Donkeys led by Jackals

"We were somewhere around Swansea on the edge of the winter when the defeats began to take hold" (Hunter S Pardew "Fear & Loathing at St James' Park").

"It was a queer sultry season I destroyed the Magpies, when I didn't know what I was doing in Newcastle" (Sylvia Pardew "The Bell Jar").

“I saw the best footballing minds of my generation destroyed by appalling tactics, starving, hysterical naked, dragging themselves through Stowell Street looking for an angry fix of entertainment” (Allen Pardew “Howler”).

"Alan died today. Or, maybe, yesterday; I can't be sure. The telegram from Ashley says: your manager is gone. Funeral tomorrow. Deep sympathy, which leaves the matter doubtful; it could have been yesterday” (Yohan Camus "L'Etranger").

From early November onwards, it has seemed abundantly clear to me that the end of season DVD of Newcastle United’s performances during 2012/2013 should be a remake of Snowtown, directed in the style of Maya Deren, with a script by Kilgore Trout. Nothing drove this belief home to me more than the 6-0 humiliation by Liverpool; when the club endures its heaviest home defeat in 88 years, in the wake of suffering the worst Derby result in 47 years two weeks previous, it is clear that a line has been crossed; the point of no return has been reached. In the same way I felt betrayed by Ruud Gullit who had, in retrospect, completely duped those of us who had supported him as the worried whispers turned to bellicose bellowing, I have finally accepted that to support Pardew’s tenure beyond the end of the season is an insupportable standpoint.

Belatedly, it appears, I have finally come to realise that Pardew will never recover from the injuries inflicted not only by two grievous home defeats, but by a season of alarming underachievement and inadequacy on his part. He should not be afforded the opportunity to attempt a comeback from those pair of results. Mind, David Moyes is the front runner for the Manchester United job, despite not having won a thing in more than a decade as Everton manager and once finishing in 17^th place. That said, in his defence, it must be hard to get your hands on any silverware when your club’s skint and the ground looks like the sporting equivalent of a mid-70s Ladbroke Grove squat, without the obligatory King Tubby Meets  Rockers Uptown soundtrack.  

However; all is not lost for the Magpies, thankfully. At the time of writing, Newcastle United are 17^th; three points above the drop zone and in with a chance of being almost safe on Sunday, if we can get a positive result at QPR, which is a big ask in the context of this campaign. The doom and gloom of Saturday, the elation then despair of Monday’s clash of the titans between the Mackems and Stoke, were swept temporarily aside by Swansea’s unlikely win at Wigan, which means that our destiny is back in Newcastle United’s hands. Is this a good thing? Surely Pardew, despite overwhelming circumstantial evidence to the contrary, will not go to Loftus Road looking only for a point. Being candid, I don’t know what worries me more; that thought or the swelling undercurrent of confidence among the supporters, so soon after the fall that came after the pre Mackem debacle posturing as well.

Football is a funny game; isn’t it? Eh? Eh? Why don’t we all just shut up and watch the game? Good point, even if I find the minutiae of a supporter’s life and the enduring fascinating ideological and cultural significance of events off the pitch of far more interest than sterile debates about tactics and formations. But, let’s be honest; one of the main reasons we should dispense with Pardew is that his awful hoofball tactics have utterly negated the positivity surrounding the belated arrival of our January quintet. In effect, his catastrophic misuse of both Sissoko and Gouffran has been the equivalent of tearing up the Get Out of Jail Free card these signings represented. Why back him with hard cash if he doesn’t know how to effectively use the players currently at his disposal?

The most compelling irony about this article is that it is my unshakeable belief there have been far too many words written and spoken by and about Newcastle United players and supporters during the last few weeks. Particularly vile was Steven Taylor’s comment that the Liverpool defeat felt like the death of a close family member; perhaps he could have suggested such a thing to my dear friend John whose wife passed away a year to the day before this game. Go on, Stevie Fistpumps; ask John or anyone who has suffered bereavement what hurts more. It suggests to me that it is not only on the pitch where Taylor struggles with perspectives, though his judgement is almost faultless when compared to Pardew’s embarrassing litany of asinine comments, such as: we were “safe” after Stoke and “tired” after the Mackems, for instance. These lacunose texts show the shameful, aporetic inadequately defensive and self-justifying standpoint of the man who I judge to be inadequate to properly execute the role of Newcastle United manager.

Now, while grasping the lifebelt of populism, Pardew is offering to set up meetings with certain fans, or their representatives, “once we’re safe,” which I suppose will be ideal for les hommes chauves qui portent des maillots jaunes and other barista wannabes on work experience at Central Bean’s new franchise, just off the A191. If Pardew is prepared to grant an audience to those who threaten abuse and snarl at our players, then he is not only inadequate, but stupid as well. In his defence, perhaps he is just easily manipulated; how else do Carver and Stone remain in a job? Why did he allow Llambias and Ashley to deny the team any inward investment last close season? It is suggested that Llambias will “sit down and talk” with Pardew when the season ends; I don’t agree with that approach at all. Having judged Pardew and found him wanting, I feel he needs to go, even though I remain convinced we will avoid relegation, however ingloriously. Relegation in 2009 had a cathartic, beneficial effect on the club and support; for us to endure it again would be farcical, crass stupidity beyond the bounds of credibility. Before May is out, someone should be stood over Pardew, shouting at him and belabouring him with their fists, as he empties his desk.

