Strugglers Preston swot aside a lacklustre Tigers side that threatened early on but capitulated meekly once the home side opened the scoring.

Report by Steve Weatherill.

On the windy summit of Winter Hill in Lancashire, watching the red sun set slowly behind the sharp lines of the Denbighshire hills, your intrepid band of travellers paused yesterday by an imposing pillar. Not the bogfast Ordnance Survey Triangulation Pillar (though of course we paid homage to that whitewashed gem too). A gaunt obelisk marks the bleak spot where in the 1830s a Scotchman (as they were doubtless called in those days) was 'barbarously murdered'. Little did we know we would be witnessing a further barbarous murder only a few short hours later. For Deepdale last night played host to a royal, snorting, savage and grisly thumping for our boys last night. 3-0 against a team rooted to the relegation spots all season? Barbarous, but self-inflicted. Assisted suicide.

The positive side? For an hour there was little to choose between the two sides. The negative side? They scored then. And after that we desperately looked for sources on the pitch and off it able to inject some spirit of resilience into our tottering line-up, but we looked in vain. This was meek, this was sorry, this was not a display that made any sort of case that our squad is functioning as a committed, self-confident, well-led unit.

A mild night in Preston, and with Deepdale's previously ramshackle Eastern side now transformed into a flatted plot presumably waiting for a new and functional stand, we lined up:

Myhill
Ricketts Brown Turner Delaney
Garcia Marney Ashbee McPhee
Campbell Folan

Sort of, anyway. McPhee was as much, maybe more so, a forward as a midfielder. The one change from Saturday being the relegation of Windass to the bench, allowing the long-socked Folan to start.

A chance on 6 as a corner is unconvincingly cleared out to Marney on the edge of the box, but he smears a wild effort far adrift of the goal. Does he practice his shooting? It's glaringly the weakest part of his game, but while he is in general a much improved performer this season I'm not seeing any improvement in this area. Get yer head over the ball son. Not that difficult.

Preston? Well, the last time we sighted them, but a short month ago, they were busy doling out Tupperware gift sets and small plastic shepherdess figurines to a departing manager for whom they had no obvious regard. They have quickly discovered greater purpose and potency, or at least have had it imposed on them by ferret-faced former Everton number two Alan Irvine. They are passing the ball round with a degree of slickness in the early stages and look a capable enough side, especially when the ball goes near Patrick Agyemang, a traditionally large and rather less traditionally pacy and nimble striker. Agyemang is involved in the scariest moment of the opening period when he is the victim of a clear foul which is not given by referee Bratt, whereupon, as if distracted, Myhill, in possession, rolls the ball forward into a horribly dangerous area, and eventually, after an unhelpful contribution from the startled Ashbee, a rebound pings off a Prest before flying back and just wide of Myhill's right-hand post. Amateurish stuff.

On 22 Brett Ormerod slides down the right and pulls the ball back invitingly for Sedgwick near the penalty spot, but he flaps a shockingly poor left-foot shot ten yards over Myhill's bar. Then, on 24, Folan storms through their defence thrillingly, all pace and power, before crashing a fierce shot against the exposed Lonergan's near post. Fine football.

PNE, with Ormerod off after half an hour and former Blackburn hopeful Gallagher on, are mixing up ball on the ground with ugly but direct. We're keeping ourselves entertained by saluting our stretching subs, and are entertained in return as Deano reacts with mock indignation to the 'There's only two Deanos' chant: one, he insists, just the one. There's moments to enjoy on the pitch too, notably on 39 when a cute ball into the box by Delaney forces hurried defence to crowd out the prowling pouncing Folan. It's reasonably lively, it's very even.

And it's half-time.

The wind begins to gust through the break and as the second half gets underway the conditions are a shade less favourable for football. But still, as the game settles down, there's no hint of the carnage to come. On 55 Campbell puts in a good shift down by the by-line and cuts the ball back for McPhee close by the penalty spot. The Scot's shot is fierce, Lonergan's parry unconvincing, but the keeper shovels it away when on the very verge of fubletude. Then on 60 McPhee tries an ambitious pass designed to reach Campbell in a crowded penalty area and the ball is intercepted. Five seconds later it is sitting on the right boot of Patrick Agyemang in space behind our defence and a split second after that it's nestling in the back of our net.

Don't blame McPhee. He's lost possession, but he's entitled to try and open up the defence from that advanced position. In fact, it's his job. Quite where the midfield (especially) and defence had vanished to as Preston whipped the ball downfield to their striker, I cannot say. But progress was serenely unhindered. Agyemang, impressive throughout last night, took his chance nervelessly, but will have been astounded at how much time and space he was permitted.

Still. One moment of inattention. There's nothing between the sides, and we can claw this back. No need to panic.

In particular, no need to rush two subs on to the pitch.

Mr Brown rushes two subs on to the pitch.

