Getting a bit beyond a joke this, Mr Taylor. The pub at lunchtime was perfectly fine, but the serving of chips was firmly on the stingy side. The traffic jams that impeded escape from Rochdale after the match were an absolute disgrace. Oh, and it rained too. Sort it out, Taylor.

Yes, to be a Hull City fan is to be never satisfied, but for all our lamentable manager’s failings as pub chef, transport planner and cloudbuster, yesterday’s breeze at Spotland provided no basis for complaining about the football. Everyone played well, we won convincingly, and in the second half we ripped respectable opposition to shreds. It was terrific stuff, it sends us gliding up into second place in the table, and regular repetition of this sort of excellence will soon hoist us to the top of the pile. Permanently. And then we’ll find something else to moan about.

On top form were:

Musselwhite
Hinds Whittle Delaney Dawson
Green Ashbee Keates Elliott
Alsop Burgess

We trotted out menacingly, all in black, forcing the match officials to select a garish canary yellow, and soon made a positive impression in front of a large and buoyant Tiger travelling support numbering a good 1,750. Burgess was fouled by his namesake in the Dale side, and the free-kick rapidly transferred the ball to Allsop, who turned neatly, only to shoot wide. Rochdale replied in kind, as the nippy number 9, Shuker, who is on loan from Manchester City, put a decent effort the safe side of the Muss’s post. And then our Aussie hitman was gifted another shooting opportunity by sloppy defending, and his firm shot cannoned to safety off a startled and rather fortunate home goalkeeper.

It was a lively opening, with the sides looking well-matched, but both playing with a shade too much haste and therefore too ready to squander possession.

The Muss made a complete clot of himself as he tried to shepherd the ball over the dead ball line for a goal kick, and instead conceded a corner, at which he tried to redeem himself by haring off his line to clutch the ball, only to flap dismally and set up a Dalester for a shot. This struck the post, but Keates was patiently stationed hard by the upright, and the danger was more apparent than real. But I don’t imagine anyone sees the Muss having a future in our goal in the short-term, never mind the medium-term. Up the other end now, and a Green corner is met by a diagonal run from Elliott, who has comprehensively escaped his bemused marker, but his firm header strikes a defender and runs behind for another (and fruitless) corner. Next up, Burgess powerfully robs an opponent of the ball and rolls an inviting pass forward to Alsoop: he takes the ball on, pauses just inside the box but, before he shoots, he is thwarted by a perfectly timed tackle.

Half-an-hour’s lively football; nothing much between the sides, though we are superior measured by goalscoring opportunities created. Entertaining to watch. But the final fifteen take us up to half-time in increasingly grey and drab style. Rochdale have banished the tricky Shuker to the left wing, where Hinds is visibly uncertain whether he should man-mark or hold his normal position. But since Rochdale have evidently decided not to pass to Shuker, it doesn’t much matter. The play is mostly in our half, but the home side are short of penetration, and the only real scare arrives in the single minute of added time when a misjudgement by Delaney permits them a chance, but the ball is hoisted over the crossbar.

No score at half-time, but it’s all very – and gloriously – different after the break. If Mr Taylor’s dressing room instructions were carried out to the letter then they must have been something like: “Destroy them!”, or perhaps more plausibly “For me, to be fair, you’ve got to destroy them a little bit”. Whatever: the ensuing 45 minutes were wonderful, as we created chance after chance, while allowing Rochdale scarcely a glimpse of our net in return.

Burgess knocked a long ball down into Green’s path: he slipped a pass through to Alspo, who took a touch and was then cleanly tackled just as he prepared to shoot. Dawson whipped a gorgeous cross in from the left on to the lurking Aussie’s forehead, but this time he steered a header a foot or so the wrong side of the near post – the best chance of the game so far. Burgess skilfully knocks the ball down once more and his Australian partner is in turn again the subject of vigorous defensive attention that forces him to shoot just too high.

Rochdale were suffering now. We were using both flanks to great effect, and the quality of the delivery was excellent from both sides, with Dawson looking about as good as you could hope for from a bottom Division left back. Midfield was more than holding its own, with the irrepressible Keates right back to the summit of his game, while both our strikers looked unstoppable, both individually and as a pair.

All it needed was the richly deserved opening goal. And it came when Dawson once again sped down the left wing and sent a hugely inviting cross curving across the face of the Rochdale goal. It was just too far in front of both our marauding frontmen but Stuart Green had made an alert run goalwards at the back of the box and, as the ball bounced on to reach him, he was able to provide a meaty header to bulge the net, and send the travelling support into an explosion of glee at the sheer quality of this football.

We weren’t satisfied. The second goal was the product of fine work down the other flank, and a long cross by Green sailed all the way to Justin Whittle at the back of the box. The mighty Justin picked his spot and aimed an assured header back towards the edge of the six-yard box towards the lurking Ben Burgess, who showed supreme agility to twist and crash an unstoppable shot into the roof of the net.

It had been a spell of brilliant, even inspired, football. Who would fancy tangling with us in this new black kit? We looked as hungry as panthers out there. Black has a plausible claim to be the new black, I feel, and it sure suits our men. So much so that the on-target Burgess whipped his shirt off, and proudly brandished it in front of the slightly puzzled City support.