David Marples: So, this game feels a lot like Glastonbury on TV: a bit pointless but obliged to watch it since it's on. It seems like an absolute age since that nice young Norwegian man was sat in the dugout at Cardiff, but he's since been replaced by everyone's favourite Nottingham born ex-teacher. In short, this has been the biggest comedown for the Bluebirds, slumming it back in The Championship, since Alan McGee decided that he should make do with a nice cup of tea rather than any pharmaceutical substance. This wasn't part of the master plan for Cardiff was it?
Jonny Owen: No not really, but then again, everything has been a bit wonky since the owner decided to turn 100 years of history on his head and split the club into so many warring factions that we make the Balkans look like Switzerland. I have so many friends who you would have sworn just a few years ago would only turn their backs on the Bluebirds if they relocated to Swansea and called themselves West Wales United who have done, for good too or at least until the owner goes. Talking of whom (good word that), he thought that with a just a mere majestic wave of his emperor like hand, he could right all the wrongs of an almost lunatic like campaign of Neroesque abandon by turning us back to our rightful Blue...because his Mam told him to (you think I'm making this up? I really ain't).
DM: We'll come to him shortly. Sounds like a hodgepodge of a shambles.
JO: It hasn't happened. The club is raw, divided and a shadow of what it was just five years ago. Lifelong friends have fallen out. Our eye-watering debt to a man who, by his own admission only watched his first football match four years ago, grows to that of a third-world banana republic and we now occupy a soulless MacStadium where men in luminous jackets proudly post on websites how they've broken the back of what was once the most vociferous and grudgingly admired set of supporters in the land. And that's the good side!
On the pitch we've lurched like an old soak after a day on the Navy Rum from a managerial crisis played out in public between the owner and Malky Mackay, to ending up with a nice fella from Notts who's been brought in to basically trim the squad down to Championship/League One levels. Goodbye Gary Medal to Inter Milan. Hello Alex Revell from Rotherham. All in 12 months. It really has been that much of a slide. The result is the team is now a lower-level Championship side that plays in front of dwindling crowds many of whom (that word again) are not renewing next season. So, you think you've got it bad
DM: Alex Revell aside, there's some decent players in there. If there's a lower league striker whom you once thought was quite good but hadn't heard much of him recently, chances are he's with Cardiff. Step forward Nicky Maynard, Anthony Pilkington, Kenwyne Jones and Eoin Doyle. Apart from Peter Whittingham, anyone else who's likely to bag one against us?
JO: Well Whits is a bit of an enigma: much loved by some while others feel he's allowed what is his obvious talent to never really manifest itself in a top Premiership side. He basically has a wand for a left foot but he's the type of player who will patently pull out of a 50/50 causing the crowd to groan because we all dream of the chance of doing that and showing our love for the club, so when someone doesn't and in front of our very eyes...well then it's sacrilege, isn't it?
Who will score? Goodness knows, it won't be our top goal scorer Kenwyne Jones - I know that. We gave him to those giants of football AFC Bournemouth to help them get promoted. No offence to Bournemouth (I like the way they play) but it's an indication of how far we've fallen in just a few seasons.
DM: Your cat-stroking, glove-wearing, moustache-stroking Bond villain of an owner has been very quiet since the whole red shirts/Malky Mackay malarky. Does this mean he's just building up to a bizarre outlandish scheme or that he's getting on with sorting things out for another crack at the big time?
JO: Anyone who is involved with Cardiff City would say the same as me...fuck knows!?!
A bit like they say the time when you should worry about being in the woods with a grizzly bear is not when you can see him and he's growling, but when it's gone quiet and you can't. I always feel a bit like that with the owner. Even now, some defend him. I'm not joking here, you will still find City fans who say we would have died without him, others quickly point out we have. Since that awful heart-breaking day when he announced he would change the colour and badge it's been a motorway crash with the rest of football looking on in rubber necking disbelief as what were once considered to be the tightest set of supporters in the land, tore one another apart.
It's left a very very bitter taste in thousands of fans mouths and while we crashed and burned, he not only played the fiddle, he got in a whole orchestra and laughed manically while the flames reflected in his shades. In fact we have become the almost perfect example (or warning) for football of what can happen when a rich man who knows nothing of the game takes over a club and is allowed to do whatever he wants. You have all been warned.
DM: Indeed we have. In typical end of season fare, it's going to be 4-4, isn't it? Am I right? Tell me I'm right.
JO: No it will be shite. It will be a field full of egotistical, spoilt millionaire footballers, half our age who's musical taste would be modern R'n'B lazily playing out a tepid affair while dreaming of the Seychelles with their leggy bird who, while sitting in the box, has sunglasses on worth more than your house. We may as well all get drunk and talk of how the great '79 Forest side invented the way Barcelona play now and Cardiff's FA Cup win of 1927 when the captain was a Somme veteran who was told he'd never play again after being injured in the war but came home to win the greatest cup competition in the world for his home town.
DM: That sounds like a plan. Drinks are on us. Finally, summer is so nearly here and the footy is over for a while. Got any plans? Going anywhere nice? Cornwall? Cardigan Bay? Skegness?
JO: Before holidays, there’s the Notts County footy charity day over at Meadow Lane. It has a load of famous rock stars and me playing, or trying to play. It's on 16th May. They've sold more tickets already than for home games (and before you say...that's not hard! Don't be a bitch, okay?). Details are on their website.
DM: There’s that film too. Tell us about the film. You know the one: ‘I Believe in Miracles’.
JO: Ah the film...well it's been offered Cinematic release later this year and we've already been given the line by the Guardian...’the best film about football ever made.’...which is a good start. Am I proud of it? Yes. Have I enjoyed doing it? Listen....I get to hang out with John fuckin Robertson and Garry fuckin Birtles most weeks. If you'd told me I'd be doing that when I used to watch them conquer Europe as a pie-eyed kid in the Valleys, I’d have danced my little adidas sambas off my coal dust covered Welsh feet. Ha!
PS Good luck to all and thank you to the Forest fans and club for my treatment in doing the research for the film. You are without doubt a class act of a club.
This film...it's going to be pretty special - trust us on this.
Meanwhile, here's the trailer for Jonny's film Svengali:
Before it was a film, Svengali was a cult internet series which the NME called ' the best series on the net'. Click here to watch the first of the seven instalments.