It was really quite odd.  The court was so full, I'd been directed to the last seat in the room – right next to the witness box.   Shifting there awkwardly and less than a handshake's length away – John Terry.  The only other person in the courtroom – in the chair to my other side – the policeman in charge of the video evidence.  The video evidence of Terry saying the words "f****** black c***" to Anton Ferdinand last autumn.

The magistrate had just repaired for a 10 minute break.  Most of the courtroom had followed suit.  Everyone bar the cop, Terry, and I.  I was busy writing notes – and had stayed in my seat.  The policeman was preparing his next bit of footage.  Terry was still mid way through giving evidence.  Leaving for a quick call of nature would mean running the gauntlet of press and public who'd gathered to observe his trial.  So he sat there.  Alone.  And boy did he look it.

I looked at Terry.  Terry looked at me.  The cop turned round to both of us.  Clearly wasn't sure whether to acknowledge or ignore us.

So what to do.

Ask him if he really was telling the truth? (Recall that in summing up, the Chief Magistrate Howard Riddle called Terry's justification for using racially abusive language towards Ferdinand "unlikely".)

Not now.  Not bang in the middle of the trial, while the magistrate had effectively turned his back.

And so the unasked question just hung there between the three of us like a klaxon.

Without his entourage and declaratory swagger Terry looked rather cowed.  Maybe I should have just watched on in silence.  But no.  I had to say something.  And perhaps I was cowardly, but ideally something the court  – and Terry's lawyers – weren't about to take umbrage at.  "Contempt of court" is not a phrase editors much like to hear.

"So", I began.

A flicker of relief, then concern, flashed across Terry's face.  He was clearly relieved someone had punctured the silence.  But what next?

"The Euros," I went on.  "England played a bit better than everyone expected, right?"

There followed a rather strained exchange.  And of course, anodyne enough to not get any of us in the slightest bit of trouble.

"Yes we were surprised too!", Terry remarked.  One of us muttered, "reasons to be cheerful".  We even managed to toast the glorious Eastern European summer – "It was great weather", I recall someone saying.  The cop turned round and offered his reflections too.

Safe territory.  Football clichés.  It was like our very own Match of the Day, played out in the bizarre bosom of Westminster Magistrates Court.

Or was it just a football parody?

Because for all of his career John Terry has played the role of the classicly belligerent English centre-half – while trying to contain the personal fallout from a life that has come to define so much of what is wrong with the game.  Indeed a life that has deposited Terry – not for the first time – in a court of law to fight charges that describe a character flawed by occasional outbursts of violence, both physical and verbal.

Tried – and then cleared – of attacking a nightclub doorman a decade ago.

Stripped of the England captaincy for an affair with a teammates partner.

And then caught on camera last year directing the words "f****** black c***" at a black player.

More from Channel 4 News: John Terry – A talisman and an enigma

John Terry's international career is of course now over.  Playing on for England was "untenable"' he announced last night.  Not, in his view, because of anything he has done.  But the FA's insistence on pursuing bad character charges, after a criminal court had already found him not guilty.

But consider the judgement in full.  And recall that while on the one hand magistrate called Terry a consistent and credible witness, he also very carefully inserted these words when summing up his case.  "Nobody has been able to show that he is lying".

Terry's international problem became thus: the burden of proof for the FA disciplinary board is far lower than a criminal court.

The mere use of the words in question are quite likely to be deemed offensive and unacceptable.  It would be very curious if Terry deployed a different defence to that of his criminal trial – that he repeated them back to Anton Ferdinand in "sarcastic exclamation", as if to say "do you think I called you a "f****** black c***?".

When Luis Suarez argued before a similar FA panel last year that he had repeatedly called Patrice Evra "negrita" out of fondness and affection, he was handed an eight match ban.

The FA's position appears to be clear – using the words at all is unacceptable – it doesn't matter what the context, excuse or provocation may be.  Which makes it very hard to foresee Terry avoiding a similarly severe punishment.  A punishment that is far more significant than the £2,500 fine he faced if he'd been found guilty in a court of law.

The same court of law that he and I had whiled away a very awkward few minutes this summer talking the usual football sobriquets.  While carefully avoiding the rather toxic topic we both knew had brought us there in the first place.

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