My dear old Uncle Arthur, the Everton fan with the soft spot for Burnley, he with the fund of jokes who told me the one the other week, told me another one when we went over to Newton le Willows the other day to see them.

Did you see the story about the "gifted footballer" arrested after allegedly playing under a false name for four years?

Now who said that before he upped sticks and left? Except this time we're talking about the Turf Moor pitch as well as the developing side.

It didn't seem the busiest of summers; a few departures, a few agent generated rumours, and some steady arrivals, Marney, Wallace, Iwelumo and Grant; but in conjunction with other changes since January the opening team was rather different to the one that provided the memorable promotion season.

So it all came to an end; relegated for reasons which will be debated for a long time, and the disappointment will probably last for another 33 years.

"Honey, I'm home."

"You get what you pay for," wrote Joe Lovejoy in his perceptive report of the game against Man City.

With Blackburn out of the way and bruises disappearing by the minute where PC Clout had walloped people so enthusiastically after the game in the CF Stand.

The aftertaste of the dreadful Blackburn game took quite a while to wear off. Clarke Carlisle in his website blog said the players didn't lack effort or commitment. Manager Laws said the players were nervous on the day and pressure may have got to them.

March 17^th and with Phil Brown having been dismissed at Hull, The Sun came out with the suggestion that Barry Kilby would sack Brian Laws. Journalism like this had to happen.

Both Wolves and Burnley were level on 24 points, Burnley in the bottom three on goal difference. Win and Burnley would definitely be out of the bottom three, and with other teams just above them with less than easy games, it began as a promising day. What more of an incentive did they want?

After the Portsmouth debacle at home none of us wanted to hear the words countdown or conundrum ever again. It took a while to recover from the feelings of dejection as we walked away.

That's what manager Brian Laws said immediately prior to the game at Aston Villa; an away game; the very words enough to make anybody shiver.

It's all Burnley's fault, wrote a disgruntled fan from in the comments section of the Guardian following a piece by David Conn about the disaster that is Portsmouth. You could have knocked me over with an agent's bung.

How unusual it was for the Chairman Barry Kilby, a man of careful, measured words, to be so outspoken in his Chelsea programme notes.

When the club unveiled their proposals for the redevelopment of Turf Moor at just after midnight on February 8^th, I guess many of us initially went "wow" this is fantastic. Eventually, however, it wasn't so much "wow" but "how."

By the end of January I think everyone wanted to let Owen Coyle pass into the history books and forget his ill-timed departure. Yet, annoyingly, it was either Coyle himself or tabloid writer Nixon who kept stoking the fires with more newspaper pieces.

The Sunday Papers after the Cup exit praised Reading but I fancy in private Brian Laws was a bit shell-shocked by the paucity of his own team's display.

It was the day after the night before, time to be constructive I felt; stop the inquests, time to put away the accusations, and the vitriol, although maybe that's a word a bit on the strong side perhaps.

De Dum, De Dum, De Dum De Dum, De Dum

But none of us thought it would happen quite so soon, and as suddenly as this. He was only here for a little more than two years but what a two years it was.

With Christmas just three days away at last we had confirmation that the lunatics had taken over the Premiership asylum with Mark Hughes sacked by the Arabs at Man City and Benitez promising a top four place at Liverpool.

Following a night of terrific football, a Cup-tie atmosphere and a wonderful game that could have gone either way; probably that's what I immediately should have been writing about.

In praise of Burnley books and a review of the Tim Quelch 1959/69 Championship book.

My hero is Stuart Hall. I love his radio reports, his wit and artistry with words. His book Between Heaven and Hall has pride of place on the shelf next to all the books wot I have wrote.