Soviet Russia?

From the moment I tumbled out of bed and ploughed my toe into the door frame this morning I was quite sure that this wasn’t going to be our day.

This early trauma was followed by a nightmare day of irksome traffic jams, a panicking sat nav and, ultimately, a disappointing Reds defeat.

At half past five this evening I was parked outside an Asda, literally gluing bits of the car back together as goading Welshmen lumbered by. There can be no better allegory for Forest’s own fortunes.

Davies was left with no choice but to field a patchwork Forest side for this afternoon. The return of Cohen and Morgan gave a timely boost, but the team was tearing at the seams before the game had started.

For 18 minutes we staged an admirable impression of a team with no blemishes to mention, but their opening goal was a hammer blow.

The visiting supporters, in the strongest possible voice for the opening 18 minutes, were left brooding over the reality of defeat.

Forest’s performance degenerated in tandem. Gaps at the back became chasms, and individual errors became fairly regular. Long balls for Tyson were the spirited but futile response.

And through all of this, the Cardiff side we have spent the entire week quaking about were fairly dull.

The famous Cardiff supporters remained fairly unmoved too; their cauldron of horror and intimidation struck me as more like a drop-in centre for the mentally disabled.

Despite our own faults and frailties I did not once give up the hope of a useful point this afternoon.

We scrapped, hassled, battled and harried, all despite the shackles of a referee determined to blow up for every 50-50 and shoulder barge.

The problem was the lack of chances. Tyson was starved all afternoon, latching on to scraps and wayward headers with little effect.

Many thought his determination had brought us an equaliser. I noticed the referee’s gesticulations early on and didn’t bother to celebrate. Whether the goal was ruled out for the challenge on the defender or the goalkeeper I’m not entirely sure.

Cardiff’s second was an almost inevitable response to Forest’s subsequent sulking.

All things considered we probably deserved to lose, but only just.

The home side were organised and confident, but something tells me they were not at the races today and a below par Forest side was never more than a stride behind.

We did very little more than roll up our sleeves and ride our luck on through balls this afternoon, yet we still came desperately close to snatching something against one of the division’s stronger teams.

It makes it even more frustrating that Arthur is baulking over transfer fees – under sensible management we are clearly only two or three players away from being extremely comfortable in mid-table.

Stretched as we are, I am concerned about how many more times we will be man-handled out of the way through a simple lack of numbers. Building for the future is sensible, but why do players signed for a relegation battle necessarily have no use during better times? Baffling.

If next season does bring better times, I have almost no doubt that Cardiff will still be around to share them. They’re punching above their weight at the moment, and without their creaking hovel of an abode next season they may find themselves struggling for points.

The new stadium, for the record, is built in the car park of a supermarket and looks unashamedly as though it is made of Lego.

Residential Cardiff itself remains a colder and less welcoming version of Soviet Russia.