, the first being that the ECB wanted to “restore the authority” of the captain after a period in which it was perceived that the coach had too much influence. It was made clear that it was not a role to be accepted lightly. First thoughts were not of exploitation but of certain small sacrifices to be made: of time and of privacy, mainly.

So the early days, until those terms of reference were changed abruptly, involved being the main voice in selection, ringing those selected and — more angst-inducing this — those who had been dropped; having a say in schedules of tours on the distant horizon; dictating tactics; giving team-talks; helping to run practice and making decisions on the field. The last bit was the easy part. All this before you have even thought about your own performance. Since the advent of a tidal wave of support staff, the duties have become lighter of late, but the point stands.

Not being close to the football scene, and embarrassed about encroaching upon the patch of Patrick Barclay and Oliver Kay, soundings have been made this week to those who are in the know as to what exactly the England football captain does, apart from shake hands with the opposition at the toss and decide which way to kick off. One said he organises “things”. What, exactly? “Laser shoots, and the like. You know, team spirit things.” Another talked of understanding the game — although one hopes that is a minimum requirement of any international footballer. Another talked of leading by example and of his symbolic importance.

If symbolic is too strong a word, then it gets closer to the point than most. If not a symbol then he is a reflection, mainly upon Fabio Capello, and to a lesser degree on us. This is why “Il Capo” has to act.

As Bobby Moore was for Alf Ramsey, so Terry is Capello’s representative on the field and, in a welcome development, Capello has shown in his short time in charge that he will not put up with the kind of puerile nonsense tolerated by earlier managers; that the normal standards of decency, respect and discipline are as much a part of his regime as you would expect in any professional side.

The England captaincy can never be a popularity contest, and the manager cannot treat it as an audition on Strictly Come Dancing, with the public voting according to every passing whim. But when there is this level of revulsion aimed at a man so obviously lacking in class (of the human, not social, kind) and decency, and devoid, as he clearly is, of any sense of responsibility, then the man in charge must take note of the public mood. Not that it will make one iota of difference, one way or the other, to the team’s chances in South Africa.

Once the axe has swung, Capello can do himself and his team a favour before the tournament by refusing to appoint a permanent replacement, picking simply on a match-by-match basis. A fluid, flexible approach would confer immediate advantages: there would be no single figure for the media to focus on, no single figure trying and failing to live up to the kind of standards demanded by a society that is deluded enough to expect sportsmen to act as “role models”.

In the absence of a permanent captain there would be no one to exploit the honour, as Terry has tried so miserably to do. If the only meaning to the England football captaincy is, as Matt Dickinson beautifully reported on Tuesday, “half a million quid”, then it is time that particular junket was capsized. In the absence of one focal point, England’s footballers may learn that the best teams have not just one leader on the field but many.

If Capello takes this course of action, Terry’s final indiscretion, in the end, may be the best thing that has happened to the England football team.

Meanwhile, Marina Hyde is the Guardian manages to direct us to the most amusing part of the whole affair so far.

Isolating the single most witless comment on the John Terry saga thus far is a near-impossible task, but you have to think that Janet Street-Porter, 63, would be in with a shout. "Sick joke," began her Daily Mail column on the subject. "John Terry was chosen as 'Dad of the Year' by Daddies Sauce. That's a product I won't be buying any more."

In any sane universe, the correct response for anyone over the age of six would be to throw one's head back and cackle: "Oh do grow up, Janet!" Instead, alas, the fashion of the times suggests we should react by saying that it is obviously a massive disappointment that the Street-Porter condiment cupboard will now be deprived of the brown sauce which was once such an integral player among its lesser sundry ketchups, but that nothing is more important than the harmony of that cupboard being maintained, so it is commendable – if inevitable – that Janet has taken such a tough moral stand and shown what she's about as a larder manager.