A couple of years ago the club was sold to a wealthy businessman and he brought a couple of  cohorts with him to manage the club.  All three of them are from the London area and when things started to go wrong, they became known as The Cockney Mafia. Their propensity for not telling us anything about what they were doing evoked memories of Omerta, reinforcing the idea that they were sinister outsiders.

Because the team is sinking in the Premiership, apparently on the way down to the Championship, some misguided souls think this is a deliberate tactic, for what purpose is a total mystery, but when notions of conspiracy are afoot, some people will believe anything.

The big talking point right now is Avoiding the Drop as if by some superhuman effort we can, if we are nimble enough, jump out of the way just as the trapdoor is opening. Your actual gallows metaphor.

So what are we to do? We are not going to stop spending money on season tickets and merchandise. We are still going to have a pint in Shearer’s Bar. So what is the answer?

I asked my friend O.D. Malone and with language so spare that it would make Elmore Leonard look verbose, he said,  “Cockney Mafia oot.”

How this is to be achieved is not clear at the moment, but it has become received wisdom that the only way to stave off disaster is to get rid of the present owner and his team.

Cockney Mafia oot.

That could easily have been written about the boating fun available  down here among the lakes. We have Bass Boats, Pontoon Boats and of course the famous Airboat which is driven by a huge propeller mounted on the back of the boat, allowing the boats to go in a few inches of water and mostly used in the Everglades. Some time ago, one of my neighbors was seen driving his airboat on the grass. I think he stopped when he realized that he was polishing the bottom out of his boat and so he took it back into the water.

The pontoon boat or Party Barge, is basically two large pontoons with a platform on the top and surrounded by a railing to keep the partygoers on board. These boats can be fitted out to suit the taste of the owner for partying or fishing or just “messing about in boats.”

One of the very popular boats is the Bass Boat which is not a boat made out of bass, but a boat used for catching the fish which are plentiful around here. This boat usually has a large motor on the back for getting you there in a hurry and a small electric trolling motor, to be used  for trolling slowly along while you dangle your hook in the water and contemplate life.

All in all a wonderful way to spend a day out with your friends or even alone if you enjoy solitary pursuits, and who doesn’t from time to time.

We all know better than that. Lets face it, the last time they won anything worthwhile was in 1955. And to avoid relegation to a lower division this season, will take a superhuman effort. An effort that has not yet emerged this season. Even a human effort would be appreciated. So why do we support this team of under achievers year after year?

O.D. thought for a minute. Then his face took on a look of happiness. “It’s the pies, innit?” He was referring to the hot pies that are on sale at the ground on match days. They are so hot that you can’t eat them straight away, but if you buy two, one for each pocket, they will keep your hands warm while you wait in vain for something to applaud the team for. Then when they are suitable for consumption you can console yourself with a couple of warm pies. Comfort food.

So if anyone asks you why you are a supporter of Newcastle United, a question that puzzles  everyone who is not a supporter, you can tell them, “it’s the pies, innit?”

We have a tangerine tree in our back garden absolutely bursting with fruit right now. In reminds me of that old Charlie Chaplin movie where he leans out of the window and picks an apple. Then he goes to the door and the cow is there waiting to give milk for his breakfast. This was a fantasy where he was explaining to Paulette Goddard how great it was going to be one day.

Well, we thought it would be great to squeeze our own juice for breakfast, until we found out it took 16 tangerines for one eight ounce glass of juice. To say nothing of all the pits that we had to pick out, approximately one million per eight ounces. Ah, the rural paradise!

There’s nothing like having a supermarket up the road and leave the tangerines to the birds and squirrels. That’s what I say.