Dear oh dear, as exasperated kings are known to murmur – just look at the state of rugby union. But if our monarch had to pass judgment on the catastrophe enveloping the game in England, you imagine his language would be stronger than that. Mind you, a decent king is just what rugby needs: heads have to be seriously knocked together – off the field – if the game is to survive in anything like its current form. This column feels no shame in returning to this theme; after all, it’s not often that a major sport finds itself looking down the barrel.

It’s clear that the current organisational structures don’t work: the two big beasts, the Rugby Football Union and Premiership Rugby, have in some ways mutually exclusive interests which can’t be good for the game. Heavy hitters such as Rob Andrew and Simon Halliday are arguing that there should ultimately be one body, which seems spot on. Wasps and Worcester have toppled over, but they won’t be the only ones. The game needs its own Richard Thompson, the man tasked with rescuing English cricket; someone charming, ruthless, capable of getting ostriches and elephants to compromise but with an eye for tradition and the best of the past.

Lower-tier club rugby is what it is because clubs are fun. There’s a lady who makes the sandwiches, a big guy behind the bar dispensing beer and wisdom, and a function room for quiz nights. There’s training on Wednesday and a game on Saturday and then everyone gets pissed. Professionalrugby is nothing like that but still wants to hang on to bits of it. Professional rugby is like America’s NFL, but without the fans or the marketing or the money or the TV deal.

Professional rugby players are monsters who train hard and eat properly. They have amazing medical support and superb facilities. They earn money that no one can really afford to pay them. A ten-team league in cities and stadiums that can support big teams may soon be the only chance: then pro rugby, with its magnificent on-field offering, really will be the sleeping giant of sporting spectacle.

Clubs’ sources of revenue are threefold: the TV contract (not that much); the fans (not enough of them except at a very few big clubs); and sponsors. And here you can see a looming headache, so to speak, especially with player safety. How would the good folk in the marketing departments of Topps Tiles, DHL or Land Rover feel about being associated with a game whose players might not be able to remember their own name by the time they reach 40?

Everything should be on the table now: what can union learn from rugby league, especially the pace of the game? In league the ball is in play virtually throughout; in union nothing is happening for up to 20 minutes. Should union lose one or two players to open it up? Should there be more regular rugby sevens tournaments? They are rapid, safe and a joy to watch, plus they’re in the Olympics. Should there be central contracts, with the RFU paying the hefty salaries of players such as Owen Farrell and Maro Itoje? After all, the RFU make a fortune from sell-out Twickenham fixtures and their separate TV deal. There is all to play for.

Anyone who thinks women are the weaker sex should watch Hollie Doyle’s ride on Trueshan in the Long Distance Cup at Ascot at the weekend. The duel with Coltrane was titanic and Doyle’s riding magisterial as she drove her horse to the line – which was unfortunate as Coltrane was the recipient of a few of my hard-earned pounds. Doyle is some tough cookie. She picked up two suspensions for what were described as ‘careless riding’ incidents. I’m not sure ‘careless’ is quite right. Maybe ‘coldly calculating’ would be better.