Charlton Athletic 1 v Barnsley 3

Today was billed as D-day and it didn't disappoint - we were mown down within three minutes of kick-off. Out-fought and out-gunned, the annihilation went on for 40 minutes unanswered before Barnsley finally decided they had won and needed to preserve their gain.

This was the match in which Alan Pardew's steeds had the chance to demonstrate once and for all that they have a belief in themselves and their boss. This was a match against a team even lower  than ourselves (before the result) and whose fragile confidence matched our own. Opposition who had only managed two goals in seven away games.  So bad was their form that I put us down to win in a line of five despite believing we would only get a draw.

The outcome was conclusive. The players are not playing for the manager. They are not playing for each other and are barely playing for themsleves. We were going through the motions - literally. As the Stranglers said, "something's gotta change."

Having been in dire need of alcohol, I have been drinking rather than posting straight after the match, so I have had the benefit of reading a couple of fellow Blogger's posts. Immediate empathy with Blackheath Addick who said there was little point in writing a match report - there was nothing worth writing about. I then have to say that Inspector Sands beat me to the first post of the game, because I too was tempted to leave at half-time and get my post in before the final whistle. The fact is, I stayed longer because of my "360" rule. Bitter experience has taught me that if we are three down after 60 minutes, you are entitled to leave to end the misery. Games against Huddersfield which you win 7-6 having been 5-1 down are rare; not only is this the only time it's ever happened to us, but it's the only time in the history of professional football and without sides which play 5 up-front it's never going to happen again. For those who shot him down for leaving early, you have either not watched as many games, don't care as much, are gluttons for punishment, naive, or travelled a long way to get to the game. For the record, I stayed for 70 minutes.

At half-time my thoughts also turned to Chicago Addick. The poor bloke has flown across the Atlantic for this dross. Ok, so he gets to see his friends and family, but Jesus, you've got to be gutted when you get your rare chance to see your beloved and they piss on your leg.

Alan Pardew will be sacked within the next fortnight if not sooner; of that I am sure. Failure by the Board to do that will be failure by the Board fullstop and the heat will quickly transfer to them.  My big concern is whether or not this squad of players will respond to anyone. I said at the start of the season that I felt the clubs cost-cutting measures might be a blessing in disguise in that Alan Pardew had been forced to cull the last egos from the Premiership; good riddance to Jerome Thomas et al. However, I am at a complete loss to understand why the remnants haven't fought harder for their manager. Weaver, Hudson, Bailey (to some extent) and Varney (until the last three games), I can excuse, but the rest? In short we need a capable manager with gravitas.

We have now dropped into the bottom three with little prospect of any points in the next two games and are now in a bare-knuckle fight. I am up for the fight (as I always am)  but we need someone to roll our sleeves up and it aint Alan Pardew. I have attached a good luck message to SAP - please feel free to add your comments.