Should Rob Andrew require a sneak preview of what awaits him at Kingsholm today, the Gloucester supporters' website will put him straight. "Just to show what a forgiving lot we are," read one of the more printable messages, "why don't we give Rob the chance to read his apology out to us over the PA?" Someone else had a better idea. "A polite smattering of applause when Newcastle run out on to the pitch, then the sound of 10,000 people hissing when Rob the Gob takes his place in the dugout should do the trick." Those kind-hearted Shedheads never could resist a high-profile easy target.
To be fair, there are also some Gloucester fans sounding a mite apprehensive about this afternoon's hyped-up Zurich Championship quarter-final against the Falcons. Of course the unproven racism allegations directed at Olivier Azam in December inflamed passions, but the last thing the club wants is for Andrew to be the victim of anything more than a few ribald cat-calls. Having regained the moral high ground via Andrew's belated public apology last week, not many are keen to hand it straight back.
The most intriguing figure in the whole saga, however, remains Andrew. Few in rugby project a more measured, sensible image for six days of the week than the man his England team-mates used to call "Squeaky" (as in clean). On the seventh day, however, should his cherished Newcastle side lose or suffer an injustice, a post-match Dr Jekyll-style transformation can occur. In addition to the Azam affair, Leicester, Sale, Clive Woodward and assorted Heineken Cup officials have all felt the blast of sharp-tongued opinions over the past two seasons; Andrew rarely has a hair out of place but he knows precisely how to ruffle the feathers of others.
Perhaps therein lies the key to the Andrew conundrum: even those familiar with his neat, unthreatening exterior tend to forget the ultra-competitive, stubborn streak of Yorkshire-born alpha male lurking within. Ask the former England fly-half, for example, whether he now feels, with hindsight, he was out of order in his outburst towards Azam and it could be Geoffrey Boycott sitting opposite. "Not really. Certain things happened, certain things were reported to have been said and a couple of inaccurate things I said were dealt with last week. I've no qualms about going back. It's up to the Gloucester supporters how they behave and I've no doubt they'll behave sensibly. They're very passionate, they're very hostile but they're not stupid."
He has even less time for the argument that the whole messy business, along with the unsatisfactory Martin Johnson punching row and Rotherham's non-promotion, runs counter to the massive efforts of so many, not least himself, to develop an attractive professional game. "Listen, let's not pretend everything is ever going to be perfect because it won't be. We're in competition with each other, so we're going to have flare-ups on and off the field. It's all part of the mix that is sport. Let's not make it bland, because that's not what people want. It's a physical contact sport. What do you expect?"
Even the Kingsholm faithful, for once, will be tempted to agree with Andrew. Where would rugby be without an emotional edge? What director of rugby can possibly keep his cool 24 hours a day?
"It's not an easy job. We all find matchdays pretty stressful. They're tough matches, hard on the players and you've got refereeing decisions which are pretty hard to understand sometimes." Another gratuitous dig? Or just plain-speaking truth? "If you don't have a passion for what you do, you shouldn't be doing it. I get charged but I don't think I go over the top."
Andrew even claims to be looking forward to today's heightened atmosphere. "I don't mind these situations. I enjoy them, I thrived on them as a player and I'm trying to instill the same in our players. They didn't back off at Gloucester in December, when it was pretty unpleasant. You have to thrive under pressure if you want to be successful."
And say what you like about the 39-year-old Andrew, he does not fail often. Newcastle are to upgrade Kingston Park, their youth development and community schemes are first-class and Andrew, who left Wasps to kick-start the professional revolution in the autumn of 1995, wants to stay in the north-east until at least 2007.
His critics, he insists, are missing the bigger picture. "It's too easy for people to be negative. I've never been as positive about the professional club game as I am now. Who would have thought three years ago, when we were about to go down the plughole, that Newcastle would be embarking on a £12m redevelopment project? People focus too much on the niggles."
Whatever abuse he receives today, neither sticks nor stones will shake Andrew's steel-rimmed confidence in his own judgment.
