A sickening late goal from Kevin Thornton rounded off a truly appalling afternoon of laboured football which caused genuine anger among a suffering crowd, and left City still winless in the Championship.

Where has our bottle gone? Why have these sparkly new signings arrived at the KC without any ideas? The messy gutlessness of this display against one of the most wearisome teams to visit us in recent memory caused baying rather than weeping. The unsizeable visiting support must have headed back to their Meccano set laughing their heads off. They kept their game-plan, remained unruffled and won.

Phil Parkinson can wear his training gear and look like one of the lads as much as he likes, but clearly something is fundamentally wrong with his style and strategy if a team featuring clearly skilled individuals like Dean Marney, Darryl Duffy and Craig Fagan can't put together, prolong and finish a cogent attack. Our passing was negative and slipshod. We had no proper pace, despite having players believed to blessed with skipfuls of the stuff. And our set pieces would have embarrassed Orchard Park United under-10s and their replica Man City kit.

Mr Parkinson (I won't call him Parky until he's re-earned his jocular, knockabout nomenclature) picked a 4-4-2, allowing Duffy another go at proving that he has the spirit for the City cause to go with his (alleged) speed and positioning; and maintaining the unnerving sight of Ryan France scuttling up and down the left flank when he has no natural aptitude for that side of the pitch whatsoever. Still, needs must as our wingerless wonders emerged from the tunnel with Bo Myhill backed by skipper Andy Dawson, Sam Collins, Michael Turner and Sam Ricketts; David Livermore cleared the midfield cobwebs and allowed Marney to get forward ahead of him, with France and Fagan operating as the wannabe widemen; Duffy rejoined Jon Parkin in attack. John Welsh and Nicky Barmby were on the bench, when just about everyone wanted them in the XI.

With West Stand worryingly sparse as the crowd totalled just over 16,000, City began with much of the ball and, well, did nothing with it. Coventry were happy when they got possession, but seemed just as happy to allow City to keep the ball and prevent us from doing anything with it. A fixed three at the back system gave the visitors easy access to a marking job on Parkin, and notably the war was won by sinewy blonde bombshell Matt Heath in the opening ten when he clattered right through Parkin's ankles and went unpenalised for it. It left the Beast floored, hurt, needing attention and unwilling to challenge his centre back again. Welcome to the game, Jon.

Marney managed to spray one superb swerving pass through a tight channel for Fagan to sprint on to, but the latest ever waving of a linesman's flag brought that opportunity to a farcical close and epitomised some of the wooden, bamboozling decisions made by the officials, although little of City's general ineptitude could be put down to the men in black alone.

Fagan's willingness to chase, despite seeming less surefooted than normal when he had to make a dash, gave Marcus Hall one or two issues, especially when Parkin, in an effort to avoid another ankle cracker from the untouchable Heath, dropped very deep to receive a Collins ball and instantly sent a pearler into Fagan's eyeline. The misplaced striker managed to get there first, sliding a low ball tantalisingly Duffywards in the area until Elliott Ward, unwittingly but effectively, got a heel in the way. Duffy, in an unusual show of real fight and determination (normal service was resumed quickly, mind) then managed to struggle free of the meatheaded Heath only for the whistle to shrill for an unlikely foul as he swiped his snapshot a yard wide. This was the last we would see of Duffy, despite the Scotsman still partaking in another half hour or so on the grass.

Coventry finally decided to attack as Hall got clear of Sam Ricketts down the left and crossed for lardy zero Kevin Kyle to nod towards goal, although another odd whistly pull-up by the ref for a foul stopped Bo Myhill from bothering to challenge the ineffectual Stern John for the final ball.

City then forced numerous corners, all of which were delivered carefully and precisely on to a Coventry head by the frustratingly profligate Dawson, yet when one was carelessly sent back his way, the best chance of the match resulted.

