Big Ron Manager has been quite a hit for Sky One these past few weeks. In it, Ron Atkinson continued his quest for postracist-comment public rehabilitation by adopting the guise of troubleshooter for Peterborough United. He was there to mentor their comically inept young manager Steve Bleasdale and try to balance the books.

It made for enthralling television as the manager was viciously undermined by his players, rows in the dressing room descended into physical violence and owner Barry Fry confessed that the club was close to bankruptcy. Bleasdale finally stormed out of his job just minutes before kick-off in a crucial game. In the words of Jeff Stelling's voiceover, there was "dissent, disarray, and dismay".

Eventually, a side that just weeks before the end of the season looked to have a decent shout for promotion finished outside the play-off places. "Generally, Ron's input got the thumbs up, " said Fry afterwards. Hmm, troubleshooter. In fairness, Fry never looked like a dictionary kinda guy.

Peterborough, however, was not the first choice for Atkinson's expertise.

First stop for the Big Ron roadshow was Swindon, and manager Iffy Onoura, who, to the presumable delight of Sky's marketing people, is black.

Ron came in, offered his assistance, Iffy wasn't keen on the idea, so it didn't work. This was made clear in the opening minutes. What followed was how this happened. There wasn't even that much to tell, which on paper looks like another hour dragged out by the producers to capitalise on the success of a popular show. But what was shown was fascinating, as two men with very little in common tried to forge a relationship that clearly wasn't ever going to work.

Early doors, Atkinson trotted out what he seems to think passes for an excuse for calling Marcel Desailly a "lazy thick nigger": "You know, Terry Venables has said to me, 'when are you going to stop apologising for that'?" It's the umpteenth time he's said it, and as Onoura pointed out before he met him, Atkinson still seems to be having trouble understanding what exactly he did wrong.

Although Onoura didn't meet his new mentor with hostility, the fact that news of their coupling had made the national press meant he was immediately guarded. With Atkinson having a camera crew in tow, he wasn't keen on having what he called the "Gordon Ramsay experience". In their initial meeting, Atkinson tried to make clear that he was not there to undermine the manager or take his job, he just wanted to help. But on his subsequent appearances, you didn't have to be a talking head on Big Brother to read Onoura's body language. He didn't want Atkinson there.

He was also savvy enough to be scornful of the television requirements.

Onoura recognised how ridiculous the whole charade was, and probably should have marched into his directors and demanded that Atkinson and the cameras leave. But he allowed it to continue, letting the situation progress despite rejecting every suggestion that Atkinson could make.

Eventually, there was the comic scene of Atkinson offering his advice after a match while Onoura's eyes darted maniacally everywhere except towards the person talking to him. Clearly, Atkinson's voice had become as grating as nails on a blackboard. Ron was baffled and while Onoura was entitled to be wary, he lacked the maturity to explain his reasoning, eventually resorting to pouring scorn on Atkinson's efforts to a friend over the phone while the cameras rolled.

Eventually, matters came to a head and the pair talked it out, sort of.

Onoura, rather touchingly, suggested that Atkinson should have been able to invite him out for a beer, to forge a relationship away from the cameras.

Atkinson was perplexed, pointing out that this wasn't the object of the exercise, he was only there to offer advice.

Ironically, in terms of Ron's rehab, a pint with Iffy down the local would probably have worked a treat.

Instead, they went their separate ways. Swindon became the first Premiership club to be relegated to the bottom tier and Onoura got the sack. He wasn't able to keep his side up, but Onoura did help to provide a remarkable piece of self-aware reality TV. The reality was that the cameras were a huge part of the story, and he didn't want to be exposed while Atkinson and the show's producers got more out of him and his club than he was ever going to get out of Atkinson's advice. For this, Iffy Onoura, On the Air salutes you.