Blimey. When I looked at the Norwich team sheet, I thought that we were going to be ripped to shreds. As it turned out, the most surprising thing was how absolutely, utterly spineless Norwich turned out to be.

Maybe they had a massive row on the coach (or with the coach?), or all got out of their respective beds on the wrong side that morning, but with the honourable exception of Dean Ashton, nobody in yellow and green looked remotely interested in winning this game. Ashton was combative, and within twenty minutes or so sported a Terry Butcher style bandage to prove it, but on his own he couldn’t do enough.

QPR played well, but not, to be honest, that well. We didn’t look as fluid as we had against Plymouth, but somehow by half time we found ourselves three goals to the good. Nygaard grabbed the opener with a header, then Furlong nicked the second from a Lee Cook free kick.

At that point, Bircham went off with a knock, on came George Santos, and my heart sank (along with a substantial number of Rangers fans who booed in response to his arrival). Here we go, I thought, time to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory - but no! Play continued for a minute or two, a cross came in, the ball popped out of the box to be met by an on-rushing Santos. Normally George’s idea of a gentle weighted pass ends up in row Z, so I didn’t have much hope - but miracle of miracles he hit it well, kept it low, and it thundered through a group of players and defected into the goal.

Forty two minutes gone… 3-0 up, am I dreaming?

The second half was bound to be tough. Norwich were bound to come out with all guns blazing. Nope. They made a couple of changes, but put in the same tepid performance. We didn’t really look like conceding, or scoring again, and the game played itself out.

All in all, a good performance. I have a few quibbles, but it would be churlish to complain. My only concern? That Santos’ goal might somehow get him back in the team!