Three up front gives us all some fresh hope

Martins was unlucky to have a goal disallowed for handball, you just don't get the breaks down this end of the table. Although it's getting desperate, people forget that our rivals have dodgy run-ins as well.

Heaven knows what colour the Hull manager will be by the end of May. Alex Ferguson once called this stage of the season 'squeaky bum time', well, without wishing to put you off your breakfast whippet burger, I'm way past that and already into the 'bum cheeks flapping like a deflating Zeppelin' stage.

There are no live canaries within 10 miles of our house. I hope we don't rue the home games against Wigan, Stoke and Man City, all we had to do was hang on for a few minutes.

Those lost six points would have made us virtually safe now.

Hopefully, Liverpool will be found guilty of some infraction of the rules before we play them (crass behaviour at a solemn memorial, by their reserve keeper would do it) and as a consequence they were made to field their ladies team.

Other than that, I can see them declaring at half-time. Speaking of the optimistically named 'Capital of Culture' city, I can't understand the weeping and wailing since Liverpool's exit from the Champion's League and the realisation that they may not win the league again.

Although their recent history is admittedly more trophy-laden than ours, Newcastle supporters are ridiculed as they are perceived as 'impatient' and 'deluded', because we moan we haven't won anything of note since Joan Collins was a virgin.

What is the statute of limitations on expectations? Why should anybody be pitied, or by equal measure, reviled, because they didn't win the league?

And so, Portsmouth at home, alcohol and chemical infusions are reaching dangerous levels, heart rate is incalculable. Never mind, eh, it's only a game . . .