IN the various sections of his introductory press conference as manager of Newcastle United, Alan Pardew spoke for more than half-an-hour. Put all of his words together, however, and they won't have said as much about the present state of the club as the image that greeted early arrivals to the press room at St James' Park.

One temporary backdrop, emblazoned with the logos of the various sponsors that provide financial succour to the Magpies. One table, complete with crisp white tablecloth and matching bottles of water, one sparkling, one still. And one chair, ready to be filled.

One chair. Not two chairs, awaiting the arrival of the new manager and the man that appointed him. Not even three chairs, awaiting the manager, the man that appointed him, and the man that appointed the man who did the appointing.

No. One chair. “Alan, you're by yourself now.” One wonders if that is the level of support he should get used to for the remaining five years, five months and 30 days (stop sniggering) of his reign.

There is, of course, no written rule about how to conduct a managerial unveiling. As a number of commentators have observed already this week, this is Mike Ashley's club and he can do what he wants with it.

But at almost any other club in the land, the departure of one manager and appointment of another would be accompanied by some form of public statement from the people in positions of power.

At Sunderland, it would be Niall Quinn, rallying Wearside's troops and renewing the bond between the football club and its hinterland. At Middlesbrough, when Gordon Strachan was dismissed in October, it was Steve Gibson immediately appearing live on BBC Tees and Keith Lamb sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Tony Mowbray when he was appointed shortly after.

At Newcastle, however, they do things differently. Silence, it appears, is golden, and almost like an ailing Communist state refusing to even acknowledge the existence of the outside world, the Magpies' hierarchy continues to fight a rearguard action from behind a wall of non-recognition.

Criticism about Chris Hughton's dismissal? Ignore it, and it will eventually go away. More criticism about Pardew's arrival? Why should we feel the need to justify ourselves to anyone?

So we are left with a situation where one of the most chaotic weeks in Newcastle's recent history – and that really is saying something – passes without a single public statement from the leading players in the drama.

Even in the most unstable of Third World countries, it is hard to achieve regime change in the space of two five-line press releases.

Ashley's long-standing mistrust of the press is well known, but in his brief spell as chairman, Chris Mort attempted to build some kind of a bridge between the boardroom, the media and the terraces.

Since being appointed as chief executive, Derek Llambias has torn that bridge down, and there is now no communication at all from on high.

Does that really matter? Of course it does. The festering discontent that contributed to Newcastle's relegation in 2009 is about to appear again, with demonstrations planned for tomorrow's home game with Liverpool.

Pardew, on first impressions an honourable man, will do his best to ensure any mounting anger does not filter through to Newcastle's players. It will though, it always does, and a season that has been testing enough already will surely become much more difficult as a result.

After all, it is not as though supporters are suddenly going to forget about Ashley and Llambias just because they assiduously shun publicity.

They might not have been present in person yesterday, but like the ghost at Macbeth's feast, they were there right enough in spirit. Not to mention in the answers to the inevitable questions Pardew was forced to field about his absent employers.

“I'm not friends with Derek, I've encountered him eight or nine times,” he said, in an attempt to reject suggestions that yesterday's appointment was based on a shared London social scene.

“I've bumped into Mike two or three times, but that's it,” he added, when the next name inevitably rolled around. “It's a shame for me because this London connection has been thrown at me. But I do not consider myself London. I managed last at Southampton and I live in Surrey.”

That is as maybe, but rightly or wrongly, Pardew's roots will inevitably see him connected to those above him. And at the moment, in the eyes of the supporters, it is a clear case of 'them' and 'us'.

Yesterday provided an opportunity for Ashley and Llambias to bring the two tribes together. It's hard to do that, though, when you only have one chair.