How do we define the biggest mug in a mugging? Is it the guy selling a dog that looks, sounds and smells like a rat? Or is it the stooge who has a good idea of what dangles beneath their nose but won’t sniff out the obvious? Or is it a third mug, the sort who is just happy to believe mugs one and two if Migi Almiron stays on as a Mag?
They are the sort of questions that have wafted in on the breeze in the past few days, or more precisely when we think about Newcastle United’s ownership and the associated stench of humiliation around the Premier League.