Neville’s latest career choice as a Dragon does not seem a natural fit

Former-player-turned-pundit joined the panel as a guest dragon – the verdict – too spendthrift and overly optimistic

So to Gary Neville’s difficult 13th career since retiring from football. Pundit, unsuccessful manager, unsuccessful assistant manager, property developer, football club owner, university founder, restauranter, podcaster, YouTuber, solider, spy. An abrupt change in tack on Thursday night when Neville transfigured into an actual dragon.
You wonder what the other full-backs of his day think when he inevitably appears on whatever screen they happen to be looking at. Is Paul Konchesky twiddling his thumbs at home, with his modest business interests and occasional radio work, wondering what might have been if only he had attacked the day a little harder?
Perhaps he might consider pitching to Neville and his new friends in their business prison. The shabby Dragons’ Den set is showing its age now, having been quite edgy when the show began. Now it just looks like a failing branch of the Brewdog pub empire.
A gentle start for Neville with the visit of charming Billy Childs and his football memorabilia business. His mandatory pitch gimmick was a penalty shoot-out and Neville will not want to see any replays of being beaten in his bottom corner by Deborah Meaden. Touker Suleyman mispronounced Thierry Henry, and Neville corrected him with good humour. Less of that when young Billy mixed up Jamies Carragher and Redknapp and you saw a flash of annoyance cross Neville’s face. The asking price and premise of the business were gently dismantled shortly afterwards. 
Next a Cardiff couple pitching their “cosy cinema” which immediately looked too sordid for pre-watershed BBC. Neville saw Netflix sex cave and thought modular construction solution to housing crisis, offering £60,000 and demanding a drastic change in direction. Suleyman stuck 20 grand onto Neville’s offer and asked for a bigger cut of the business. A deal was struck, the dragons collaborated and Neville is now part-owner of a set of sheds in South Wales. Career 13: achieved.
Giselle Boxer wanted £50,000 for 10 per cent of her acupuncture seeds and wellness operation. Neville offered her everything she was asking for while asking no questions of his own, because otherwise his Mum might be angry with him, or something. 
A clean sweep of offers followed, and Boxer went for Steven Bartlett, who asked for the highest percentage of the business for his £50,000, all because she had once been told she would meet a man called Steven who would be important to her. Little of this seemed to make sense. We could have done with post-Den session around the Monday Night Football tablet unpicking the decision.
Finally, a man who likes cacao who looked like the offspring of Jason Orange and Gareth Ainsworth made everyone chant. He was from Manchester. “Sold!” said Neville, by this point seemingly just giving his money away to locals for fun. Honestly, quite a pleasant thing to see on television.
Astonishingly given his ubiquity, we saw a slightly different side to Neville in this context, ruthlessness with compassion. He explained politely to the first hopeful that footballers would balk at giving their equipment away for someone else’s profit. In the saturated football chat market this is the sort of detail you rarely hear about. Neville’s answer was a no, but he showed genuine empathy. I came away feeling he would be a demanding nightmare to work for, but a boss who might be the making of you.
And yet for all of his undoubted intelligence and success since retiring, Neville did not seem a natural Dragon. Too spendthrift and overly optimistic. On this evidence he seems unlikely to discover the next Reggae Reggae Sauce. More likely the next Eric Djemba-Djemba.