Thursday 21st February and Radio Newcastle broadcast a show that should have caused great excitement to Sunderland fans old and new around the world. Yes, King Niall was going to dedicated two hour phone-in just for us. So why did I feel pissed off by the time the show had finished?

I’ll tell you why, the bloody callers! Seems to me that these open forums are the perfect opportunity for the downright stupid, feckless and totally pointless to vent their tiny minds and tinier thoughts upon the startled public at large.

Let us start with the first female caller of the evening. A pleasant enough lady, sounded sincere, had supporting credentials and I looked forward to her input. Would it be about Keane? King Niall? Relegation? Survival? The new signings? The last game? Would it shite.

This lady proceeded to quiz the mighty Niall about the lack of official links to the Sunderland women’s football team! Christ on a Harley. I don’t give a fuck about them?

Next up was an exile in Peterborough. Now I know for a fact that we have many excellent exiled fans in that neck of the woods and they are as committed as anyone. Not this bloke though. He had been to the new stadium once and that was a birthday treat. Yet he still felt he had to bore the tits off us with his nonsensical views on something he obviously cares little for.

The show continued with the usual suspects spouting their confusion to the listening masses. Honestly, if I wanted to hear this tripe I would listen to the three cockends on Century and the voices in my head. These people had me reaching for the Prozac and if I could have located one, a handgun with a single round.

The show continued in the same vein. The odd interesting caller or text message sender and Niall being polite and respectful as he always is. Honestly the man is nicer than the nicest thing in a nice shop that sells nothing but nice things to nice people for nice prices.

Then the coupe de grace, a female caller who now resided in the good old US of A. What, I wondered in a slightly angered and bewildered state of mind, would her comments or suggestions be about?

Could it be that our profile is growing over the pond? Has she seen an interest in Sunderland in her part of the world? Did she just want to reminisce about her times back home?

No. She suggested to King Niall that we should have vendors at the match wandering around selling hot dogs and other shite! I spat lager all over the spare bedroom. What in the name of Niall is she taking? Is it legal? Can you get it on the internet and is it addictive? Not content with this outrage and total waste of Niall’s time, she followed it up with a query as to why we didn’t play James Brown after goals anymore? My god, this woman was obviously intelligent enough to emigrate and start a new life, but here she was , letting the world know she is was thicker than buffalo shit with Bisto mixed in at a 3:1 ratio.

Was she not at the first Boro match at the Stadium? They were two up and we scored with the last kick of the game and that James Brown music entitled both the Boro fans to party in the away end. Only kids, who are a match going minority, the terminally drunk and hopelessly stupid actually liked that friggin’ music. The rest of us, the majority, hated it.

After they decided to call in the authorities and get her re-captured, the show fizzled out like a damp squib on a rainy night in the Lake District. In January.

I know I have been harsh on some of the callers but if you are prepared to display gross ignorance and, for want of a better phrase, fuckwittedness, you must be able to accept criticism. Either that or stop asking your carers or nurses to ring in for you!

I would like to finish this rant if I may with a declaration that I am not a closet homosexual. I am not a misogynist. I live with my beautiful loving girlfriend (although I don’t think I’ll mention this article to her) and I consider myself to be a completely standard gadgee.

Graham Laidler