Dawson's second ball went through a set of Coventry legs and gave France half a shooting opportunity, which was low and targetted and forced Andy Marshall into a one-hander. The rebound fell to Parkin who crucially decided he could look good and cultured in scoring, and his wimpish attempt to pass the ball into the net was compounded by a lucky set of Marshall's studs which somehow deflected the ball a yard wide. Parkin should have buried it and forgot about the niceties, and he deserved a half-time crucifixion for going for solo plaudits.

Marney made some late room for a 25 yarder which soared into the north stand and Myhill was grateful for the help of an incapacitating deflection from a brave Collins, which took any menace from John's late effort and made the save comfy. Half time, goal-free and thrill-free.

The second half was a cagier affair, with 15 minutes of scrappy, wasteful exchanges dominating the proceedings, not to mention a sudden inability by any of City's attack and midfield to possess a decent first touch. Marney, France and Duffy were all horrifically guilty of losing possession needlessly, although the exception was Livermore, whose facility of spraying simple, effective, time-winning passes to the flanks or to the defence and maintaining his circular boundary behind Marney made sure City stayed in touch with the ball more. His detractors know nothing about the job he's doing and should shut up.

Marney didn't deserve the freedom Livermore gave him, with his status as our great hope of a new vibrant midfield being sorely wasted on a lad who is patently not settling into new surroundings. He can pack a shot but doesn't get any share of them on target, yet the expectation is massive as every City fan saw the re-runs of that brilliant Premiership goal for Spurs when news filtered through of his signing and therefore he is naturally expected to do that at this level every time he gets a touch. He's proving a problem, and John Welsh's bit gets ever more champed.

On the hour, with Coventry making two substitutions, City tried to exploit the change of policy - no longer defensive, but super-duper defensive - which Micky Adams' had charmingly decided his team now needed. Bet their training sessions are a laugh a minute. But the Tigers had no ideas, which was why again Marney chose not to look for a run to the corner by an annoyed Fagan when given half a yard by Livermore and instead peppered another humdinger well wide of Marshall's post.

Mr Parkinson took off the boneidle Duffy and the unfit, unbothered Parkin on 67 minutes and it was a relief to see them both go. I'm on both their sides, as Parkin clearly is a threat and an anti-hero who less clodhopping defenders than Heath detest playing against, but he proved against Coventry that he has much to learn about the tougher end of Championship defending and that he has to take each knock and go back to take another one immediately. After Heath clumped him, Parkin stayed clear and hid.

As for Duffy, I'm so frustrated by him because he has the right instincts for goal and the pace to unsettle cement-booted stoppers, but he either can't judge City's tactics, is entirely ill-suited to them (in which case the coaching is at fault) or he is just too slothful to get involved. Maybe at City he is best as a substitute, as unswervingly proved last season. He's getting a thousand chances to do well and isn't taking them. Andy Payton was the laziest player I ever saw in a City shirt, but even he realised that when we attacked, it was kind of required for him to get involved at some stage.

For all the relief at seeing two feckless strikers go off, the replacements hardly set the game alight in their 25 minutes on the park. Ben Burgess went for headers, even won some of them, but his aim and his timing was all over the shop. Nicky Barmby, meanwhile, was shocking. Twice in rapid succession the East Stand rightly persecuted the ex-England international for putting simple laybacks to Dawson into touch, and thereafter his involvement was precisely nil. City were reduced now to three simple forms of attack which Coventry could deal with - Marney's wayward hits from distance; passes for Fagan's wide running which invariably ended in Hall taking the ball off him; or set pieces for which Collins and Michael Turner would gamely stride forward, with all the purpose and goodwill in the world, only to then have to scoot back at clembuterol-esque levels because the weak delivery had hit a near-post defender.

Kyle, who avoided a booking for a late shouldering of Myhill which even Nat Lofthouse would have struggled to explain away, swatted a rasping half-volley in an almost casual manner which the City keeper clawed away in a way designed for the photographers, then Collins got in a vital block as sub Dele Adebola fed Hall's overlap and was greedily anticipating the return with the goal at his mercy before the heroic City centre back put a foot in the way.

