(Car) Toon Army may yet have the last laugh, but this whole business is not funny anymore. Really.

The English national pastime — except when they are winning the odd Ashes series, of course — is in danger of become the international fashion accessory of the world’s wealthiest men.

In the latest twist to a saga that is making Generations look rather bland, Newcastle United have now been linked with a possible takeover from Anil Ambani, one of the richest men in the world.

After the whirlwind happenings at Manchester City, one can only imagine the silent prayers emanating for the north-east of England. Like manna from heaven, Ambani would surely lift them from years of inadequacy, comedy and downright heartache. Or would he?

Like all of the world’s best businessmen, Ambani would never climb aboard a sinking vessel. And he would expect something for his troubles; perhaps not a trophy initially, but certainly a large return on his investment. And therein lies the problem with English football today. Increasingly, it is being taken over by shrewd investors more worried about the bottom line than the bottom three at season’s end.

At its height of feverish adulation, before today’s truly gargantuan weekly pay packets to mediocre players, the English Premier League was an affordable escape from the sweat and toil of a week’s hard labour for the fans. And how they worshipped it.

Every Saturday, religiously, they would congregate at pubs before making their way to their cathedrals, and to salute their saints in sensible boots. Up above, in the prawn sandwich seats, were aging, shrewd men who had stashed their life savings to buy their boyhood club and would do whatever it took — within financial reason — to ensure its long-term success and, more importantly, superiority to its biggest city rival.

European success, or even a brief continental sojourn, was a bonus. It was the league that mattered and the fans lapped it up. Then, with the turn of the century, major broadcast deals came, and with them the sharp-nosed investors intent on increasing their portfolio, with this fast-paced ‘soccer’. Before long, Roman Abramovich fancied a bit of the action, and since then the Glazers, Gillett and Hicks, Lerner, Ashley, Shinawatra et al have all jumped on the finest gravy-laden steamer around.

In recent years it was common for fans to love their clubs first — and hate Chelsea second. But that resentment for Russian rubles may soon not make sense, for Abramovich is not even the biggest kid in the playground anymore. And others are still coming. Whether or not Ambani takes over at St James Park is irrelevant. Someone will, soon enough. The English game has slowly but surely sold its soul to the biggest bidders. Behind the curtain of security that is labelled as ‘the richest league in the world’ lies the true description for the Premier League. The most precarious business in the world.

For these self-made oligarchs that are buying into it have vastly different values to the man, or woman, in the stands. For the fans, the game is an escape, a ritual, a lifelong affair. But for the men in suits, it is just another product that can be tweaked, maximised and then sold to the next daring bidder. They care not for points and relegation, more likely for pounds and inflation.

And they are ruthless. Where else in the world would you have seen one of the finest managers of his generation, troublemaker or not, fired for having a quiet season. Jose Mourinho — he of ‘Special One’ proclamations, conspiracy plots, insults AND five trophies in three years — was rid off as soon as he did not want to play to the tune of the Romanov.

Can you imagine where Manchester United would be if Sir Alex Ferguson had been dismissed in the early nineties, as he built his vastly decorated sides?

The threshold for failure in these money men is almost non-existent. The traditions of the English game have disappeared, but more worryingly, so has its soul. It is only a matter of time before one of these foreign investors gets bored of playing auction for the world’s most overrated talents, and calls it quits.

And then they will all ride away in their luxury spaceships. One by one …