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“He’s the devil in disguise”

Rarely has an issue been so divisive amongst my social group. Abortion, the war in Iraq, the environment - nothing comes close to the possible appointment of Mark Hughes as the next Manchester City manager.

"Heaven knows I'm miserable now..."

It's seldom boring supporting Manchester City. I concede it can be humiliating, degrading and mortifying at times, but it's never dull. Well, apart from Stuart Pearce's tenure maybe. Sunday's 8 (EIGHT) - 1 capitulation at the hands of Middlesbrough was merely the latest in a long line of farcical events that City seem to have made their trademark over the years. We don't so much shoot ourselves in the foot as blow it clean off with a pump action shotgun. Except we'd probably miss. And the resulting bullet would ricochet around before lodging itself somewhere altogether more uncomfortable and make our remaining days even more bloody miserable. No one concedes eight goals in the Premiership, and certainly not to teams like Middlesbrough.

"Anticipation has a habit to set you up for disappointment..."

It could, of course, only happen to Manchester bloody City. Our long suffering supporters are used to the element of farce that comes following the club; as far as I'm aware we're still the only team to get knocked out of the F.A. Cup by a balloon, for instance. But the events of the last 24 hours, where it has transpired that Sven Goran Eriksson's position as manager has become untenable, are extremely difficult to comprehend or accept. This represents a major balls up, even by City's standards.

"Don't these times fill your eyes..."

These are frustrating times dear reader. City, having unexpectedly spent much of the season looking like genuine contenders for the top six, have reverted to type and are once again surrendering in games in the manner we have been doing for, well, the past 25 years. Saturday's abject display at St Andrews was one of the worse I've ever seen, but then I always say that so either City are getting progressively worse or I'm prone to hyperbole. I suspect the latter.

F.E.A.R.

For Eriksson a reminder. Frank employs aggressive rule. Fail emphatically and regret. OK, enough of the tenuous Ian Brown link (not least because it's proving difficult coming up with sentences to fit the acronym) but Thaksin Shinawatra's announcement that he was returning to Manchester, albeit on bail, to "tighten the bolt" had the desired effect on a previously lacklustre City side. Without a goal in their last three outings, the team turned in an impressive performance in defeating Tottenham 2-1 at Eastlands. Clearly Shinawatra is not a man to be messed with. Just ask the relatives of the numerous Thai drug dealers to incur his wrath.

"From Atlanta, Georgia to Longsight, Manchester…"

This week saw Thaksin Shinawatra finally return to Thailand to face corruption charges, after 18 months in exile. He was bizarrely accompanied by Academy graduates Kasper Schmeichel and Kelvin Etuhu, who seemed a little bewildered to find themselves on the trip (presumably they were there as a security measure, in case members of the military junta tried to lynch Thaksin for his previous misdemeanours). Not that he need worry, of course; the ruling People’s Power Party are not so much sympathetic to Shinawatra as practically subservient to him. The trial should be a formality. Christ, we’ll probably be able to claim back the lost interest on his frozen assets.

"Enjoy the silence..."

It was a big day in the North. A very big day, in fact, given the absurd level of media coverage given to the minute's silence prior to Sunday's Manchester derby. You'd be forgiven for thinking that there weren't people starving in Africa, or a global warming crisis threatening the very existence of mankind, for all the sensationalist nonsense about how City fans might react. A hypothetical scenario, goddammit! The Daily Mail, showing typical restraint, wanted one policeman at the ground for every City fan. Yes, 3000 policemen lined up on the touchline. Andy Dunn of The News of The World wanted pictures of our 'scum' fans emblazoned across his high-quality newspaper and alluded to the fans being beaten up. Other journalists called for life bans, points deducted from City, the death of our nation, the end of the world. The government pleaded for silence, even the Pope was heard to be gravely concerned.

"They don't, they don't speak for us..."

The 138th Manchester derby is still over two weeks away, but already City fans are being castigated and vilified by the national media. The game, as has been well documented for the last god knows how many months, is going to be a sensitive affair falling, as it does, just four days after the 50th anniversary of the Munich air disaster. There is some debate as to whether or not this is a freak coincidence, one of those anomalies thrown up by the computer which generates Premiership fixtures each summer, or if United instigated the idea, romantically yet naively seeing it as an ideal opportunity for the city of Manchester to be, ahem, united in paying their respects to the Munich dead. One wonders if this whole issue could have been averted by simply rearranging the fixture with a minimum of fuss behind the scenes.

"My Mersey (un)paradise"

A drab, and somewhat fortuitous, 1-0 victory over our East Lahnden brethren West Ham saw City progress to the fourth round of the FA Cup, and an eminently winnable tie at Bramall Lane awaits. BBC pundits, including Lee Dixon (who has seemingly only "outed" himself as a City fan since we became good) labelled it as one of the worst games they had seen this season. Clearly, they weren't at Goodison Park on Saturday, where it took City ninety minutes just to muster a shot on target.

