They were still singing long after the full-time whistle blew: first as they squashed down the platform at Kew Bridge, then slipping a few octaves down the stairs at Vauxhall before blearily serenading on the concourse inside King’s Cross St Pancras. The trail of noise had blared almost constantly since the 33rd minute at Brentford, to the tune of joy, irony and outright surprise, and there could be no doubt that it belonged to the unlikely hero of Newcastle’s new era.
“He’s Brazilian. He only cost £40million. We think he’s f****** brilliant. It’s Joe-lin-ton.”
