If the Premier League is one big party, Brentford remain the unpopular uncle who nobody wanted to see in the first place, cracking the same old tedious joke that you hoped you’d heard the last of.
Exchanging pleasantries with Thomas Frank, Neal Maupay and co requires exhausting levels of patience that would turn the most outgoing of souls to an anti-social hermit.
And so it proved.
‘Boring, boring, boring’ echoed a chant from the South Bank masses, who could be commended for at least staying awake as Brentford eclipsed their 2021 annus horribilis for levels of timewasting and general skullduggery.
As was the case three years ago, they won 2-0 and just like back then, they thoroughly deserved it, however soul destroying it was to watch.
In truth, Wolves were 45mins late to their own party and should have been put to bed by half time. In any league, a no show for an entire half creates a mountain to climb but in this one, the task is virtually impossible and we can only have ourselves to blame.
Sluggish, reckless and careless from the off, we looked the antithesis of a team that won 4-2 at Stamford Bridge the week before with a dead-cat-bounce replacing the spring in the step we all hoped for.
The ominous opening was only compounded when Cunha left the field to a muscle injury.
Jose Sa endured what must rank as his worst performance in any goalkeeping shirt, never mind a Wolves one, and gifted Brentford their opener with a Dracula-like aversion to a non-descript cross.
His kicking before this aberration was even more ghastly, gifting possession through brainless passes that should have been punished way before we were.
Lemina looked leggy, Gomes half asleep and man-for-man, Brentford looked like a side with a point to prove having lost the reverse league fixture 4-1 and being booted out the cup when we were initially down to 10 men at the Gtech.
They appeared to want it more and it took us too long to react. Even the worst Astropay half time efforts in the history of Astropay half time efforts were less chastening than the thought that this Wolves squad really is paper thin, with the loss of Cunha exposing us as the threadbare side we feared we would be if we sustained an injury.
Now it’s happened as many predicted it might, we can only hope that Hwang steps into the breach and Cunha’s absence isn’t as lengthy as feared.
Because on today’s evidence, Nathan Fraser isn’t ready and Bellegarde simply isn’t good enough; a case in point when Neto fizzed over a wicked cross in the first half, with the Frenchman making no effort to meet it and tap into an empty net, much to Pedro’s chagrin.
It’s not that we didn’t improve in the second half, but Brentford’s reversion to ‘Uncle Dickhead’ mode and referee Simon Hooper’s gleeful indulgence of it made the deficit an insurmountable one.
Were there a footballing god, then Dawson’s toenail would have been the right side of the red lines and a 1-1 scoreline would have punished the away side’s activation of ‘Operation Anti-Football’ (rather than the progressive approach that deservedly put them ahead).
The moment it wasn’t, the opening had passed and Bees reverted to type before Ivan Toney had his say.
Another Sa kicking error was made to look all the more horrendous as the striker dispatched unerringly.
What we’d give for a number 9 of his ilk, even more so having released the two we had in the window without so much as a replacement.
It summed up a result that might be a sign of things to come.
Either that or just another game against Brentford.