I made no secret of the fact that Sam Allardyce's appointment didn't have me turning cartwheels. The style of play he encouraged in Bolton and his fondness for thuggish, borderline sociopaths (Mr El-Hadji Diouf to name but one) was not something I wished to see reproduced at my beloved St James' Park.
That said, I was willing to see what he could do at a club with greater resources than Wanderers; give him time to work. Which is more than the new owner was prepared to do.
So once again the Magpies foolishly found themselves without a manager just a matter of months into the season.
Hopes for some big international name were bandied about, along with just about anyone who's ever coached in the Premiership, as well as some who haven't. The arguments against Shearer taking over are well-worn. Let's just say I worship the man as a centre-forward, but we both know he's not ready for the job.
For a while it looked like we 'ad 'Arry Redknapp - a man I regard as the Deep Blue Sea to Big Sam's Devil, perfectly good at what he does, no disrespect, but more attuned to a club the size of Portsmouth - but I was able to breathe a sigh of relief when that turned out to be another crock of Red Top.
Which was exactly what the rumours of a Kevin Keegan Komeback smelt of - until, at just before five this afternoon, the club announced that was exactly what was happening.
I've no idea whether or not bringing back the guy who made us exciting nearly-men is a good idea (although it does save us from the prospect of hiring Mark Hughes or Steve Bruce, at least for the time being) and goodness knows I'll find plenty to say about it in weeks to come, especially now I have reliable internet access at home for the first time in months.
But for now, I'm speechless.