YOU’VE got to worry about Leyton Orient a bit, given their pre-season form. Fair enough, a draw snatched against Hayes & Yeading and a narrowish defeat by St Albans might be easily put to one side — but to score only six goals against Newcastle United? And to concede one?

Admittedly, it was a penalty, dispatched by Captain Sensible, aka Joey Barton. But why would you need to foul a Newcastle player in your penalty area, given the unlikely event that one of them might actually turn up there? All you need do is come up close and whisper: “Listen, you don’t need this, old chap. Why bother? You’re playing well below your station, you know . . . ” And he’ll nod in agreement and give you the ball. “Williams out!” I’d have been howling at the end of Orient’s humiliation. He’s not the right man for the manager’s job, Geraint Williams. A club of Orient’s stature — the biggest team in Europe — deserve somebody the entire world knows and respects, such as Kevin Keegan, Alan Shearer or Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

I checked out Newcastle’s odds for promotion and they are 9-2 favourites to win the league. And then one of those pop-up ads obliterated the screen asking me: “Do you dream of a bigger penis?” There is some sort of connection between these two little bytes of cyberstuff; yes, I do indeed dream of a bigger penis and I would like to put fifty quid on Newcastle at 9-2. I’ll be back in May with my betting slip and a ruler.

Newcastle could go either way — but not to the extent that 9-2 is an attractive proposition. That is the consequence of thousands upon thousands of loyal Geordies queuing up in Ladbrokes to queer the odds, possessed of rather more self-belief than, say, Mark Viduka (and probably thinner than him, too). It wouldn’t surprise me to see Newcastle in the bottom six come late autumn: it is all down to attitude, the attitude of the players and the fans. If the supporters start giving them stick when they are 1-0 down at home to Scunthorpe, desolation might well set in, especially if the club are on their eighth manager of the season by then and have just been sold by Mike Ashley to the Burmese junta for £9.50.

I hope Newcastle do okay, but it will be down to the speed with which they banish all thoughts of “trauma” at the “ignominy” of being forced to compete at such a lowly level. Ask Forest, Leeds, Wednesday and the Saints if you doubt that holding onto a big-club mentality is an enormous encumbrance when playing away to Blackpool in a howling gale in late December. My guess is that while they are the favourites with the bookies, none of the teams relegated from the Premier League will dominate the Championship this season, although Newcastle and West Brom might clamber into a playoff berth. Instead, this might be the year that the league flexes its more traditional, uncompromising, muscle — the two Sheffields, Nottingham Forest, Leicester City, Cardiff City and Swansea City kicking each other for the privilege of automatic promotion. Down at the other end, the wholly admirable Scunny will struggle unless their defence shows rather more resolution than it did last season.

The aforementioned Blackpool, with Doncaster and Barnsley, may also have a nasty time of it. I would like to include Crystal Palace in this category, too, but I think this is more wishful thinking of the Do-You-Dream-Of-A-Bigger-Penis variety.

Down in League One, England’s most useless footballing county per head of population might, at last, have something to cheer about. Huddersfield Town and Leeds United will be there or thereabouts by the end of the season, one would imagine, and I suspect there is every prospect of a thoroughly inebriated Delia Smith invading the pitch at Carrow Road in delight come late May. My own team, Millwall, slightly overachieved last season, although the 10 or 12 points we will take from Charlton and Leeds United should help us towards a playoff position. MK Dons, Colchester United and — as an outside bet — Swindon (a well run club these days, with plenty of money) and Brighton should be in the mix, too.

I would like Hartlepool to stay up for reasons that are far too complex to mention, but I can’t see it happening, and the same goes for Crewe and Gillingham. Southampton will finish mid-table at worst, unless they fold completely, to the sound of intense jubilation from Fratton Park.

The Sven-Göran Eriksson phenomena will surely be over before Guy Fawkes night at Notts County.

Sven’s footballing genius stretches to shepherding clubs to championships in leagues where there is no opposition whatsoever, having been given a vast bucket of dosh with which to do so. What is it about teams that play in black and white stripes that makes them think paying managers a ludicrous amount of money will guarantee success?

My guess is that Sven will leave early, having found nobody in Nottinghamshire whom he remotely wants to shag, and Wycombe, Shrewsbury, Northampton and Bradford will occupy the top four positions come Christmas. And I have predicted that Barnet will drop into the Conference every season for the last five, a tradition to be extended to the 2009-10 season. Or maybe they won’t.

Down here, below the Premier League, one never really knows, which is the joy of it all and maybe the point. Have a good season.