Mike Wade: Magpies totally bonkers in belief that money squawks

AWHILE BACK, hungry after a long day's wander round Dublin's sights, a few of us had drifted into a local restaurant where we were met by the maitre d' with this greeting: "Welcome, Earthlings". It was unorthodox, vaguely amusing, but ominous, not the thing you expect to hear ahead of a satisfying meal. Sure enough, the food served up that night was inedible.

It should've been a lesson learnt. As Confucius probably said: When you're happily anticipating a good time, you don't need the head waiter to ruin things right at the start. Something worse will surely follow.

But that Dublin meal was 15 years ago, memories fade, and when Wednesday came, I was ready to be suckered again, this time by football. The Carling Cup tie between Newcastle and Spurs had a big billing, bummed up by Sky Sports as the match which would 'kickstart' the season for one of the two "sleeping giants" on display. So, even though I was late and had missed the first half, I'd vaulted nimbly on to the sofa ready to be entertained. Then came that "Welcome Earthlings" moment.

"If you've only just turned on, then lucky you," yipped commentator Ian Darke, as the players kicked off. Of course, I should have flicked stations immediately and watched another hilarious episode of Friends. But I didn't and you can guess the rest.

Spurs were terrible, Newcastle worse. The only player on the park was Michael Owen, though his colleagues rarely gave him the ball. Twice in fact. The first time he was too quick for Jonathan Woodgate and got a good shot in. Second time around, he scored, but by then Newcastle had already tossed the game away.

Making matters infinitely worse for the neutrally-minded couch potato is all the other stuff you get these days with Newcastle, that astonishing, never-ending whinge which we recognise as the call of a vast flock of Magpies. Their team has gone more than a half century without a domestic trophy, but year in, year out, Geordie fans are always there or thereabouts in the national squawking championships.

The magic mix on Tyneside is cloying sentimentality, whisked with lashings of self regard, and a noisy herd mentality. Where else (apart from Celtic Park, obviously) is even the most minor event at the football club followed within a matter of minutes by the gathering of the faithful outside the stadium? It can be as simple as an image of Mike Ashley drinking a pint in public, but rest assured a mob of outraged, pot-bellied Geordies will instantly gather to air their objections to any passing cameraman.

And the arrogance. The franchise football of the English Premiership is hugely overblown, but nobody takes themselves more seriously than Newcastle United fans. That endless insistence on never-ending Radio 5 phone-ins that 'We are a big club', as if they were. Or as if it mattered.

Now they've arrived at a very strange place. Unhappy with the kind of moneybags owners their club has been attracting, many Newcastle fans are demanding – it's not too strong a word – that a more pliable billionaire comes along to buy them over.

This person mustn't be a cockney (like Mr Ashley), he mustn't have a giggle about Newcastle women (that was Freddy Shepherd), but he should be prepared for endless abuse, and ready to flush away squillions of pounds to indulge the "Toon army". Marketeers selling the club would call that the 'offer' – but it will take a very eccentric billionaire to find it attractive.

Any notion that a kind of collective hysteria has set in on Tyneside is confirmed by a look at the fans' messageboards, where the hot topics are these: the ignominy of being rejected by Terry Venables, the possibility of a takeover by Nigerian businessmen, and endless speculation about the supposed demise of Gazza.

They've all gone bonkers, apart from "Curian", a poster at Newcastle Mad. "This so boring. We are in a state of crisis and we are clutching straws. If you are arguing we are a big club...who cares ffs. I'd rather be small, stable and moving forward than this." Hear, hear. And give us some peace, ffs.