Apologies for that one, but since every other sports hack in the universe is busy trawling through old DVDs of The Godfather, Goodfellas and The Sopranos for Mafiosi-type similes to apply to the new England manager I thought I would get in on the act. Or ottenga dentro sull'atto, as they say in Palermo.
The Don, horse's heads, "it's only business", we've had the lot. And if we haven't, we soon will. Even the Sunday Times codded up a picture of Capello dressed as Peter Clemeza, complete with five o-clock shadow and George Raft's tommy gun. What price The Sun greeting his first win in charge with the headline: PASTA MASTER?
Fabio can expect a lot more of this in the months ahead. He will have to confront the reality that when the British media are discussing anything even vaguely Italian they will ignore the fact that this is a country that gave the world an Eternal City, Michelangelo, Verdi and Sophia Loren and concentrate instead on clever headlines about funny foods made with eggs and wheat or dodgy looking characters who mumble into their hands and love their families.
Capello does seem to have been given an easy ride so far. No snaps yet of his missus in a bikini or his kids getting pissed in public. Not even a photo of his ancient mama slaving over the meatballs back home in Gorizia.
The fact is that outside his playing and coaching record, no-one knows a thing about him. No previous whatsoever. When the Mail on Sunday attempted to enlighten us with "10 Things You Didn't Know about Fabio Capello" they ran out of facts by Number 7 which was the bombshell that "he has twice been replaced by Germans at Real Madrid".
Give us time, however. As soon as Capello loses against Lapland, or maybe Latvia, we'll off him and everyone remotely connected with him. He'll regret to his dying day not picking an English backroom staffer; he'll fry in hell for bringing back Beckham and we'll prove conclusively that his long lost uncle was Lucky Luciano.
He'll be sleeping with the fishes before you can say "Steve McClaren".
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