In 1994, the KLF famously, and controversially, burnt £1 million on the island of Jura in Scotland. Depending on your viewpoint, it was grotesque and wasteful, or intriguing and challenging. The arguments rage because the key question has never been fully answered, why did they do it? 

One theory has its roots in discordianism, a philosophical view that rejects the idea that there is a fundamental order to how the world operates. Instead, the belief is that the world is random and chaotic, and interactions are entirely by chance. 

The perception of order comes from the idea that through this chaos, occasionally people’s thoughts and actions coalesce into something called a ‘thinkspace’ a kind of general way of believing and doing things. It creates a superficial illusion of order.

Supporting a football club is an example of a thinkspace – we all support the same team on a Saturday, yet there will be those among us that you will dislike intensely or have nothing in common with. For a discordian, this thinkspace is a special energy that binds us together temporarily; those who subscribe to this idea refer to it as magic.

The theory regarding the KLF – who subscribed to the idea of discordiansim – is that burning £1 million was a deliberately random act beyond anything you might describe as ‘normal’ and that they did it in the hope of creating a new thinkspace never previously experienced before. As it turned out, it didn’t, apart from the fact they were £1 million poorer, which is some pretty dark magic. 

As we continue to navigate the complexities of national mourning, we joined together in our illusionary thinkspace for the game against MK Dons. The club tried to maintain that most elusive of totems right now; ‘respect’, by playing subdued pre-match music. Think: fourth single from every Britpop album of the 90s. 

They needn’t, it’s hard to imagine anyone so sensitive to disrespecting the monarch 9 days into a 12-day mourning period is going to choose to attend a League One football game over, say, standing in a queue for 14 hours at Lambeth Bridge. 

The crowd fell silent as the captains – their combined age of 74 – had to endure the most intense coin toss in the history of football. Oddly, the teams, congregating around the centre circle, changed ends before Peter Rhoades-Brown read out his eulogy to the queen using the same standard template he uses for the passing of an ex-player, omitting her appearance and goal record, of course. 

The national anthem was mumbled awkwardly and finally, we were away. It was respectfully dire, two poor teams slugging it out woefully. Last season these were two of the best footballing teams in the division, a joy to watch, it felt like we’d grabbed ourselves a bargain – discounted Championship football – this season feels very lower league.

It wasn’t just the lack of entertainment, but the lack of any obvious plan to win the game. Ian Atkins never entertained, but we knew what he was trying to do to get the three points. Were we trying to get down the flanks to get balls in the box? Counterattack down the middle? Directly fires long balls into a target man? Who knows? There wasn’t any evidence of a plan, less still that it was working.

There’s often a fine line between an excuse and an explanation, and which it is will be shaped heavily by your world view. If you are vehemently pro-Karl Robinson; his arguments about our start to the season – that it hasn’t been that bad considering our injury crisis – can be framed as an explanation. If you are anti, this is just an excuse.

After 44 minutes of wading through sludge, Browne cannoned a shot off the post and the ball dropped to Brannagan to ping one off the bar. Rather than rally the crowd, it seemed to further dishearten them, a thinkspace of disillusionment. Seconds later, MK counter-attacked and took the lead via a John Mousinho deflection. Fine margins, argued Robinson, explaining or excusing the goal.

The second goal wasn’t fine margins, I could have joined the mourning queue, paid my respects and got back to the stadium between the moment it was clear Simon Eastwood was going to concede the penalty and him actually doing it. The only hope was that the referee might not give it because it was so boringly predictable. It wasn’t Eastwood’s fault, he had to go for the ball, the striker was always going to fall over and the referee performatively had to point to the spot.

Mousinho’s consolation and the ‘nailed on’ penalty appeal – presumably not given because the attempted clearance and hapless handball was so embarrassingly awful – brought a brief sense of fight, but any rescuing of the situation would have been undeserved.

Afterwards, Robinson pointed out that MK were celebrating their win while we were wallowing in frustration despite us both being on the same number of points. He didn’t point out that we’re both just two points outside the relegation zone and that MK’s fans were singing mockingly about how awful they are. He also didn’t point out that the teams below us are a who’s who of the teams we’ve played, above us is what’s to come. It’s like being on a ventilator in hospital claiming to be healthy because the bloke next to you is on a life support machine.

He also argued that he needed to protect his players because everyone is doing their best and you’ve got to consider the injury situation. Another excuse or another explanation? It’s certainly an explanation, it is what it is and he needs to avoid it getting worse, but it is also a reality to be navigated and we’re not doing it very well, given our ambition has to be more than just avoiding relegation.

Football fans will all view their club based on innumerable experiences and influences. Some will not like Robinson and want him gone, some will not like him and want him to stay. Some will like him and give him a chance while others will like him and feel he should be given more time. There will be many opinions in between those extremes and other arguments and dimensions to consider; it’s all very discordian. But, there seems to be a growing thinkspace that Robinson’s time is edging towards the end. Once you’re in the pull of that tractor-beam, it’s very hard to navigate your way out.