Our typically weak punning headline for this one spoke of Sam Missiles, but perhaps a more accurate parallel could be drawn with that old Strongbow cider commercial where three arrows land in quick succession.

Yes, Bolton's defence were short-handed and saddled with more leaks than a Max Boyce convention - a situation hardly improved forty eight hours later by their acquisition of the willing but limited Andy O'Brien.

But regardless of whatever staffing issues the Trotters had, Allardyce's new charges were in the mood to wreak havoc from the off and rode the tide of good fortune that came their way in a first half that had both sets of fans rubbing their eyes in disbelief.

Three strikes and you're out indeed - and in the bizarre world of Newcastle United, the two scorers were the same pair who went AWOL at Watford in the final game of last season and have spent most of the close season being linked with moves away from Tyneside. 

Boardroom-led, pre-match propaganda had attempted to underplay Sam's role in the 21st Century Bolton revival, inferring that fans, players and officials were relieved he'd slung his hook to leave them to push onwards and upwards.

Unfortunately that defiance/delusion failed to transmit itself to the ticket office or home dressing room, with empty spaces evident on all sides of the former and fitful contributions from many of the latter.

Even the trademark physicality of previous seasons was lost from the Trotters, who preferred to leave the hockler Diouf on the bench until the second half - when he showed a damn sight more fight and commitment than most of his colleagues, even if well shacked by our lot.

Sam appeared pitchside at the restart, but no sooner had he succumbed to the "give us a wave" cries from the away end than his old side scored. 

For a while that buoyed the home crowd and a slight unease could perhaps be detected among those well versed in the art of watching Newcastle sides unravel. 

However that feeling gradually melted away as Bolton failed to find any meaningful width or service to Anelka and we coped with their aimless long punts upfield.

The departure of Speed with quarter of an hour remaining ended any lingering hopes that his side had of clawing their way back into this game, as Newcastle sat in midfield and contented themselves with trying to set Shola away. Unsuccessfully. Now where's that hip grease?

After a sweltering afternoon, the absence of a midweek fixture for us in either league or Europe may be a blessing, allowing the players recovery time from their opening day exertions.

The free week before Villa also gives us a further opportunity to integrate recent signings and chase further new faces, as well as see the injury list reduce.

And of course there's always the post-match analysis and Prozone stats to be looked at in this new world.

After the comparative famines of recent times this was a fabulous result on many levels - taking points from a place where we've tossed away the last fifteen, registering an away win of any description and collecting a maximum points return on opening day.

But while much ballyhoo surrounded the return of Allardyce, for the supporters of his new side, the venue and the occasion were of secondary importance - lagging way behind the instant coherence of the performance, the hints at planning & organisation (revolutionary!) and the sheer entertainment value of the first half display.

Nineteen away games in the Premiership last season saw us register a measly fifteen goals - something that caused some of the most romanticised Magpie diehards to adopt a pragmatic stance and start making value judgements about turning out and parting with their hard-earned.

Quite simply, we weren't worth watching. 

Today was all about getting a little pride and belief back - and a renewed sense of optimism that seemed utterly impossible in those miserable final games of last season when we lacked the talent, motivation or application to give Blackburn and Watford a game.