Wolves captain Karl Henry was right – if not quite how he imagined he would be.

This was ugly and certainly something no-one with Wolves in their hearts wanted to see, especially manager Mick McCarthy and more than 2,000 travelling fans.

But the bloodbath predicted by the skipper spilled solely from the wounds a rampant Stoke inflicted on his team’s survival hopes, leaving behind a patient now critical in the Premier League’s relegation ward.

Yes, McCarthy’s team now looks very sickly indeed. And, with four games remaining, they have to come up with something which based on their current form looks beyond them.

In the past four games, they have taken just one unconvincing point against Fulham and – crucially — shipped 12 goals.

Thus, the advantage in goal-difference they had enjoyed over their nearest rivals in the struggle to survive has been squandered.

Their form has deserted them and so, it would seem from this display, has their inner belief, one of the core ingredients which has held them together in times of stress.

At a time when Wolves desperately need goals and points, you cannot see where the next of either is coming from.

They  were obliterated at the Britannia Stadium – swept aside and blown away in an hour of vibrant, power football by a team and a club electrified by their ascent to English football’s prestige showcase, the FA Cup final.

There may have been many times when the successes of their Staffordshire neighbours’ have been given only grudging acknowledgement, amid the arguments which continue to rage about their methods.

But not last night. There were no complaints and no whingeing from Wolves and nor could there be.

Stoke, inspired by the game’s two dominant figures in Kenwyne Jones and Jermaine Pennant, shook a shaky opponent until it had spilled three goals and closed the fixture as a meaningful sporting contest by early in the second-half.

They were quicker, stronger, tougher, overpowering and – well, just better in every department.

McCarthy was asked afterwards if he could think of any positives to come out of the miserable experience and cited only Wayne Hennessey’s goalkeeping.

With good reason, too, as Hennessey more than once rescued his team from suffering even greater punishment.

Actually, maybe McCarthy missed one other slither of comfort as he tried to come to terms with how and why it has all turned so horribly wrong for his team since the high-point of victory at Villa.

Back starting a game for the first time in 18 months was Michael Kightly, who may – just may – be able to shake off some of that injury-enforced rust to come up with a moment between now and the end of the season that makes a difference.

But that Wolves are clutching at such frail straws says much about where they are now.

To be fair, McCarthy has run into a crisis of personnel at the worst possible moment.

With only one senior striker available – Steven Fletcher – he opted for a five-man midfield with Michael Mancienne operating as a minder in front of the defence.

It was a redundant posting because Stoke simply bypassed him and it wasn’t long before Mancienne was given the unenviable task at left-back of dealing with Pennant, while the ever-game Stephen Ward tried to offer Fletcher support up front.

But Stoke, pausing only to digest sombrely the sight of Matthew Etherington being stretchered away with a hamstring problem which could deny him a place at Wembley, dismissed these movements as the triflings of an inferior adversary.

Of all the concerns McCarthy will hold for his team, nothing will occupy his mind more than the collapse in confidence of his defence as illustrated by the creation and execution of the home-team’s first goal after 15 minutes.

Jones held off Jody Craddock to control Robert Huth’s long ball forward and flipped a pass out wide to Pennant, who advanced to the fringe of the area before taking out Wolves’ entire back four with a peach of a cross.

It hung in the air invitingly for Jones to attack with a goal-scoring header from between Craddock and Richard Stearman.

That pretty much set the tone for what was to follow. Jones inflicted torment after torment on Craddock and Christophe Berra while, out wide, Pennant produced one of his most effective displays in a somewhat patchy Premier League career.

One delightful touch-pass – yes, this is still Stoke we’re talking about – played in Andy Wilkinson who would have scored, had Hennessey not finger-tipped his angled drive away, before the goalkeeper saved his team again with a point-blank stop, after substitute Dean Whitehead had pierced Wolves’ flimsy resistance from midfield.

But a final flurry of pressure in the closing minutes of the half did further damage to Wolves.

Hennessey was able to reach a Ryan Shawcross header from another teasing Pennant cross but the corner which followed was pulled back to the edge of the area where Glenn Whelan lurked.

His first time shot pin-balled its way to the feet of Shawcross who could not miss – and didn’t.

The savaging was then completed with another snapshot of the match eight minutes after the break.

Ineffectual possession ended with a mis-placed Mancienne pass which springboarded Stoke on to a counter attack.

That finished with Jon Walters picking out Pennant at the far post for a mis-hit effort which deflected off Craddock – and into a corner of the net even Hennessey could not reach.

Yes, what could go wrong, did go wrong – leaving Wolves to wonder whether anything will go right for them before it is too late.

By Martin Swain