"Ring a ding ding ding, you're going down..."

Earlier in the season, when pressed by journalists about City's prospects, Sven Goran Eriksson would trot out the same line "let's see where we are after Christmas", thus neatly managing the supporters' expectations and avoiding any over the top, tub thumping rhetoric that may come back to haunt him (City fans still cringe when they recall Malcolm Allison's assertion that we'd "terrorise" Europe. And that was forty years ago, godammit). Now that Christmas has been and gone, Sven has conveniently shifted the goalposts and is now saying we should wait until the end of January before we evaluate, a process that will probably continue every month until May. But he's allowed to, as he's our saviour. And we implicitly trust everything he says and does.

"We hate it when our 'friends' become successful..."

...and if they're northern that makes it even worse. Manchester City returned to winning ways on Saturday with an entertaining 4-2 victory over a resurgent Bolton Wanderers and pleasingly returned to the top four of the Premiership. Even more satisfyingly, the result well and truly pissed on the chips of Rupert Murdoch and the Sky Corporation. Their ludicrously over-hyped promotional campaign for "Sky Sport's Super Slamdunkin' Showdown Sunday" (or something) had to be re-recorded to refer to the 'Big Four' rather than the 'Top Four'. You could almost feel Richard Keys bristling with indignation that these cocky young upstarts from Manchester were threatening the hegemony of Chelsea, Arsenal, United and Liverpool. During their 63 hour preview Martin Tyler even went as far as to state that he hoped the big four returned to their 'rightful' positions at the top of the table come the end of the season.  Yep Martin, the last thing any football fan wants is for the mind-numbingly dull domination of the aforementioned clubs to be broken.  There stands a man with his finger on the pulse of the nation...

"Slide Away..."

Once more Manchester City's season veered from the sublime to the ridiculous, quite literally within the space of a minute's playing time (albeit separated by seven whole days). The sublime was provided by Stephen Ireland's sumptuous last minute strike against Reading last week, the ridiculous by Titus Bramble's catastrophic error after just 28 seconds against Wigan. Geovanni was the grateful recipient, cooly rounding the keeper to give City a start we could have scarcely hoped for. If there's a worse player in the Premiership right now than Bramble then I'm yet to see him.

"Reasons to be cheerful, part three"

I never felt more like singing the Blues, when City win, United lose. The popular terrace anthem may make little sense (surely singing the blues means you're feeling sad?!), but this weekend saw that rarest of occurrences: a City win and a United defeat. It's the little things like this that restore your faith in humanity. The fact that our victory was a touch fortuitous and came in the last minute of playing time made it all the sweeter. City just don't do last minute winners (we are the team, after all, who specialise in snatching defeat from the jaws of victory), and certainly not twenty yard volleys into the top corner. United's defeat coming at the hands of an ex-City player, albeit the unlovable Nicolas Anelka, was the icing on the cake. No doubt I'll be accused of being bitter or obsessed by United fans, but they're hypocrites. All football fans relish the misfortune of their rivals.

"From feudal serf to spender..."

A resolute, determined performance by City at Fratton Park on Sunday saw us take a creditable, but well deserved, point from a potentially tricky fixture against in-form Portsmouth. On this evidence both teams look well capable of challenging for Europe come May. Surprisingly this was actually a very good game of football, despite the lack of goals; both teams play a stylish, passing game which makes a pleasant change in this day and age of anti-football, where 4-5-1 is prevalent (I like to think of City's formation as being a more fluid 4-3-3, before you start).

"Atrocity Exhibition"

Remember, remember the 5th of November? I bloody won't nor, I suspect, will any of the other 40,037 unfortunate souls who witnessed Monday's instantly forgettable encounter with Roy Keane's Sunderland. It was a dour affair, but the only moment of genuine quality from Stephen Ireland was enough to secure the three points and return City to third spot in the Premiership, incredibly just two points behind Arsenal and Manchester United.

"New Dawn Fades"

The honeymoon period is officially over, and we have come crashing back down to earth with a thud. Saturday's result has well and truly pissed on our chips. Our best start to a season for 30 years was followed by our worst defeat in over a decade. Typical City, you might say. As we now stand four points behind both Arsenal and United, I will, graciously, concede that we're unlikely to win the Premiership title. This season, at least. We're touching from a distance, but getting further all the time.

"Let the good times roll again..."

Another home victory, another clean sheet... City's consistency and professionalism is bordering on the tedious now. Whatever happened to the Manchester City I know, the farcical City I grew up with? You'd never quite know what you were in for when going to Maine Road or Eastlands; it would veer from the sublime to the ridiculous, and back again, often in the space of a few minutes.

"Now I'm a believer..."

