Eddie Jones is a funny one. A few years back when he was with England, he won world Rugby Coach of the Year, an award that looked like a crowning achievement, walked like a crowning achievement and quacked like a crowning achievement. Jones has always traded as an outsider though.

On the night, dickied up for the delectation of a black-tie audience in Monte Carlo, he bristled against the cosiness of it all. “I must admit I feel a bit embarrassed,” he said. “We’re not the number one team in the world. I think Steve Hansen should be up here but someone has judged it another way.”

The interviewer battled gamely on and asked him what he might do with the award. “I think my dog will play with it,” Jones replied.

In the popular imagination, that’s who Jones is. Spiky, sharp of tongue, a slave to the one-liner. Never afraid to be just that little bit more unsettling than people are comfortable with. As famous for the things he says as for the teams he produces. His shtick is well worn at this stage.

But shtick never designed a play or won a match or paid a bill. And Jones has been doing all of those things and more for most of rugby’s professional era. Nobody could have survived at the elite tier of the game for as long as Jones has, staying as relevant as he has, if all he did was crack jokes and dish out abuse.

In the history of Test rugby, nobody has coached more international matches than Jones. When he leads Japan into Lansdowne Road this weekend, it will be his 215th match as a head coach, which puts him 11 clea