There is, lying deep within every City fan of a certain age, a worm of doubt. It sits there and leaks a steady stream of gentle negativity into your brain. I’m of that age. I remember. So this ‘Champions’ talk that commentators rock on about when City are playing still feels like the last vestiges of a particularly stressful fever dream from last year. Every time there is a minor setback along the course of the season the worm asserts itself again; ‘Never mind,’ I say. ‘Been plenty of seasons where we’ve won nowt.’ And I sink back into my seat and think about the summer of 2005 where re-signing Kiki Musampa on loan was a high point.

The slightly surreal notion that the bipedal Panzer tank called Yaya Toure actually plays for City still hasn’t properly settled in my mind. I’m beginning to wonder if it ever will. This uncertainty of a ‘culture of success’ which is apparently being built is compounded this season by the presence of a couple of slightly disappointing signings. ‘That’s more like it,’ runs the thought in my head as Jack Rodwell looks on forlorn from the physio bench and Scott Sinclair makes blistering 90 second cameos. Appearances where he showcases what it is like to be a regular sized fish in Keith Moon’s luxury swimming pool.

If all this sounds unnecessarily negative then, well, that’s because it’s difficult to shake the 90s. They were pretty formative for me. I’ll get over it sooner or later. Probably when City convincingly qualify for the next stage of the Champions League one year. Which they will. Probably. Because these guys in charge mean business. Read David Conn’s book Richer than God. They mean proper bloody business. And, all negativity aside, I’m pretty chuffed they mean business with us. I mean, we’re on the telly all the flippin’ time now. This Sky sub is no longer explained away as being ‘for the cricket’.

I should probably say something specific and tactical and up to date. So with all that ‘football is life’ stuff out of the way up there, here goes. To win the league City need to do one simple thing, rewind time (TARDIS, DeLorean, fly round the world backwards – not fussed about the method) and make sure they buy Robin van Persie. As it turns out he really is one of the best strikers in the world and if you lose a league on goal difference his uncanny ability to put ball in bag will tip a balance.

In the unlikely event that Arabian moneybucks can’t buy that solution I prescribe the following: continue to lobby ACoN to stop nicking Yaya (Go Kolo, be free); persuade the Prem to allow Kolarov a ‘special teams’ place on the bench where he comes on to take free kicks; only let Milner or Aguero take the penalties in the fresh gaping absence of the best pen taker ever; gaffer tape gag Alan Hanson whenever he’s due to pundit on City matches; cast a protection spell on David Silva; elect Vinny Kompany as the well spoken mayor of Manchester (now also instated as the capital of the country) and, most importantly, replace Mario.

There’ll be Mario talk elsewhere but for now, who do City look at for options to replace the special one? There’ll be speculation about the likes of Falcao, Cavani and Co but the reality is that RvPs don’t grow on trees. Perhaps we’ll give young John Guidetti a go, maybe Attilio will step in off the coaching staff or, most likely, we’ll launch a barrel-load of cash at an exciting player. But I bet he won’t be as exciting as what’s gone before.

(Written by Chris Warrington)