A weak and unmotivated Luton side is swotted aside 2-1 allowing the Tigers their first two wins in a row streak since New Year's Day.

As I opened the door on my return from Kenilworth Road last night and flicked on the light, the first thing that my gaze fell upon was a white A4-sized envelope, with about an inch of Season Pass Renewal Form peeking almost sheepishly out from the end, still on the chair onto which I had tossed it, with a combined sense of denial and apprehension (a bit like you do when the post-Christmas credit card bill or an envelope marked "Her Majesty's Revenue & Customs" flops onto the mat), after it had arrived on Saturday before the Preston game. As anxious as I was to crawl under the duvet, I found to my pleasant surprise that the overwhelming temptation swirling round in my sleep-and-Horlicks-deprived mind was actually to remove the form properly from its envelope, read it, and actualy feel just a scintilla of anticipation about the whole process of signing yet another one-year extension to my City contract (or at least no longer be in denial about It).

Now, of course, any City fan of any length of the tooth who gets too carried away about a couple of wins on the bounce against somewhat underwhelming opposition deserves nothing better than a severe slapping about the head and torso with a Millwall Brick made from old Sports Mail reports of previous City false dawns, but it cannot be denied that, for a few days at least, we can all breathe a little easier this fine nearly-Spring morning, for a couple of reasons. Obviously because of the result itself and the attendant three points and further climb up the table, to say nothing of the fact that we now have a four-point cushion over third bottom (so we can afford to lose at Blunderland - that's right that is) but probably more so for the fact that, after the teeth-grinding frustration of recent displays against the WS, Barnsley, Coventry and most recently and famously Ipswich, we finally followed the textbook on how to get it right in a game in which, on paper, there should have been something for us. This is a vitally important development when our four remaining home games are all eminently winnable, and to do the business at the Circle would see us safe without a doubt. Indeed, a couple of points on the road as well and some bloke behind me last night reckoned that that puts us in the Intertoto, although an away pre-season friendly at Queen of the South, which would allow us to visit the nearby location for the shooting of the final scene of the original "The Wicker Man", could be just as much fun.

Anyway, and moving swiftly on, Kenilworth Road, the white of its Boulevard-style floodlights providing a sharp contrast to the sea of yellow sodium glare all around you as you cross that footbridge on the walk up from the town centre, is as uniquely and reassuringly familiar as ever, but have you noticed how, as you make your way through the arches and onto the metal stairs leading to the back of the away stand you never see any of the local residents sat on the thunderbox? I suppose that you have to sit and hold it until everyone is safely in the ground and hope that some latecomer doesn't catch you unawares.

The City support looks as though it numbers 800 or so - a commendable turnout for such a distant midweek fixture but no doubt boosted by southerly-based City exiles - an estimate based on the fact that the turnstile operator wrote "705" on my ticket stub (which could just as easily have been some local gang code for "eliminate him", I suppose) and that I entered the ground about seven minutes before kick-off. But it's disappointing to see tracts of empty seating at the other end, and indeed Sky reported the attendance as 7 777, a sad reflection on the attitude of the public of Luton to their team's plight. Indeed, as one or two commentators have already observed on here, those Lutonians who did bother to turn up weren't exactly frenzied in their efforts to get behind their team: I don't remember a single Luton chant, and even their goal was greeted with not much more than a "yup", as per the famous Jasper Carrott story of his trip to Old Trafford. It's as if they accept that their flirtation with the high life is now over and are all a bit weary of it; watch out for the same from Colchester next season and the Scunts the year after that. A good job the Tiger Nation was in fine voice.

Right then, Browny kept faith with the XI that saw off Preston, and rightly so, and we lined up in stripes but with amber shorts, kicking towards the City support in the first half, as follows:-

Myhill
Ricketts Turner Delaney Dawson
Parlour Ashbee Livermore
Forster Windass Elliott

Giving no sign of what was ultimately to be a lacklustre performance on their part, Luton, mindful no doubt of their PA man's exhortation that this was the home side's "biggest game of the season so far" set off with no little intensity, and it was all pretty frantic stuff early on, with City having to close down and block and having little opportunity to make any inroads into Luton territory and Tigerfans exchanging sideways glances and little grimaces. But for all of this early pressure, and a bad foul on Elliott on 4 which was probably the by-product of Luton's pumped-up attitude at this stage, our heroes stand resolutely firm and give the home side little scoring opportunity, and there are twelve minutes on the clock before Boaz is called into proper action, stooping low by the near post to pouch with aplomb a well-struck but speculative long-range effort. This marks a bit of a watershed, as we have worryingly done little up till now, but we start to get into gear and indeed the Hatters' faces a bit more, There follows a fairly scrappy spell, not helped by the desire of the appropriately-named referee Olivier repeartedly to steal the limelight by the award of a succession of free-kicks for really not very much (one of the features of last night's game was the number of dodgy free-kicks awarded to Luton in dangerous positions). But we are stout, and despite a potentially-crucial blow on 20 when Forster has to go off with what looks like some sort of hamstring problem to be replaced by Vaz Te, within a couple of minutes, and on really the first occasion we threaten, we storm into the lead.

