THE significance of those precious three points won against Southampton in the 1-0 victory at Turf Moor cannot be overestimated.

First and foremost it keeps Burnley on the shirt trails of the pack of teams battling to ease their way from the drop zone.

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It provides us with a small cushion as the Clarets embark on a tough run of four league games in thirteen days in the lead up to Christmas and New Year.

With three of those away at Spurs, Manchester City and Newcastle a combined attendance of around 140,000 can be expected.

Add to that our only home game against Liverpool which has been long sold out, so if there was any doubt that we are in the big time those figures are a timely reminder of the massive importance of Premier League status.

All the qualities that served us so well last season were wholly apparent as the Saints went marching out of Turf Moor with no points.

Team work, belief and that relentless desire to wear the opposition down were all back in bucket loads.

Danny Ings pounced like a predatory cat onto a sparrow to dispossess England right-back Nathaniel Clyne from a throw-in and then release Ashley Barnes, whose sheer determination got us the winning goal.

I have to say that I wasn’t at my vocal best in the upper Longside on Saturday, as straight after the QPR match last week my body started to go into meltdown.

My legs went wobbly, my throat was raw and I was starting to shake, all signs of post-match traumatic stress disorder.

It led to a week of little more than soup and crackers for food, with a resultant loss of 10lbs in weight on the soon to be patented Dave Burnley Extreme Diet.

As all men knows contracting this man flu is a hideous ordeal and a far more aggressive and virulent strain than the female equivalent – that can be treated with a packet of Halls Soothers.

Hopefully I’ll be back in full voice to cheer the boys on at White Hart Lane on Saturday.