Out comes a delicious looking cheeseboard, its pungent aromas filling the room. A Brie de Meaux oozes and creeps, encroaching on the other cheeses like a bully. With watering mouths, the lads tuck in with good cheer, gobbling up the Gorgonzola and massacring the Manchego like men possessed. All that's left by the time they sit back in their chairs and loosen their belts is a forlorn-looking Cheddar that never stood a chance amidst such exotic company.
Dyke surveys this scene of devastation as he pours himself another glass of vintage port, the cheddar stirring something unexpected in his soul. Then, suddenly, 'Eureka!' He taps a stray spoon on his glass and springs to his feet like a man in the full flush of youth, which possibly has something to do with the port.
"By Jove," he cries, "I think I've got it!"
His guests are intrigued, if a little taken aback, by this sudden outburst. They puff on their cigars and await an explanation, which they feel sure will be good.
Dyke allows a pregnant pause for dramatic effect before excitedly exclaiming "Bloody foreigners, coming over, destroying English football!"
The dinner-guests, while somewhat confused, nod sagely. They respect Dyke and feel sure he's onto something, though what exactly he's onto remains far from clear. Unfortunately for them, their host fails to elaborate further and rushes out of the room. For the remainder of the evening, he can be found pacing the hallway, his glass of port in one hand and a dictaphone in the other. By the time the guests leave, he has hatched a cunning plan.
That plan was aired publicly this week. In case you missed it, it's similar to every other plan those at the FA have ever come up with. Essentially, blame the barren wasteland that is the English national team on foreigners. Not only that, but make it more difficult for the blighters to continue sabotaging our national sport by insisting that clubs must have more home-grown players on their books and making it trickier than ever to acquire a work-permit. He stopped short of demanding citizen-tests and ale-supping competitions for any foreigner who wants to play over here but that's probably next.
The problem with all this is that some of us quite like the foreign players we've seen infiltrating our game over the last couple of decades. Indeed, some of us believe that things have improved as a result. Okay, for every Eric Cantona you'll get an Eric Djemba Djemba but, still, Eric Cantona was pretty great and, what's more, he inspired and improved one of the finest crop of English players ever to emerge from the same club. The likes of David Beckham, Paul Scholes and Gary Neville all tell of Cantona's remarkable influence on them.
Quite why Dyke believes that forcing clubs to increase their quota of home-grown players will magically improve the England team is something of a mystery. Perhaps, again, it was the port making him all misty-eyed but, the fact is, England were hardly world-beaters prior to the foreign invasion. It could even be argued that the national side has, on the whole, improved since then - still rubbish but just that bit less rubbish.
When you consider some of the players who have worn the three lions in recent times, they aren't all that bad. Beckham, Scholes and Neville were some of the best of their generation. Then there's the likes of Steven Gerrard, Alan Shearer, Michael Owen, Wayne Rooney and Rio Ferdinand, to name just a few who have somehow managed to rise above the rabble of imports and forge decent careers for themselves.
Come to think of it, England probably should have done better in major tournaments than they have. But then, major tournaments are notoriously difficult to win. Bad management, bad decision-making by players on the day and bad luck all combine to thwart football teams, as well as simply losing to a slightly better side.
Dyke's simplistic notion that foreigners are stunting the growth of potential England stars is predictable and deeply uninspiring. Great players inspire youngsters, wherever they hail from. Great players also improve slightly less-great players. Instead of increasing home-grown quotas, perhaps the FA should concentrate on improving facilities and coaching for kids, and pressing governments to stop ripping up playing-fields left, right and centre. You know, things that might actually bear some fruit in the long-run?
The cream will, more often than not, rise to the top. If an English player is good enough, he will be picked for his club. If he's not, that club should be free to find someone better, foreign or otherwise. Just like if you fancy something more adventurous on your cheeseboard than cheddar, you are free to go wild in the Waitrose cheese-aisle.
Fortunately, Dyke needs the Premier League to ratify his hair-brained scheme. I know what I'd say if I were them: "Go home, man. You're drunk."
