And so Laurel moves on without Hardy. Gilbert works away without Sullivan. Vinegar looks to make a place for itself without salt. Roy Keane and Alex Ferguson wish to announce that they are no longer an item.
They claimed it was amicable, mutual and all grown up. Roy Keane walks away. Dumped. Sir Alex Ferguson gets to keep the house and the kids. So mature. The statements released by both parties had the perfume of PR flunkeys all over them.
Lots of regret and respect and best wishes.
Keane certainly will have his regrets, missing out on a testimonial match worth five million in real money will be among the most nagging of those, but Sir Alex, it seems, gets the worst of the deal. This morning nothing, short of a great miracle, separates Manchester United from complete mediocrity. Soon Sir Alex will hear the soft plop of his P45 dropping through the front door.
If Keane's time at United ended badly yesterday, his abrupt departure suggests that there will be grimmer endings soon. For loyalists it will be hard to watch.
For 12 years Keane has been the luminous heartbeat and demanding conscience of a Manchester United side which achieved astonishing success. Even David Beckham, whose 40-watt intellect tends to preclude him from noticing things, was aware of the influence of his former colleague.
"I think Keane had one of the biggest impacts on a club any person can have," said Beckham yesterday. "I think we, the players, responded to him in every game that he asked us to. One day he could become a manager. . . I believe his potential to succeed is very high."
The precise details of Keane's departure remain a mystery to all but the overly certain practitioners of the tabloid arts. What we do know is that the relationship between Keane and Ferguson had deteriorated at a rate approximate to United's decline as a serious team. Everything else depends on who you believe.
Keane's rather sensational exit reminds us starkly that the Premiership is a planet we know little about. We know its native life forms evolved from us, but probably couldn't survive here on Earth. We know they are capable of thought, but not rational thought.
What we do know is that Keane's scabrous honesty and raging energy had begun to cause corporate Manchester United to shift uneasily from buttock to buttock whenever he started to speak. Downstairs, meanwhile, his caustic criticisms were scalding well-tended egos. In the end he was bundled away from sight, the boy who said that the emperor had no clothes.