Well, well, well... in the knee jerk emotional roller coaster world Geordies seem destined to reside in forever I wonder where that leaves some now!

When Newcastle nose dived to become buried 12th in the middle morass of the Premier League table some pundits openly suggested Eddie Howe's job could be in jeopardy. However a few short weeks later having soared to fourth and won nine straight games in league and cup the chatter was all about United challenging for the PL title despite Liverpool being nine points ahead with a game in hand.

Talk about over reacting, talk about everything being black or white. The truth has always been slap bang in the middle of such outlandish suggestions and remains so.

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Yes, a brutal 4-1 home defeat to a Bournemouth side vastly superior on the day was a reality check but let us not go into deep mourning. United have done magnificently of late and can still make the Champions League as well as win the Carabao Cup. Would that do for us? You betcha!

I say can make Europe, not will make the promised land, but all is not lost in an hour and a half.

True, St James Park was virtually empty by the time the final whistle shrilled across cold Gallowgate air after two goals in injury time but those who stayed behind sang 'Eddie Howe's black and white army' in defiant chorus to let the players know their appreciation for recent successes. Quite right too.

Deep inside Bournemouth had worried me. I thought they could test us but never dreamed of them scoring four. They had all the potential arriving on a 10-match unbeaten run. A well organised attractive team with a sound manager, they had a jinx on their old hero Howe who has never beaten them in six PL attempts with United.

The Cherries outdid us at our game...pressed high, bristling and quick on the transition, up for the fight, defiant in the face of crippling injury, a team of no stars where everyone was a star. They outfought United and how often does that happen? Hat-trick slayer Justin Kluivert came to one of the old homes of his dad and haunted us. In one afternoon he scored more SJP goals than his dad Patrick did in all of his single season here.

United looked shattered mentally and physically by their recent efforts especially in midweek. They were strangled to death by the opposition, gave the ball away cheaply under no pressure, and were always second best. Alexander Isak never got a kick, two young quality full-backs were skinned, Sven Botman lasted only until half-time, Dan Burn was sloppy, Anthony Gordon drained, Jacob Murphy one dimensional.

Bruno scored and played like a skipper anxious to rally demoralised troops and Sandro Tonali ran all over the place trying to put out fires but it all too little. Bournemouth were simply outstanding.

However as I have already said let us not forget what had gone before. One match doesn't turn a magnificent team into an average one.