Charlton 2 Watford 3 It wasn’t the hope that killed us, it was the dynamic duo of Alan Pardew and Phil Parkinson, the latter now in many fans’ eyes more culpable than the former. Certainly Parkinson has garnered fewer points than Pardew in the same period. Perhaps he is more affable; some say "more Charlton," although I’m forgetting what that means. What he is though is a qualified disaster.

I was one of those that held him partly responsible for went on before, but was willing to give him a chance, I even ascribed to the fact that he had put together his own team and it had an embryo of a brighter future. Blimey I was born in the morning but it wasn’t yesterday morning.

After four months of Parkinson’s reign, what exactly do we have to look forward to? A few youngsters, some crap, some overpaid, some disenchanted, a number of loan players and just one or two to admire that will be out the door as soon as you can say "football agent."

Six must-win points were an absolute must this last week but we got a fat round zero. We didn’t come close, we didn’t even lose in style, and that is my final point, a point that has become all to clear to us Addicks. Our team is so short on ideas, skill, aptitude and pride that the club is forcing people away. I know people who would mortgage their kids to get to an away game, who would rather buy a season ticket than go on holiday, these lifelong Addicks are on the verge of walking away.

I don’t happen to care if we are shit, but one needs something to cling onto. Whether it’s playing the game the way it is meant to be played, or having heroes, however limited they are, that are prepared to wear the famous red shirt with as much pride as I do.

The future is dark, and Parkinson is the prince of it. If we are to have any hope, he has to go.

Melancholic Addicks: Blackheath Addicted; Drinking During the Game; From The Hill To The Valley; Kings Hill Addick; Charlton Athletic Online; All in a Day.  ¶ 22:36