And it all begins with Vaz Te himself, who pokes the leather out wide into the path of the onrushing Ricketts, who glides down the flank before delivering the perfect cross. Deano and Livermore move towards it, but it's our Doug who gets the nod literally, rising above the defensive challenges (from about the very spot where the Master Butcher scored the winner in that famous cup-tie, seasoned Tigerwatchers may care to note) to plant his header with pinpoint accuracy just inside Beresford's left-hand post. Seamlessly exquisite, and greeted with predictable near-delirium from behind the goal and a predciatbly-understated reaction from the scorer.

Suddenly the tension is lifted, and we play with calmness and authority. We might be in with another chance on 26 when Vaz Te ghosts into space almost unnoticed in a manner rarely seen outside the Premiership, but the expected ball from Ash is overhit (our captain, as he did on Saturday, tended to express himself by means of the "hit it as hard and far as possible" strategy whenever the leather came his way, but having said that when he tries to be composed it's probably time to put your tin hat on and dive under the table, so let's not be too fussy, eh?). But we're all over them now, and after a Vaz Te effort is deflected over force a number of corners just after the half-hour mark one of which Turner, yet again confounding his early-season doubters, narrowly fails to convert, the third and final of these results in Turner and Beresford clashing heavily but fairly, the latter crashing groundwards and laying prone on the turf for some minutes under the care of the physio and doctor before finally being stretchered off and replaced by Brill.

We continue to call the shots without ever really looking to add to our lead, and indeed when Luton force their first corner on 42 it's the first threat of any kind they have posed for fully half an hour. To be fair, though, we're not letting them play. The corner comes to nought, and there's five minutes' injury time due to Beresford's injury which pass without incident, although Daws foolishly gets himself a yellow for an unecessary scything down of Foley. The applause for the Tigers at the half-time whistle is deservedly generous after a mature, accomplished performance.

No Marine Commandoes or NOTW-sponsored dancing girls at the interval, although the pies are piping hot and served by attractive, articulate and smiling young ladies, and even the ketchup's proper Heinz. And off we go into the second period, carrying on very much where we left off; obviously we don't know what was said at half-time to his troops by Newell (who, despite his often-querulous nature (well, he is a Scouser) and tendency to open his mouth and stick his size 12 in it, you have to feel for a bit, having seen the squad he has put together and climbed two leagues with have the guts ripped out of it with no sign of any money being given to him to replace the likes of Howard, Nicholls and Vine, and he did say on Radio 5 after the game that we "probably" deserved to win, which is the nicest thing he's ever said about us), but there's no sign of a reprise of the "up and at 'em approach which characterised the performance of the home side in the corresponding stages of the first half, and you sense that they sense that City have this one under control and that it's not going to happen for them.

But to the depressives among us there are a couple of things that are a bit disquieting and which will ultimately conspire against us in the end. The first of these is the continuing succession of harsh free-kicks to Luton in threatening positions, and the second the increasing perception that Boaz doesn't look at all comfortable when dealing with crosses tonight, although he had so little to do in the first half it's a wonder his limbs didn't seize up. But anxiety never quite becomes the predominant emotion as it's all ticking over nicely, without too much happening, although on 58 a fine Dawson cross just evades Vaz Te.

Just over the hour things start to warm up again, though. Firstly Ricketts slices a clearance directly into the TV gantry, prompting suggestions that that would make a good half-time competition for the fans and a pleasant change from trying to hit a ball into a car boot or roofless shed (maybe even DeVries Honda could offer a car as a prize and then impose a set of rules designed to ensure that the chances of sucess are lower than that of winning the National Lottery jackpot and being kicked to death by a hamster in the same period of 60 seconds). More importantly, Livermore is booked for a foul. But more importantly still, we go two up. And it's Livermore (what an acquisition he's proving to be) who starts things off with a deliciously curling ball into the box from wide on the right, and Turner who finishes things off with a perfectly-timed run to the edge of the box followed by a lethal right-foot volley which positively screams into the net giving the home custodian no chance as he dives to his left. I had to see the goal again on the box this morning to appreciate just what a fantastic finish it was, as from my vantage point low down at the far end I had Turner much nearer the goal than was in truth the case, although the pace of the shot probably had a lot to do with that particular deception. But Turner, eh? OK, he took some time to settle down, but so did Delaney and Corty, but what a steal at £300K. He was immense on Saturday, immense last night (although a big clap for all the back four) and sealed a vital win. And he just seems to get better, so no more adventures with Coles, eh, Browny?

