Ruud Gullit said:

"I thought I might have lost the support of the board, the fans and the players - but they have been good enough to support me. But I really believe in this team and if they all support me, which it appears they are, and give me the time I honestly believe that I can make this team work.

"People should bear in mind that we have nine major injuries to first-team squad members at this time. When everybody is fit I really believe that this team can work."

Asked if he'd be in charge for Newcastle's next game:

"I will have to think about it. I will think about what I saw today and what I've seen for the last few weeks."

Dave Jones said: 

To follow

At the end of the long dark tunnel was....a 45 minutes of sunshine (on a rainy day) then another deeper and darker route, seemingly to oblivion.

Putting aside the usual considerations (soaking wet, cost a fortune, other end of the country on a Sunday, always lose here etc.) this was simply a classic game of two halves. 

One of my travelling companions observed that we seemed to have an extra man in the opening half, and Southampton were wide open to whatever we chose to subject them to, Le Tissier seemingly powerless to prevent his side self-destructing before a live TV audience. 

On the evidence of previous visits, one goal was never going to be enough, but a Shearer penalty raised spirits in the away end still further, and the chants of support for the beleagured boss rang across this craphouse of a ground as the downpour continued. Other goals should have been scored, but a renaissance of sorts looked to have begun. The bastards fool us every time don't they....

Not since a particularly miserable New Year trip to Southend have we been so thoroughly rotten, so embarassing, so feeble and contemptible. Nemesis in the form of Stuart Ripley started the ball rolling, literally, with strolls down the wing and crosses - a concept totally alien to the United defence or so it seemed, who were rendered awestruck and immobile on a regular basis. 

With a 1-0 lead still intact, it was blatantly obvious from the pattern of play that it was simply a question of when an equaliser came, not if. Of course, it was soon followed by three more in quick succession as the roof fell in. The previously moribund Saints now galloping freely towards the figure of Jon Karelse in goal, a man for whom the term nightmare could have been invented. Had he realised that he wasn't nailed to the goal line he may have been more effective, but the buffoons in front of him were so abjectly awful that he might as well have gone home.

Criticism is due to all with the exception of Keiron Dyer, who played his heart out and was a solitary joy to watch. On a field where war veterans like Mark Hughes marched unopposed,  conscientious objectors like Temuri Ketsbaia and Silvio Maric (a substitute substituted) metaphorically waved white flags. Deserving of particular abuse is Gary Speed, back to his underachieving worst and kicking the ball straight back to their 'keeper from one of our kickoffs (I forget which.)

Thankfully they stopped at four, despite the chants of a by-now delirious home support. Speed got one back but fooled nobody. At the final whistle, people tell me Warren Barton dragged some of the players back out to acknowledge the toon fans, but  I couldn't say as I was fuming my way up Archers Road for the umpteenth time thinking dark thoughts and muttering obscenities.

Did I also mention it was raining ?

Biffa