Collins deserves no criticism, which will come as no comfort at all to his numerous vilifiers as he was easily the pick of a generally sound City defence, with the expensive, slim and scared Turner still coming to terms with his rise. We're missing Damien Delaney like hell (not to mention Leon Cort), and at least Danny Coles is due to play for the stiffs this week, but when he is ready to come back, I for one would gladly re-grant Collins a place. Adversity seems to be something he can react to, as opposed to the criticism he took last year - rightly at times - during a season of welcome mediocrity. We'd settle for that now.

A booking went the way of sub Thornton after he tripped a full-flight Fagan. Normally I wouldn't mention this as the free kick was wasted, natch, but the linesman was so keen to signal this particular felony that his flag snapped under some particularly vigorous waving.

Arf. Let's all giggle. Something entertained us. Briefly.

City won a corner which was cleared to Marney who - yes - didn't score with another thunderbolt, although Marshall did for once have to work on the ball to keep it out. Then Fagan was kicked high in the air by the hateful Kyle who saw yellow. People were looking at their watches. The attendance had been announced and semi-applauded. Nearly over.

Then Coventry suddenly attacked, properly, dangerously, and City had no idea what to do. A clipped ball fron the touchline was taken by ginner Thornton on his chest, and he gently followed his path through a gap between Ricketts and Turner and struck home a left-footer which defied Myhill's reach and earned the points.

Considering the period of the season and the status of City these days, I found the jeers and insults being hurled pitchwards after the goal quite surprising, but the anger - real anger - was justified. City were abject and, while Coventry were equally incapable of looking like a victorious team, they had at least found the facility within them to put passes together, expose a weakness and score a goal.

City had five minutes, plus four for stoppages, to get back into it but there was no hope of that at all. The Tigers had absolutely no idea how to react. And still Livermore was the tidiest player on the pitch - but we were now behind and didn't need a holding player any more, as we had nothing to hold. The gaps which went unfilled by Marney's desire to get further forward and no other midfielder's presence as a support act were tiresomely exposed as Dawson and Ricketts swung balls in, Burgess invariably was beaten by a defender to them - and the clearances landed at the feet of Coventry players because our midfield wasn't structured correctly for the second ball. John Welsh, scorer of two against Coventry last season, was still on the bench. And stayed there.

The final whistle led to hoots of real venom and derision from the 14,000 crowd - about 2,000 had left in the seconds after the ball hit the net - and City prepare to go bottom of the table when Sunderland, anxious to impress psychopathic gaffer-in-waiting Roy Keane, win their game in hand.

I always look for positives in defeat. Collins, Livermore and, until the goal caught him out, Ricketts can escape blame. Fagan's effort was never in doubt even though he still isn't a winger, and never will be for as long as he plays near the white line. Wingers need to have the ability to beat full backs and cross the ball. Fagan's problem is more with the former than the latter, but often he has to do the former to achieve the latter. Which is a bit of a problem.

France was anonymous and desperately uncomfortable down the left; Dawson tried to lead but was let down by his terrible set piece delivery, and Marney, for all his promise, is on a serious misfiring spell. Our strikers need work on their fitness and attitude. Our squad needs two new wide men, another centre forward and a boot in the pants.

With next weekend off, the daunting Birmingham trip is next, a fortnight away. Now, by this time Ian Ashbee will have hopefully come through unscathed for the reserves. I found myself doubting whether our proper skipper and master would really be needed again at this level, but with his boyhood team looming and City urgently needing someone to bring them to book, the script seems to be written.

Even if Ash doesn't make it by then, the manager has to ask hard questions of himself and his squad, with Brum, Leicester and QPR away - plus Wednesday on the telly and the new club of a certain Peter Taylor coming back to the KC - shaping the next phase of City's adventure. For all the pessimism, frustration and standoffishness associated with Mr Taylor's reign last season, his side wouldn't have squandered a two-goal lead at home to Barnsley and wouldn't have lost this one either. We're losing games we deserve to lose and ones which we don't, and it needs sorting fast. (MR)