1. Hang on, haven’t we already played these? For reasons best known to themselves, Derby decided to turn up in fancy dress: “Sorry, Nige, I’m right aht of Brazil 1970 and England 1966,” said the man in the costume shop. “Forest’s European Cup winning team, y’say? Well, I could order it for ya. Tell ya what I ‘ave got: Coventry City 1989. It’s on special offer.”

With a line-up featuring Robbie Savage, Lee Hendrie and Paul Dickov – a Sports Personality of the Year shortlist in an alternate, much more tetchy universe, possibly one in which Craig Bellamy is prime minister – and a formation built from concrete and asbestos, it’s actually quite hard to believe that we didn’t lose to Coventry yesterday. Derby are dreary, ugly industry in an old Coventry kit. But we’d do well to remember our ambitions weren’t exactly sky-high in August either.

2. As churlish as it always seems to whine about the referee after a defeat, an already cold, dull afternoon wasn’t exactly improved by Mr K Stroud. One of those officials who sets daft precedents: a couple of innocuous fouls early on requiring him to blow his whistle for every bit of physical contact thereafter; an early booking for Jon Harley when a lecture would’ve sufficed, leading to a rash of yellow cards for nothings and somethings alike. The inevitable result is that the rest of the ninety minutes turns into an administrative chore, like spending two hours in the spectators’ gallery of a magistrate’s court in a rural village.

3. So, anyway, let’s not put it off any longer: Derby completely out-witted us. As tempting as it always is to blame our own failings – of which there were some, but probably no more than on several occasions when we’ve emerged with beaming smiles – the match was mainly about the little bit of turf in front of their back four. There, Robbie Savage was nailed to a post like a scarecrow, barely moving more than twenty yards during the entire game; he did exactly the same job, and to the same effect, as John Eustace on his debut against Wolves a couple of years ago.

Aware that most of our attacking interchanges – the sly balls into Danny Graham, the bursts from Tom Cleverley, the cross-field switching of Don Cowie – take place in that area, Derby simply occupied that crucial space from first to last and effectively eliminated the threat of all three in the process. Add some tight pressing in other areas – particularly out wide, where, with Cleverley placed elsewhere, we lack anyone who’ll take on and beat an opponent – and you’ve got a perfect recipe for containment. We were trying to play expansive football in a broom cupboard. A rite of passage for a young side, in many ways; challenges they won’t have faced before.

4. And for a young manager too. Because in a game that always looked like to be settled by a set piece, there was no obvious change to be made: the most keenly-felt absence was that of Henri Lansbury, someone to provide the option of an extra body in midfield, an occasional unexpected charge forward, and a bit more height at corners and free kicks. Needing to bypass a midfield that we couldn’t play through, we found ourselves in a contest that played to very few of our strengths; even then, even as the defeat seemed utterly inevitable, a couple of the hopeful lobs towards the penalty area nearly fell for us late on. A game of small margins.

5. Let’s not be downhearted, then. A season ticket to Vicarage Road has thus far offered quite fantastic entertainment, even allowing for intermittent reminders that we’re not the finished product. And that there will never be a finished product, given that we’ve borrowed several cups of sugar from the neighbours. This, on the other hand, was cold and brutal, a dry Ryvita after we’ve got used to buttered crumpets with raspberry jam. It was a defeat born of our opponents’ pragmatism, their clinical and cynical determination to prevent us from doing what we do best; that’s to their credit, much as it was also to our immense frustration.

But there’s a healthy pragmatism in our dressing room too, it seems to me. Without any pompous pronouncements about how football should be played, we’ve attacked with dazzling, inspiring, thrilling verve much of the time; it’s hard to recall a Watford side capable of quite so much excitement without invoking Graham Taylor’s name. The previous manager’s dogmatism has fallen away: the point is that we’re playing like this because there are enough teams in the division who won’t get tight enough, who won’t have Robbie Savage patrolling that bit of space, who won’t concentrate all of their energy on denying us any room in the final third. It’s our best bet, with what we have available. It’s got us to tenth at Christmas-ish, which is not far short of a miracle. We just have to persevere, nothing else for it.

Five thunks from the evening the earth stopped turning.

1- There’s only one place to start. Time stands still. The rain falls upwards. Lloyd’s goal was just a marvellous, beautiful moment; like much of the Rookery, I had imagined Ellington turning around and celebrating. Identifying Lloydy’s frantic, helpless ecstasy elevated celebrations to a whole new level. How to do the event justice? Well we had a good go… the atmosphere had been flat as our bluntness, shorn of H and Lansbury, saw us struggle to make much of our superior possession. After the moment? Pure joy. Not (much) triumphalism, just a thoroughly happy, bouncing crowd, as if we’d all just shared some kind of epiphany. And the mood was shared on the pitch, as our game took on a joyous bounce. The only slight disappointment was that Messenger was driving, and had hence foregone the option of going to the bar before half time…

2- QPR look a state, particularly in front of goal… but this was still a gutsy, unlikely win. Any number of previous vintages of Watford team would have crumbled in the face of Patrick Agyemang’s goal (and it’s peculiarly solemn celebration); the Lloydy goal defined the match, perhaps we wouldn’t have won the game without such a momentous turn of events (our movement and composure went to pot for five or ten minutes before the equaliser). But whatever the circumstances we came from behind two days after defeat in Newcastle against a side with an extraordinarily star-studded bench. Big grins in Hertfordshire.

3- Liam Henderson. For the first time, we get it. Some great touches and contributions from the young striker who, as my brother observed, has shoulders that begin around his ears. His lack of pace is likely to limit how he can be employed, but there’s something there to work with OK.