They are Windass and Okocha, and I'm pleased to see them both, I suppose. But I am puzzled that Folan is withdrawn. He's made more impact than in any game since he revealed his sizzling pace on debut at Blackpool and, in fact, Folan himself looks mystified and crestfallen to be fingered for the walk of shame. So too McPhee, as lively last night as in any game this season, yet now hauled off without ceremony.

The game re-starts and immediately - immediately - young Campbell pulls up with an obvious strain in his left hamstring. He limps around helplessly for a few minutes, before having to come off. Our third sub is Livermore (and Garcia is now to be pushed up front).

Did Mr Brown get his substitutions wrong or was he unlucky? Both, I suppose. I like my managers to be lucky though.

Next minute of the game. Preston work the ball down their right, swing it in from right to left, we're torn apart horribly, devastatingly and the ball is blatted into our net at the back post via a despairing defensive deflection.

There is a bit between the sides now.

Okocha's a genius, mind. He turns away from one man with astonishing ease and slips a deft pass into the inside-right channel, perfectly weighted for Garcia. But the Aussie punts his shot wastefully wide. Then on 75 a decent move culminates in Garcia, who's dropped cleverly out at the back-post, heading the ball back square across the goalmouth to Windass, who swings his leg and completely misses the ball. Shortly afterwards Okocha threads a pass down the right to Ricketts whose cross is met by a Garcia shot. Blocked.

Isolated moments. It's tame now, we're tamed. There is, Okocha aside, nothing useful emanating from midfield. Chasing the game is not Livermore's forte, while Marney is having his first poor game for quite some time. Ashbee is rarely to be seen. He was disturbingly off the pace on Saturday and the same is true, with a bit more emphasis, tonight. Plus points? Delaney took some corners. He wasn't bad. But, o dear, by now this performance overall is really, truly bad. Tired, dull-minded, thoughtless, truculent. City have turned into Morrissey.

88th minute. Preston work the ball down their right, swing it in from right to left, we're torn apart horribly, devastatingly and the ball is blatted into our net at the back post via a thud against the underside of the crossbar.

Not for the first time. Might it, perhaps, be thought that we are defensively vulnerable down our left side?

3-0, large sections of our support perform the increasingly traditional 'walk out well before the final whistle because the players haven't shown PRAAAD in the SHAAIIRT', and the misery limps to its conclusion. Barbarous indeed. Self-inflicted to a dispiriting degree.

I wonder how Mr Duffen feels about all this? The right way to look at our current position is to feel relieved, and cautiously optimistic, that we have landed in mid-table after a season flirting with relegation followed by a season courting it with an ardent intensity not seen since Mr Rigsby's pursuit of Miss Jones before finally, unrequited, watching as the cad spirited Leeds instead off to the altar. From that perspective we're satisfied (but little more) with Mr Brown's work, I suppose. I doubt Mr Duffen feels like that because he has none of the weight of history that is borne by all Hull City supporters. He doesn't know our world before about March 2007, and he's not a Hull City supporter at all, the lucky chap. He knows he's stretched our finances to the limit (and very probably beyond them). The result is a squad as strong as most in the Division, a point our Chairman has not been slow to make just lately. And yet it's thrown up a team capable of surrendering meekly at Hillsborough, Loftus Road and then last night at Deepdale. Playing to its full potential? I think not. And don't make the mistake of thinking clubs can build a promotion-winning side slowly in this Division. Those days are gone. The vast wealth cascading into the Premiership courtesy of the new television deal means that henceforth the three teams that come down to our level are going to be very short-priced favourites to go straight back up again. I suspect Mr Duffen is not treating a run towards the PlayOffs this season as a step forward in the gradual development of our club, he's treating it as an opportunity that may never again loom so invitingly. That, I suspect, is why Mr Duffen has sanctioned the acquisition of so many old players. It's short-term but right now in this Division everything is short-term. Right or wrong, I doubt Mr Duffen will show much patience. The pressure is on Mr Brown.

HULL CITY (4-4-2): Myhill; Ricketts, Turner, Brown, Delaney; Garcia, Ashbee, Marney, McPhee; Folan, Campbell.  Subs: Okocha (for McPhee, 62), Windass (for Folan, 62), Livermore (for Campbell, 67), Dawson, Duke.

Goals: None

Booked: Turner

Sent Off: None

PRESTON NORTH END: Lonergan, St Ledger, Mawene, Chilvers, Hill, Sedgwick, McKenna, Davidson, Whaley, Agyemang, Ormerod.  Subs: Gallagher (for Ormerod, 31), L Neal (for Whaley, 87), Mellor (for Agyemang, 88), C Neal, Carter.

Goals: Agyemang 60; Whaley 68; L Neal 89

Booked: None

Sent Off: None

REFEREE:  S Bratt

ATTENDANCE: 11,311