FABIO Capello might have struggled to recollect the Beatles tune ‘When I’m Sixty Four’ before last night’s non-event – but I hope after that performance, he knows the lyrics to ‘Help’.

Whatever plan the Italian is currently working to, it isn’t working. And if he doesn’t find the right mix pretty soon, we’ll be back on the plane from South Africa with our tails between out legs faster than you can say Yoko oh-no.

England’s lack of creativity bordered on the chronic. So much emphasis was placed on the return of Gareth Barry, but for all the Manchester City midfielder’s qualities, was he really the man best placed to unlock Algeria?

Steven Gerrard and Wayne Rooney’s passing skills deserted them completely, and Emile Heskey reaffirmed what we all knew, Jermain Defoe should have started the game.

At times I felt genuinely embarrassed, and 10 minutes into the second half, I thought seriously about acquiescing to my mate John’s request to turn the telly over to a Top Gear repeat on Dave.

I remember back in 1986 when England drew 0-0 with another North African side Morocco, with Ray Wilkins getting sent off and all that.

England were on the verge of elimination right then and I sat there, aged seven, wondering why I had invested so much time and pocket money buying Panini stickers and following this bizarre sport which to date had only brought pain and suffering.

Back then, my pain was eased by a packet of Transform-a-Snack, but when I tried a similar trick last night it failed just as miserably as Capello’s decision to shift Rooney on to the left wing with six minutes to go.

I could lash out, blame ITV, pin it on the Jabulani or the vuvuzelas, or indeed the fact I have worn the same shirt two games running now. But that would be childish – we just don’t look good enough.

Thousands of people have paid thousands of pounds for their Ticket to Ride and it’s for them that I truly feel sorry right now.

So Please, Please me, Fabio – sort it out. My summer depends on it.