Manchester City fans are, by their very nature, life's eternal pessimists. If we see half a glass of milk not only is it half empty, but probably sour as well. We accepted long ago that our football team was rubbish, and would be forever more. But still we chose to attend. What else would we do? Indeed you got the impression that many Blues simply attended games to vent their frustrations at how shit life is ("Thirty grand a week, Barton? Thirty grand?! They should pay that to me for having to watch you"). I, invariably, ended up sat behind these people. At every game. For 25 bloody years. It'll come as no surprise to learn that Ian Curtis, the troubled Joy Division singer and subject of Anton Corbijn's new film Control, was also a City fan.

"Superstar Tradesman"

Elano Ralph Blumer. Whilst the name may not be the most flambuoyant, the player most certainly is. Supporters of City have been extolling his virtues for some time, but a quite breathtaking display against Newcastle has finally caught the eye of the English media.

"He was a sweet and tender hooligan..."

Next Saturday sees the return of the prodigal son as Joey Barton visits Eastlands for the first time since his acrimonious exit in June, although a broken metatarsal means he will play no part in the game. I guess they call that karma, Joey. It means he'll be spared a typically warm Mancunian reception, and I suspect a number of his former team mates will be disappointed that they'll miss the opportunity to renew acquaintances on the field. Personally, I'm relieved Barton won't be playing as he would inevitably score. I know fans of every club in the country will probably claim that ex-players always come back to haunt them, but with City they really do. It's science fact.

"You tell lies, when the truth will do..."

It could, of course, only happen at the ongoing soap opera that is Manchester City. Where else would you get a player faking the death of numerous elderly relatives in order to get out of playing a game? Script writers wouldn't even dare write something so implausible. This is Sven's first real taste of the bizarre, yet rarely dull, world of City.

"Frankie says relax"

Much has been made of Thaksin "Frank" Shinawatra's controversial takeover of Manchester City, with politicians, journalists and human rights groups questioning if he is a fit and proper person to run a football club. Personally, I'm not sure if there was ever a time when football owners had a moral code of conduct; one need only look back to the Edwards dynasty down the road to realise that (Louis Edwards is still known in these parts as the bent butcher for supplying barely edible meat to Manchester school children). And what about Bill Kenwright's crimes against culture? Have you seen Any Dream Will Do?

"This is England"

Another week, another City defeat. Journalists up and down the country are rubbing their hands gleefully at what they are prematurely dubbing Sven's first crisis. But City fans aren't too concerned. Back to back away games at The Emirates and Ewood Park were never going to be easy. Despite my diatribe against them last week in this very column, you have to (grudgingly) admire the side that Mark Hughes has built.

"The kids are alright..."

With his greying hair and spectacles, he looks more like a jovial history teacher than a football man. Yet his importance to Manchester City cannot be understated and he will play a definitive part in shaping our future. I talk, of course, of 'Gentleman' Jim Cassell rather than Sven Goran Erikkson.

"Nothing ever lasts forever..."

Ah well. It was too good to be true. City's perfect start to the season came to an end at the Emirates Stadium today, but we're not too despondent. Arsenal, whilst not the force they once were, are still a match for anyone on their day and nine points from the first four games is a return few of us expected. Actually, when Kasper Schmeichel saved Robin van Persie's penalty I briefly entertained the notion of us not conceding a goal all season, until Cesc Fabregas' smart strike brought me crashing back down to earth. City played some nice football at times, with Mpenza and Petrov missing decent chances, but overall Arsenal outmanoeuvred us in midfield and deserved the points.

"I never felt more like singing the Blues..."

These are strange times dear reader. Manchester City are comfortably clear at the top of the Premiership, Antoine Sibierski leads the goal scoring charts, and Alex Ferguson has reacted with grace and dignity after seeing his side lose the Manchester derby. OK, I made the last one up but you get the point. It's as though I've been teleported to a parallel universe where all previous logic and reason no longer apply.

"Tangled up in Blue"

The league table has a pleasant juxtaposition about it at present. God's very own Manchester City sit proudly on top of the pile whilst United, of Manchester, but nothing really to do with it, languish in mid-table obscurity. Obviously as City fans we're all too aware that this misleading picture is likely to be temporary and could change dramatically after Sunday's derby; by then we expect to be seven points clear of our local rivals.

"Good times for a change..."

After what was unquestionably the most mundane season in living memory, the last few months have brought a veritable whirlwind of activity for the blue three-quarters of Manchester. Firstly, of course, there was the controversial takeover of the club by deposed Thai Prime Minister Dr Thaksin Shinawatra (hereafter known simply as 'Frank') and then the appointment of Sven Goran Eriksson. An owner with, shall we say, a dubious human rights record and an ex-England manager was never going to endear City to the press, and you can sense that many factions of the media are just willing us to fail.