Such a cleansing act would do the club more good in the long term than banning journalists, though Luke Edwards deserved absolutely no sympathy when he got his SJP ASBO, on account of his track record of biased anti Newcastle pieces ever since he accepted blood money from the descendants of Bill Deedes. While many people sought to discuss the unsubstantiated Benitez to Newcastle rumour that floated around the internet ether the night after the Liverpool destruction, I was more concerned with the nasty undercurrent of xenophobia that was creeping in to the vocabulary of an element of our support, on the back of Gary Neville’s moronic rabble rousing on Sky TV after our abject surrender to Liverpool. The completely bald and utterly contemptible Luke Edwards from The Daily Telegraph took up Neville’s snide baton and brought the hateful, prejudiced ideology of Nigel Farage in to the sporting arena by claiming, utterly without foundation, of a split in the camp between French players and the rest. Sadly, instead of ignoring this and concentrating on the West Ham game, by way of doing the talking on the pitch and proving there isn’t any discernible problems, other than the widening gap between our talented players and  clueless set of coaches, the club hierarchy got involved by banning Edwards from the ground and issuing threats of legal action.  However I must admit I like the idea of the press “fleeing like panicked slaughterhouse cattle” (to quote Hungarian auteur Tarr Bela’s description of how film journalists responded to the premiere of his Werckmeister Harmóniák) from SJP.

As ever, any protestations against The Torygraph article was widely, and depressingly, seen as proof of its veracity, though dignified silence would have been interpreted in the same way; such is the vindictive, scheming nature of the worst members of the press. The serious damage to Newcastle United is not in their worthless words, but in the effect these cynical syllables have on the minds of some of our more intemperate and less cerebral fans, who take to social media and the airwaves moaning about how the club has lost its heart to “foreign mercenaries.” Perhaps this is why an acquaintance of mine heard Cisse being referred to as a “coon” by Newcastle fans at West Ham. This is disgusting. This is disgraceful. Most of all, this is depressingly preventable, if the press didn’t stir up such base feelings by printing blatant untruths; then again when the Elizabeth Windsor’s latest speech would not have been out of place in a John Tyndall Xerox of the early 70s, what can we expect?

While the players may be Lions led by Donkeys at the present time, it would not be unfair to say some of our fans are Donkeys willingly led by Jackals in the Press Box. Presumably, the true nature of the more “English” Newcastle United these xenophobic mountebanks seek to demand, could be seen when Dan Gosling shambled on to the pitch as a late substitute in a game we desperately needed to win, but didn’t.

Saturday 4^th May was one of the very worst games I’d seen all season; High Howdon Social Club 1 New Fordley 4 in the Northern Alliance Division 2 was played at a blustery Monkseaton High School in front of a grand total of 8 spectators. It wasn’t one for the purists; to be frank it was the football equivalent of Tarr Bela’s glacially-paced A torinói ló, which begins -:

"In Turin on 3rd January, 1889, Friedrich Nietzsche steps out of the doorway of number six, Via Carlo Alberto. Not far from him, the driver of a hansom cab is having trouble with a stubborn horse. Despite all his urging, the horse refuses to move, whereupon the driver loses his patience and takes his whip to it. Nietzsche comes up to the throng and puts an end to the brutal scene, throwing his arms around the horse’s neck, sobbing. His landlord takes him home, he lies motionless and silent for two days on a divan until he mutters the obligatory last words, Mutter, ich bin dumm and lives for another ten years, silent and demented, cared for by his mother and sisters. We do not know what happened to the horse.”

All in all, it made the efforts of High Howdon and New Fordley one for the cineastes; consequently the 0-0 draw at Upton Park seemed like a thrill a second spectacular in contrast. I maintained at 5pm on Saturday evening and I still maintain it now that a point was a decent return, regardless of other results. Allardyce would have been desperate to win that game and desperately disappointed he didn’t. Admittedly Villa’s triumph at Norwich was unexpected and unpleasant, while Wigan’s win over West Brom was an absolute sickener, but to respond to those results by claiming the QPR game now became “the most important game in Newcastle United’s history” was simply ridiculous and the kind of hysteria that makes following Newcastle United as infuriating off the pitch as it is on it. What about Portsmouth 1992? We don’t need to go any further than that one when looking for the epoch defining moments in our club’s history.

Even Villa 4 years ago was far bigger than the QPR game. Indeed, attending the crucial Northern Alliance Division 1 promotion clash between Red House Farm and Wallington on Bank Holiday Monday morning, I could have discussed that game with the tired, hungover, bald and unshaven gent in the black Range Rover who knows a bit about relegating Newcastle United. Despite the rare opportunity of having 2 Newcastle United legends in the same place at the same time, we didn’t talk and he left before the end of the sterile 0-0 I endured; it was getting on for lunch and he probably fancied his chicken and beans. Good job he didn’t fancy any venison though, as a young deer escaped from the adjoining golf course and watched proceedings from a reasonably safe distance.

Despite the potential for horrific irony contained by the possibility of Aston Villa (“who’s your next messiah; Ant or Dec?”), Wigan (McManaman, Whelan, unpunished handballs) and Hull (Steve Brewse…) being in the Premier League next season, but not Newcastle United, I do honestly believe we will view the eventual relegation places from a reasonably safe distance, providing we do the business at Loftus Road. If we don’t, then we deserve to go down.