Everyone's losing it!
You can tell things are hotting up when players all over the country are going a bit doolally. (There's bound to be a player called Doolally somewhere who Wigan have got their eye on, isn't there?)
We've got Cashley in deep (now that is a footballer) over his use of language to the police on Wednesday night. You think they could've sorted it between them peaceably - they're all boys in blue, aren't they?
but that's nowt compared to the flak he's going to get from . There's nothing quite so piercing as a Geordie lass going off on one. Girl aloud indeed, eh?
You can just see him holding his mobile away from his ear and saying: "No, babe.... I know babe... that's what I'm saying, babe... I didn't do nuffink... what was I supposed to do while you was off to Tan Your Ears before Killing That Man For His Giro?"
If I was Guus Hiddink, I'd fine him a week's wages and buy some old people a couple of bungalows. 
Still, there were other nonsenses going on the same evening - not least when Ron and Roon hit the Toon. As they went down the tunnel at half-time there were , with Steven Taylor allegedly accused by Ronaldo of being a 'rubbish footballer'. I watched and he'd get in our back four no problem.
In fact a lame, blindfolded, flightless goose could have played centre-half and there'd have been no discernible drop in quality.
Taylor's reported response was that 'at least I'm not ugly'. Yeah but even by the standards of North-Eastern men you're not exactly George Clooney, son. And anyway, you should have been off the park for that cuff at the gelled tumbler.
That little bout of Gucci versus Prada was nowt compared to a truly horrible bout of violence at the JJB Stadium. all he wants - and to be fair to the official it must be hard doing night matches when you've got a paper-round to do first thing in the morning - but the Wigan manager's post-match interviews are as predictable as the contours of his nose are unpredictable. After Kilimanjaro, I'd like to see Cheryl Cole climb the west face of Brucie's conk.
Zola, who is just a top fella, didn't want to get drawn into all that and good for him.
Carlton Cole shouldn't have gone really, but Lucas Neill should. The challenge on Cattermole was Eduardo Mark II (except with a lot more intent) and Cattermole was lucky to still have the leg he kicked Parker with. In the Blue Bell we don't have much time for whingeing drips who don't like it up 'em but when they replayed that one there was one of them sick groans from every man and dog in there.
And Michael Brown is fast becoming the front-runner for this season's Robbie Savage Maximum Irritation for Minimum Effect Award. He got his card for 'aggressive behaviour' - if that's all it takes, I'd book the lad in the dressing-room pre-match.
Meanwhile, me magic touch continues with regards to predictions. Following the Boro's hammering of the Scousers on Saturday I tipped Stoke, Hull and West Brom for the drop.
The Baggies are even now at that moment in time when realises that there's nowt between his feet and the bottom of the canyon. Bendtner got two against them. Apparently, to 'bendtner' something is to strike it with your shin. (Mind you, Hasungotta Kalou got two against us)!
As the Stoke and Hull results came in, the volleys of abuse from fellow sippers in the Bell made Ashley Cole sound like the soundtrack to Bambi. The pressure's really on when your twitchy so-called mates cover your gob before you say owt about anything to do with Middlesbrough FC in your blog - good or bad. 
I said: "Has it occurred to you lot that the current first team might just be going Pogatetz up regardless of what I say?"
But they're not having it. One muppet (and I promised Graham Whitaker he'd remain nameless) had the audacity to bendtner me one and asked me if I'd like him to shut my Tees Mouth for me.
He knocked me clean off me bar-stool and the rest of them were all giving me grief for simulation. I've thought to meself 'be a Zola not a Brucie' so I've gone to Graham to put me hand on his cheek, he's gone down like a Portuguese winger and all hell breaks loose.
Tony Thompson brings it to order dead quick, mind. He tells us this is a public house, not a Chelsea FC dressing room. And we all realise that it's this relegation dogfight mania that's gripping us. That's all. It's normal.
That and the credit crunch - and it's amazing how much that affects everyone. Why even to stay with Milan for the rest of the season. Just think of all them things they're going to have to cut back on. They'll be down the market buying their veg in bulk (pound a scoop!) and sniffing round the charity shops for new clobber, won't they?
If Beckham taking a wage cut from vast to just plain bleeding huge is a news story then I'm Paris Hilton's British Best Friend (and whoever ends up becoming that should give that airhead two things: a clip round the ear and a pie.)
I'm Derek Robson. People call me Robbo. Legend has it I was raised in the furnace and smog of Teesside. Some might say I took the hard road. I like to tell folk I had trials for Middlesbrough, for Hartlepool and for burglary (not guilty). I've always loved sport. My job is to say it as I see it - whether it's in the bar of the Blue Bell or on this blog. You won't find me calling a spade a soil-redistribution implement.
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