4- Fitz Hall. So very nearly three red cards in his last four visits (which also saw the play-off scrap with Boothroyd). Damion Stewart could also have gone as Rangers lost their composure.

5- Some tremendous performances all over the pitch. Great to see Demerit’s decisiveness back in the side, even if he looks a strong candidate to depart in January. Lee Hodson is just wonderful. Don Cowie improves with every game. Lloydinho’s performance was magnificent even if one (ha ha) discounts the goal. And Tom Cleverley, in a central role that might have challenged him, looked tidy, quick, clever, tenacious. What a player this lad is going to be.

Five thunks from a comprehensive victory over Scunny…

1- The more this goes on, the greater is the credence to the argument that we’re not playing a succession of bad teams at home… we’re making teams look bad. Our midfield was again phenomenal, Lansbury and Cowie in particular standing out, and that movement and ball retention is going to expose plenty of teams, even those that haven’t had to cope with an early morning hotel fire alarm like Scunny. It could have been six.

2- With half an eye on the recent trip to West Brom, Palace and Newcastle could both be interesting. Scunny tried to bully us in the first half, indulged by a refereeing performance that reached extraordinary levels of preposterousness after the break, and more experienced, more solid teams will do so better. How we cope with Warnock’s trolls and mutants will be informative.

3- No weak performances today. Not one. And Lee Hodson is just bloody ace.

4- It really nearly happened again, didn’t it? And this would have been a beautiful moment for Lloydy to open his account, what with Grant absent at a photography course (I ask you!) and Messenger having already departed for his half-time pint. I do hope it happens when Messenger’s at the bar…

5- Scunny do seem to like their gobby little strikers. A visit to Glanford Park a few years ago was dominated by Martin Patterson (now Burnley) mouthing off incessantly, this time it was Gary Hooper. Like Patterson, a decent looking striker, but he didn’t half go on… Scunny looked tidy in the final third, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

Five Thunks from a fun-packed evening at Vicarage Road.

1- Well I have to confess to not having seen that coming. The continuing absence of H and the Duke still on the bench didn’t particularly lift the spirits on the way into the ground either. It’s never as much fun as when you don’t expect it, is it…?

2- Speaking of which, Angela’s performance had not been suggested by his previous outings. Strong, confident, elegant, direct, and utterly unplayable. More please.

3- Having said all of which, Wednesday were pretty shocking. They were ropier than us defensively, and whilst Tudgay looked sharp there was next to nothing going on around him. And quite what Michael Gray, the most left-footed player ever, was doing on the right flank is beyond me.

4- And not wishing to focus unduly on the negative, but Scotty really does need to start coming for things and knocking opponents out of the way whilst doing so. It’s not as if his centre-backs are really big enough to do the job for him…

5- Having, whilst hanging the washing, frequently overheard two of my younger neighbours debating the various merits of the big four ad infinitum whilst kicking a ball around, I took the bold step of inviting the pair, both nine years old, to watch, you know, a proper football match, in the stadium and everything. The morning after, both are gushing about the experience and Josh is wearing a brand new replica shirt. My work here is done… (with a bit of help from Angela, Danny, Tom et al).

Five thunks from the horror show at the Vic

1- Well where to start, really. Defensively, a side that was holding it together quite convincingly earlier in the campaign really isn’t doing so at all now, and that goes for the entire team, not just the back five. We could really do with a gnarled old boot like Mackay or Dyche (of five or so years ago…) in there shouting at people… since the back four are individually more than adequate, but about as watertight as, well, something with ruddy great big holes all over it at the moment.

2- Cathcart in particular, had a horror show – his stupid and utterly unnecessary tug on Bothroyd, who was heading towards the corner flag and would have managed an off-balance shot at an impossible angle at best, resulted from Cathcart losing his concentration and his man again, just as against Leicester. He failed to cope with the unlovable Bothroyd throughout, and isn’t inspiring confidence at the moment. Reports from Plymouth suggest that this is a cracking defender in the making but perhaps he needs a dominant figure alongside him. Unfortunately the same goes for most of our centre-backs, including our visually impaired absent captain.

3- Two weeks’ respite might give us room to wallow in our miserableness, we could certainly have done with something from the home games this week, but it might also herald Helguson’s return. Danny Graham, suddenly looking far from confident in front of goal, could do with that boost. No pressure again then, H.

4- Would welcome readers’ views on Hoskins… my view from the Rookery was that he’d done well enough to last an hour without contributing an awful lot, and was certainly adding nothing by the time he came off. My brother’s Upper Rous view sparked a furious defence, he should never have been taken off, had a great first half, everyone mistakes his good bits for Cleverley (possibly true). My feeling remains that whilst Ellington will not (one hopes, for the sake of our wagebill) be a long-term solution, using a hungry and effective (if over-eager) player as cover for Helguson makes rather more sense than persevering with the ineffective Hoskins.

5- It’s odd… logically, after a game in which the difference between the sides was far larger than any margin that might be attributed to erroneous refereeing decisions, one ought to be able to sit back and marvel at a particularly spectacular demonstration of how not to referee a football match without getting bloody angry about it. Alas, I am unable so to do. Andy Woolmer missed two clear penalties (one for each side), was constantly behind the play, was horrifically inconsistent in what he chose to penalise and has seemingly never heard of “playing an advantage”. After a similarly chaotic visit to Vicarage Road for the Sheffield Wednesday game last season, Mr.Woolmer’s name becomes one to look out for.