2-0 is a dangerous lead as we all know, and suddenly, with the Tiger Nation is full voice, we are under the cosh a bit as Luton press forward frantically. But we should make it three when Elliott sets up Vaz Te only for the City no 26 to slice the leather wide. And then we are pegged back after yet another of Mr Olivier's trade mark free-kicks. Myhill, who worryingly has flapped at one or two crosses during the eveinng, gets nowhere as near to the whipped-in ball as he bloody well ought to have done, and Talbot heads easily into the unguarded poke to muted acknowledgement from the home supporters.

Dry mouth time, folks? Well, actually we should have gone on and put the game beyond any doubt, and to be sure had the chances to do it. Vaz Te was put through by ( I think) Livermore, but having ridden the defender's challenge and finding himself one-on-one with the keeper he opted to get the ball onto his right foot and pulled his shot wide as a result; I was a bit cow's-arse-and-banjo, you have to say. The Potuguese striker is in bad books again on 78 when after Parlour, who gave another highly solid no-nonsense, no-risks performance, had tidied up in midlfield and fed our Stu, the resultant cross saw Deano's effort blocked and fall to Vaz Te, who could only stab it tamely at the keeper when he really had time to pick his spot. He could then have had what would have been a hat trick inside three minutes when a flick through sends him away but Brill saves well. Our loanee's frustrating evening is capped when he's booked for a bit of schoolboy dissent.

As the Oak Road end thunders to the strains of "Phil Brown's Black and Amber Army" with "We hate Leeds" in the pauses, we have a penalty appeal turned down, when Livermore and Elliott combine to get Parlour into the box where he goes down heavily: not nailed-on, but seen 'em given......

And then, after Barmby has come on for Deano, who had a good evening but is no doubt looking forward to his fortnight's rest, instead of the 4-1 it should have been it's so very nearly all square, when a volley clips Turner's shoulder and changes direction heart-stoppingly, but Boaz turns hero from villain and twists in mid-air to divert the leather over the bar; truly a match-winning save and, if you'll excuse the use of a hackneyed expression, one which may well define our season.

Luton are frantic now but, one or two moments of slight anxiety aside, threaten nothing, although, after Elliott has gone into the book for dissent and Coles has come on in a straight swap for Parlour (the only explanation for which must have been that Browny just wanted him on to give him a bit of a psychological boost after Ipswich) we are downright sloppy on 89 and allow their number 30 to weave into the box and a shooting position from the right. Mercifully the shot flies over.

In one last desperate attempt by the referee to make his mark on the game, the board signalling four minutes' injury time doesn't get raised until fully 92 minutes are on the clock, but not much happens in the final stages as Luton seem to sense that this is beyond them. You do however wish that we would, at such a stage of such a game, try and just keep possession a little more and not continually try things that might result in the oppo getting the ball.

But the night is ours. We are worthy winners, and the reactions of the manager, players and of course the exultant fans say it all. This was a massive win, but to an extent it only acquired that mantle because we have consistently failed to do something simlar against the likes of Barnsley and Coventry. A week has made an immense difference, and we have now bought ourselves a well-deserved bit of breathing space, but we must press on. The solution is there, and it's in our hands now.

HULL CITY (4-3-3): Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Delaney, Dawson; Parlour, Ashbee, Livermore; Forster, Windass, Elliott.  Subs: Vaz Te (for Forster, 19), Barmby (for Windass, 80), Coles (for Parlour, 88), Marney, Duke.

Goals: Livermore 22, Turner 62

Booked: Dawson, Elliott, Livermore, Vaz Te

Sent Off: None

LUTON TOWN: Beresford, Foley, Barnett, Heikkinen, Davis, Bell, Keane, Langley, Emanuel, Carlisle, Talbot.  Subs: Brill (for Beresford, 33), Feeney (for Langley, 46), Morgan (for Emanuel, 56), Coyne, Runstrom.

Goals: Talbot 70

Booked: Barnett, Carlisle

Sent Off: None

REFEREE:  R Olivier

ATTENDANCE: 7,777