We don't know Alan Pardew personally and we can't pretend ever to have taken a great interest in his managerial career to date - mediocre in the extreme though it looks, and punctuated by rumour and gossip.

By agreeing to become the new Manager of Newcastle United though, he's now tainted and viewed with the utmost suspicion by tens of thousands of supporters.

On the face of things that's a fairly shoddy state of affairs, giving further fuel to those who accuse fans of this club as being insular, misguided, in-bred idiots.

Pardew though has willingly allied himself to the most inept, improper set of clowns ever to mismanage a football club, arriving amid accusations of Cockney casino cronyism and desperate cries of "not Joe Kinnear" from media pals - slightly less than a ringing endorsement.

Were he to be a proven manager with an illustrious history, the bewilderment and annoyance of Hughton's departure would at least be replaced by a sliver of optimism - a 0.1% chance that something positive might come out of another self-created farce.

Instead though, Pardew now arrives here with nothing but a long contract. No benefit of the doubt, no honeymoon period, no support in the dressing room and not even any Geordie/adopted Geordie "remember me" credentials.

If Chris Hughton was rendered as dead man walking by the lack of support from his employers, then quite what shelf life Pardew will enjoy is open to question. That he doesn't appear to have much credibility to start with doesn't help: a chancer appointed by chancers.

And in making the change, Mike Ashley has once again demonstrated the utter contempt that he now holds for the fans that he once sought to buddy up with. At a stroke he's managed to successfully re-ignite the bad feeling on and off the field that resulted in our fall from grace two seasons ago. Is he trying to take us down?

The springboard effect that a new manager tends to bring to a club didn't happen here under Shearer and there seems to be even less chance of Pardew and his feel-bad factor pulling it off. If anything, his position seems like a watered-down version of Brian Clough's infamous move to Leeds (watered-down in that he doesn't have any medals to show his new charges).

Looking back at our history, there's a sense that Pardew arrives with a brief to impose dressing room order in the same way that messrs McGarry and Smith did, following the inclusive stewardship of Dickie Dinnis and Willie McFaul. This time however, the outward appearance is more of an iron fist in a glove puppet.

In the absence of information, the void is once again filled by a welter of opinions and theories. Rather than briefing pliant pressmen though, why doesn't Ashley have the balls to come out just once and explain himself; giving just a veneer of accountability to the emotional hostages that compose his public?

But please, don't send Del boy out to embarrass himself further with his half-baked nonsense. You'd have more credibility if you appointed Gazza as spokesman.

Start off by outlining exactly what "experience" Alan Pardew has that Hughton lacked: winning tin pot trophies, being sacked by clubs in each of the top three divisions, or appearing in the High Court? Or perhaps it was more the "experience" of moving in similar social circles...

And once you've tried to justify the appointment you've just made, move on to explain why his predecessor was jettisoned, after having somehow managed to create an air of respectability around a club that had none. Hughton got Manager of the Month a few times here - the Nobel Peace Prize might have been a more fitting reward.

If senior players were allowed to do as they pleased at the club and Hughton couldn't control them, tell us.

If Hughton refused to sanction the sale of players or differed with the contract, tell us.

If the downturn in attendances and corporate business is being laid at Hughton's door, tell us.

Of course none of this will happen, despite whatever level of protests follow over the coming days and weeks - which will inevitably overshadow events on the field and supply a ready-made excuse for the dropping of points and the submitting of transfer requests.

The emotions invoked by the loss of Kevin Keegan soon disappeared though, along with noble intentions of boycotting pies, pints and pumps. Meanwhile, the lack of information regarding Shearer's post-relegation position manifested itself in a collective regional glumness rather than Barrack Road bonfires and barricades. Storms were ridden out.

The real damage though is being done by stealth. Fans who don't daub on bedsheets or voice their discontent on message boards or phone-ins, but vote with their feet, stop buying tickets, shirts for their bairns etc. as their own personal point of no return is reached.

And with next summer seeing the extended season ticket deals for a significant number of fans expire, the decision to boycott SJP has just been made easier.

The insular nature of the club and the way it runs its business was already having that negative effect - but this latest self-induced farce only hastens that process.

A new low - 40 days after the high of winning the derby. The suspicion is that we'll be in the wilderness for a damn sight longer than that though.