ON TUESDAY night, at the end of ITV's There's Only One Barry Fry. it was difficult to figure out who deserved the most sympathy - the supporters of the Fry-managed Peterborough United, the team's left back or the manager's wife Kirsteen. After a nano-second of deliberation, Kirsteen got douze points and won the vote.

It took a little longer to work out who Kirsteen reminded me of. Her husband is the Del Boy of English football management, that bit was easy, but Kirsteen? Then a scene from a television programme came in to mind ... Father Ted awakes in the middle of the night, can't sleep, gets up, goes downstairs, opens the living room door and who's waiting there with a cup of tea? Mrs Doyle.

Now switch to last Tuesday night. It's 2.28 in the morning. Barry Fry can't sleep. His team lost yet again that day, 2-1 at home to Bristol Rovers. They're in deep, deep relegation trouble. Barry leans over to turn on the bedside light and before the bulb even has time to warm up who appears with a cup of tea? Mrs Doyle? Nope, Kirsteen. They must be related, surely.

If you thought Mrs Doyle had it tough living with Ted, Dougal and Jack (and the occasional visiting bishop) well, it's nothing compared to the life Kirsteen endures. As her husband might put it, he's had more clubs than Tiger Woods, but he insists he's given his family "a good life".

So to what exotic locations has his managerial career taken his lucky wife and five kids? Milan? Madrid? Em, Manchester? No. Barnet, Southend, Birmingham and Peterborough.

Well, at least they must have financial security? The signs looked good. While the real Del Boy motored around in a three-wheeler with `New York, Paris and Peckham' emblazoned on the side, Barry drives a Merc carrying the registration plate, POS I.I - which was obviously as close as he could get to `POSH', Peterborough United's nickname.

Fine house too, but then Barry's desire to become English football's first club manager-owner put that, and everything else, at risk.

When he took over at Peterborough, with his redundancy payment from Birmingham City sticking out of his back pocket, he agreed to take on their debts of £650,000 in exchange for club shares ... then he discovered the debt was closer to £2.5 million.

"Only a prat like me could come in to a club without knowing the full financial implications," he said, while blaming his problems on the "diabolical information" he had received.

Then he used his, Kirsteen's and the five kids' home as security on a £210,000 loan for the club. "My wife always said she'd live in a tent with me, she may well have the opportunity," he chuckled as their home came within days of being repossessed.

We half expected the next scene in the documentary to show us Kirsteen, Barry and the five kids packed in to a one-man tent on Peterborough Common (with the Merc carrying the registration plate POS I.I parked outside).

But the family was spared that outcome after the club tightened its financial belt and sacked Barry's assistant manager and coach - who are probably now living in a one-man tent on Peterborough Common with their families. (We saw the assistant manager, Mick Halsall, lose his false teeth earlier in the programme, as he attempted to howl at the team from the dug-out. It was one of the GREAT television moments).

Surely, for Kirsteen to agree to extend her marital contract beyond the end of the season, there must have been some tender, loving moments between herself and Barry? There were. Well, kind of. Take the 2.28 in the morning scene. After delivering a cup of tea to her husband Kirsteen got back in to bed just in time to hear Barry's moving speech to the camera. (It came as a relief when the caption `home video' came up on the screen - it was one thing Barry allowing a television crew in to the boardroom and dressing room, but the bedroom too? Even Kirsteen might have balked at that).

"Can't sleep, as usual - it's no good being depressed, it's no good turning up in the morning depressed and showing it, I've got to be cocky, I've got to be confident, I've got to hide how I feel inside, got to be positive, got to be bouncy," said Barry, before turning to his sleep-deprived wife. "I'm gonna try and get five minutes, it's a joke innit?" Then he switched off the light before enquiring: "Fancy a bit love?" A beautiful moment.

And we almost saw them share a beautiful moment next day. Before leaving for a crucial league match, Barry turned to Kirsteen and we guessed what he was about to say something like: "Darling, I couldn't put in to words how grateful I am for you standing by me through these difficult and, at times, harrowing years. I love you very, very, very much". Well, no, that's not actually what he said. Rather: "What do you want?" - to which Kirsteen replied: "Three points" (when she probably should have howled "A DIVORCE - NOOOOOOW").

But that's the peculiar power of Barry Fry. The people who have good reason to ring his neck tend to feel a bizarre sense of loyalty towards him.

Take the Peterborough fans. After promising them at the start of last season that the team would rocket to promotion to Division One, he then led them to the worst run of results in the club's history - 10 games without a win. Then he led them to relegation to Division Three.

Didn't seem to worry too many of the fans though. Especially the ones on board the supporters' coach on the way to Bury near the end of the season (when relegation was all but assured). "I love 'im. He's the best thing that has ever happened to this club," declared one fan before chirpily singing, with the rest of the passengers: "Que sera, sera, whatever will be will be, we're going to Division Three.

Half time in Peterborough's FA Cup match against Wrexham. Barry's none-too-pleased about his left back's role in Wrexham's equaliser. "F***ing poxy goal, back door, where woz you left back? Get out there and do you're own f"**ing job. Let others worry about their f***ing job - f***ing head it, f***ing head it."

The left back made a big mistake by trying to defend his footballing reputation. "B*****KS," he countered. Uh, oh. Barry grabbed him by the shoulders, shaped up to headbutt him while pointing out: "You let us down Saturday, you f***ing fairy, you let us down again today - defend the f***ing back post." "B*****KS B*****KS," the left back argued back before hurling his drink at his manager. Later, the same left back told the camera how much he loves his manager. Weird.

Peterborough were, of course, relegated. Barry admitted that the team was like every other one he had ever managed: "great going forward, poxy at the back". Perhaps he should take Kirsteen and the kids to Elland Road now, where a partnership with George Graham (whose charges are poxy going forward, great at the back) could bring the glory days back to Leeds.