THERE’S a famous comedy sketch from the Sixties that pokes fun at the class system. I’m sure a lot of you remember it.

It had John Cleese, with bowler and brolly, as the effortlessly superior member of the upper class. Next came Ronnie Barker saying his piece as a stolid representative of the middle class. Then, at the end of the line, with cloth cap, muffler and a permanently stiff neck from looking up at the other two was poor little Ronnie Corbett, with his plaintive refrain: “I know my place.”

Strip away the hype and our revered Premier League is a bit like that, isn’t it? At the top, we’ve got the four elite clubs – aloof, aristocratic, immovable as any hereditary monarchs.

Then, there are a dozen or so middlerankers.

These footballing versions of Hyacinth Bucket are always trying to put on airs, but they’re nothing special really. And so to the serial strugglers, the Premiership proletarians, short of cash and maybe class. Not Shameless maybe, but often pointless.

Look at it this way and maybe exclusion from such a boring institution isn’t too bad a fate. Of course, I doubt if this argument will wash with Middlesbrough and Newcastle fans who feel let down by teams in which they’ve invested lots of emotion and money.

They shouldn’t feel too down though. I know I didn’t after listening to Boro chairman Steve Gibson this week. Gibson went public within 48 hours of relegation. He acknowledged mistakes had been made and apologised. In other words, he made the kind of public statement of regret and responsibility that it has taken us weeks to wring out of our politicians. He meant it, too.

Just as importantly, he outlined a plan for recovery and reconstruction based on a realistic appraisal of the club’s finances and players.

It was a prime example of the tough getting going and reacting to a bleak set of circumstances with dignity and good sense.

The question fans have to ask is whether they want their local club to be run by an offshore conglomerate or someone who realises that accountability is as important as accountants.

Do they want the person in charge to be someone who can find their way from Nunthorpe to North Ormesby without asking for directions or a faceless billionaire for whom Middlesbrough is a speck on a map?

Ask any fan what sets them apart and they would probably reply: loyalty. It’s ironic, then, that the main criticism of Gibson is his loyalty to Gareth Southgate, whose current stock is pretty low. Gibson made it clear that his loyalty isn’t unlimited, but he’s prepared to give his man a chance. When you look at the disastrous consequences of managerswapping that Newcastle and other teams have indulged in, that’s not a bad thing.

Perhaps it’s my unfailing optimism, but I really believe Middlesbrough can turn it round. So, I hope, can Newcastle, though they probably face even bigger challenges and expectations.

I hope, too, that Sunderland not only survive but prosper – and that the silly few who cheered their rivals’ demotion don’t end up regretting it.

Premiership football is important to the region.

It’s not as important as saving jobs at Corus; not as important as ensuring vital regeneration projects survive the credit crunch; not as important as making sure that a generation of sedentary youngsters enjoy playing sport as much as watching it; but important nevertheless. It reflects the pride and self-confidence we want our region to have.

So let’s support all our clubs and hope they can display that touch of class we’re waiting for.