A good night, Irene

We're loyal supporters, faithful and true,
We always follow the boys in Blue (and white),
We all made a promise, that we'll never part . . .
(Goodnight Irene)

I've been thinking a lot about those words today.
It's transfer deadline day.
The day when the football world goes mad, throwing around money like, well, Northern Rock and it's fellow merry bankers.
And every football fan in the land is either glued to Sky Sports News, listening to Radio 5, or trying to get updates from their club's websites.
I guess I've just about got over the horrible weekend Walsall hangover.
It's been a tough day though.
My baby's been sick.
The shower is leaking through the newly decorated roof of the room downstairs.
The car tax and credit card bill have needed to be paid.
And I've been trying to do everything with my fingers crossed on account of the fact that I feared that any moment the news would come through that our star striker Good Will Hoskins has been shipped out to someone for a vastly undervalued fee.
People like me don't give a damn about whether some loyalty tested Spaniard wants to switch from an American big business franchise to a Russian billionaire's playground (for those who don't know, Torres has airlifted his mighty wallet from Liverpool to Chelsea).
We haven't the slightest interest in the fact a much-travelled Irishman has moved from one London club to another (Robbie Keane's joined West Ham on loan).
Or that the trusty board of Newcastle have "turned down" a move from Liverpool for their key striker Andy Carroll, only to have a change of heart when the value increased by £5m.
It's all monopoly to us. A long, long way from reality.
All we want to see flicker across the screen, or get a mention on local radio, or flash up on the Gas website, is the fact we have added to our depleted ranks and managed to hold on to our key players.
Until very late in the day - and this transfer window seems to close later and later these days - the only bit of business we had done was to hold on to the defender Dave McCracken we had loaned for a month from Brentford.
Good news indeed.
Then as I was putting away the last of the dishes, saying goodnight to the Mrs and considering turning in myself, I learned that not only was Mr Hoskins going nowhere, but we had signed on a tough tackling Congolese midfielder JP Kalala from local rivals Yeovil.
Not an earth-shattering addition, I'll grant you, but by his disciplinary record alone it sounds like he isn't the sort of player who will play the shrinking violet when things become a bit tricky.
Welcome, JP.
The whole sorry transfer merry-g0-round got me thinking, though.
While loyalty seems such a cheap commodity in football these days, there's no transfer deadline day for fans.
You can't just reach January 31 with your club in the bottom four and decide: I want out.
As the song, our unique anthem Goodnight Irene, says: "We all made a promise, that we'll never part..."
And despite the hammering at Walsall and previous batterings that we have suffered in this god-awful season, the one thing that stays "true" to the Blue and White Quarters is the thousands of Gasheads who "always follow", maybe not pitchside at the Mem every game but around the globe.
Our players may let us down more regularly than we would like, but we won't let them down.
It's time to give them a chance, the new manager a chance, the new signings a chance and, for 20 games, urge on the Gas . . . not necessarily the club we chose, more the club that chose us.
Hopefully, when we see you in our dreams, you'll still be in League One come May.