Upon catching the latest smash-hit Looper at the cinema, it dawned on me that I have my own complex cycle of mystery much closer to home.

I can’t think of an appropriate term for this phenomenon but it’s all about trying to understand if moaning about the Albion is a lesser evil than moaning about those who moan about the Albion.

Furthermore, by writing this piece, is there now a critique of the moaners who moan about the moaners? And that’s before you agree or disagree with this piece which would again open up ‘the Loop’ on this most bizarre of Albion topics.

The crux of this moan culture, good or bad, is how we, as a fan group, are pragmatic about on and off field activities.

I’m drawn to conclude that modern football, with its plague-like dumbing down of the beautiful game and incessant thirst for success, has spawned a generation of fans who, like moths to a flame, have been drawn to clinical glow of The Amex expecting our international superstars to score some touch downs followed by a snappy but shrug-heavy soundbite from Gus about Wayne Bridge’s girlfriend.

But it’s not that simple. In fact, all of the above have been kind to us. Even the aforementioned Frankie from The Saturdays has made us the popstar club-du-jour for the first time since 1999.

Moaning has, in reality, probably been around since John Jackson started the club at the start of the last century. Back then, and over the decades, I’ve no doubt that there were moaners and non-moaners in abundance, very similar to today but with moustaches and flat-caps or flares and mullets.

Pragmatism and football are uneasy bed-fellows. I would consider myself a Seagull pragmatist but I wouldn’t begrudge somebody getting a bit touchy about Hammond being, well, a bit Hammondy.

The club is a polished product these days, not the sacrificial past-time that we followed by some entrenched default. Just because your season ticket isn’t in any danger of being binned the same doesn’t go for everyone else.

The club is selling something quite aspirational to the folk of our fair county and they’ve got a big old stadium to fill, so when the implied promises of consistent success don’t always deliver, we should probably become more thick-skinned to what we perceive an unfair heckle.

So who is worse? The moaner or the one moaning about the moaner, or me moaning about the moaners of the moaners, or indeed you if you leave a comment moaning about my moaning?

I need a lay down I think.