His perfectionism is matched only by his capacity for burning people out

been followed out of the door by Dan Abrahams, the England team psychologist, and Dean Benton, the head of sports science. In all, 15 members of staff, from kitmen to physiotherapists, technical analysts to conditioning experts, have vanished from the fold under Jones’s stewardship. That is too many to be passed off as a natural state of flux. Pennyhill Park, England’s Surrey training base, has become about as stable a working environment as the Trump White House. Jones’s style is that he does not accept passengers or clock-watchers, that he never likes those reporting to him to grow too comfortable. There is a difference, though, between guarding against complacency and pushing employees to such limits that they take the first train out.

A perpetually unsettled workforce is not some validation of ruthless leadership, but a reflection of a deteriorating culture. One notes, for example, that those let go by Jones are not altogether ready to be enticed back. When the Australian made a recent attempt to prise Andy Farrell away from Ireland, he was rebuffed.

There never appears to be such turbulence around the All Blacks, whose excellence England are running out of time to emulate, with a first Test in four years scheduled between the nations on Nov 10. Steve Hansen’s steadfast assistant, Ian Foster, has been there throughout his tenure, while Wayne Smith decided to take retirement after a battle with prostate cancer. Jones, by contrast, can no sooner bring coherence to his staffing unit than he can decide on his first-choice starting XV.

On the field, players are tired of being flogged as if they have signed up for the US Marine Corps. This is illustrated not just by the unacceptable attrition rate: Anthony Watson broke a jaw at the infamous Brighton camp in 2016, while Wasps’ Sam Jones was forced to retire from the sport after some judo practice there went hideously awry; but by declining performances and a pervasive sense of joylessness. At a time when Jones was meant to be deep into Phase Two of his transformation of this team, the light has gone out of England.

Act II, according to his description, was all about fashioning a side fit to take on the rest of the world. But to judge by the speed of the staff room’s revolving door, Jones’s lieutenants are starting to lose faith in the dream. England, having been beaten in five of the past six Tests, look light years adrift of Ireland, never mind New Zealand, and it is doubtful whether such a gulf can be bridged simply by ratcheting up the brute intensity by ever more degrees. Confronted by Jones’s credo of “my way or the highway”, a disturbing number of employees have opted for the M25.

A mere 13 months out from England’s World Cup opener in Sapporo, this is an alarming trend. The rise and fall of Jones’s coaching stints are unmistakable: with Australia, he started with a flourish, winning the 2001 Tri Nations, only to be ushered out four years later in the wake of five straight defeats.

But the mounting sense in this latest chapter is that the highwater mark has arrived about two years early, with the Good Ship England sailing less into placid waters than a Bermuda Triangle of Jones’s own making. Once, the insecurity that he bred could be explained as the caprice of an inspired man-manager.

Now, it looks like the corrosive by-product of a troubled reign.