Definitely brave, arguably contradictory and quite possibly the most bizarre managerial appointment in our 135 year history.

In many ways, Stale Solbakken’s arrival at Molineux couldn’t be more appropriate, could it?

Stale Solbakken

While you can’t please all of the people all of the time, you can at least get every single fan talking with excitement, trepidation and emotion for the foreseeable future, which is already an infinitely more uplifting prospect than this season of shame.

If West Bromwich Albion unveiled a Norwegian of this ilk, many of us would wonder why we never think outside the box.

Unfortunately for Messrs Moxey and Morgan, too many self-inflicted slings and arrows have created more scepticism than acceptance, which is why the bunting and tic-a-tape will have to wait a while longer.

Not least when Terry Connor’s services appear to have been retained, in the most perplexing, infuriating decision which dilutes the element of revolution.

If a new broom has been used to sweep away the cobwebs of a prehistoric era, then why is the winless, deluded Connor anywhere near the coaching set up after everything he’s been associated with this season?

Such negativity is as good as engrained on a cynic like me, so it would do everyone better if I airbrushed the Connor bit and unconditionally got behind the overall decision.

Why not?! With five titles, silverware galore and a fluid, free thinking approach to the game, our new manager sounds more and more desirable with each passing minute.

An onus on effortless formation change to suit the needs of any game sounds far more exciting than the Hennessey hoofball we’ve become conditioned too, and will certainly give Dave Edwards and co something to contemplate.

Here's one for the cynics among you!

While he didn’t set the world alight at Cologne, few managers ever do in that graveyard seat, so all in all, the appointment gets a thumbs-up, albeit tentatively.

Let’s face it, nobody in the North East wanted Pardew anywhere near Newcastle, and acceptance of Brian McDermott was far from universal in Reading back in September.

All we can do is strap ourselves in for the ride, get behind the big man and enjoy!

If it results in us genuinely looking forward to a 3pm kick-off on a Saturday afternoon for the first time in an age, it will do for me.

Since the turn of the Millennium, only Derby County (07/08) and Sunderland twice (05/06 & 02/03) have stumbled their way to less points in a Premier League season than us.

Unless we win one of our last two games, the mighty Leicester City of Trevor Benjamin vintage (2001/02) will have boasted a better campaign than ours, on a positively gargantuan points haul of 28.

If we lose our last two games, even Bradford City’s old duffers of Peter Atherton fame will have outdone us in 2000/01, when they finished bottom with 26 points.

I think, therefore I am a great manager

In a collective Premier League table of 240 teams, our current crop of players currently sit in 237th place.

With 240 lots of 25 man squads, there have been 6,000 squad places to have played in the league, with our 24 men loitering from about 5,900th place.

Add in the heaviest home defeat to WBA since 1962, an all-time record breaking succession of home defeats and the joint worst goals conceded record at home in Premier League history (one goal from Everton will give us the title from Derby outright) and it is fair to surmise that we are shit.

Not just shit, but one of the shittest teams to have ever played in the top flight so far this century.

So when Michael Kightly and Dave Edwards come out and start drooling over Terry Connor like a 12 year-old on his first wankmag, I start to scratch my head.

When Stephen Ward starts talking about a shop window to exploit at the Euros I start to scratch my fist.

And when Terry Connor reckons he’s actually enhanced his chances of a full-time job I scratch my poor, poor eyes to see if these statistics I’ve stumbled upon are actually a figment of my imagination.

To see if a season ticket in my favourite seat is really going to cost me £600 when I tell my little boy that a Ben10 scooter is £100 too much.

Old red eyes is back alright.

And with this sickening torrent of delusional, disturbing bullshit from one of the most hopeless, pathetic group of Premier League failures ever, I think it’s best I just close them tight and dream that I’m living in the real world.

Well, at least I shared something in common with Steve Morgan on Saturday evening.

Like our owner, I was nowhere near the Britannia Stadium, having taken a few days holiday in sunny Barmouth.

With no internet connection, phone signal, or any means of communication, I had to do what our Steve and Jez Moxey have made an art form in the last 12 months…Presume.

Up highest again

In much the same way Steve and Jez presumed that Norwich and Swansea would be cannon fodder this season, I presumed that Stoke would batter us aerially and score at least one goal from a set piece.

Only difference being that my idle assumption was 100 per cent correct, while the men who are charged with knowing a bit about the game were not. Again.

I managed to get a faint signal to talkSPORT to listen to snippets of the second half, where Stan Collymore and Sam Matterface were virtually lost for words when looking at our hapless ‘manager’ and his subs when chasing the game.

Even Collymore, hardly a paragon of tactical lucidity, was imploring Connor change the system while the game was poised at 1-1, advocating the introduction of Milijas for a striker.

The Novice had other ideas though, waiting for the inevitable first and the 85^th minute second before bringing on Doyle, who, like every other substitute, couldn’t be bothered to warm up.

I presume that Collymore was right and was fully justified in berating our bench for not taking our grim predicament seriously. I presume Steve Morgan wasn’t listening.

Would an appointment like this heal the hurt?

From here, where do we go? The wind might be blowing here in Dyffryn as I type from an internet café, but the gale force gust needed to rip through our comedy club would not appear to be forecasted any time soon.

I berate myself for predicting it ever would, when Jez and Steve’s definition of a root and branch reform is a tracksuited ‘decisive step’ waving a half price Burrda shirt above his head in a February press conference.

No turkeys will be voting for Christmas any time soon around Molineux, but the small crumb of Paxo packaged comfort might just arrive in the form of a new manager of reputable substance.

Irrespective of the bent, disingenuous regime he would have to work in, he would at least restore a modicum of hope as we prepare for the electric life of Npower League.

Apparently Morgan wants a more ‘malleable’ manager to mould, who will surely be labelled young and hungry by Jez.

We pray that moulding the useless lump of play-doh in our dugout right now is way too tedious, even for those two.

So would the one single appointment of an Ole Gunnar Solskjaer rewrite the endless list of wrongs that Steve Morgan and Jez Moxey are responsible for?

I presume they presume you’ll all be answering ‘yes.’

*Sorry for not updating the blog sooner – I am still here in Barmouth and Thomas is on a stag do. In the Norfolk Broads!