We all know the jokes. Here's one: Thieves broke into the trophy room at Eastlands; police are looking for two blokes carrying a light-blue carpet.

Sorry, Manchester City fans, it doesn't matter if the humour comes from the Wheeltappers and Shunters raffle night or a black-tie dinner, the jokes still resonate.

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Make no mistake, this is one club where money can't buy me love.

It's easy to understand why Messrs Barry, Tevez, Adebayor and Eto'o have blue-sky pretentions. If I could earn that kind of money for finishing mid-table, I'd swap swanky Barcelona, cultural London and the serious side of Manchester for the set of Coronation Street.

And make no mistake, it matters not a jot who puts the shirt on, City will always be the joke team of English football. The circus is coming to town, folks, with very expensive clowns and a ringmaster who is more suited to a big top that can't get a license from the local authority.

I remember the City team of the late '60s and what a glorious side that was as they strode elegantly around English football. Brilliantly led by Joe Mercer and Malcolm Allison, the likes of Mike Summerbee and Colin Bell were a joy to watch.

But since their demise in the '80s, the club have moved around the country swapping divisions for breakfast and lurching from crisis to crisis.

And the money will not save them; the life of Vivienne Nicholson (the 1960s football pools winner) mirrors the life of City; spend, spend, spend until it all runs out and you are back on football's equivalent of the scrapheap.

How is Mark Hughes going to deal with the egos in the changing room? Certainly not the way Sir Alex does.

How is Hughes going to get 11 stars to play as a team? Certainly not the way Sir Alex does.

How is he going to keep going when a few results go against them? Certainly not the way Sir Alex does.

And, most importantly, how is he going to instil the pride associated with Sir Alex's red shirts into players for whom cash is the motivator to join the club?

If John Terry moves up north, he will regret the decision within a week. He'll miss the London banter, the London night clubs and the Lavender Hill Mob lifestyle he has grown up with south of the river. He'll be miserable with his 200k a week.

This is a football experiment that is going to fail. City are a pack of football cards with 52 jokers. And believe me, I am no fan of United.