No Flood In Super Sunday Snore: Celtic 0 ICT 0

After a semi-final win, as usual as the other night, you, for a few days, gloat and feel smug at the outcome. It's also a natural reaction look back wie a sense of satisfaction of what you have achieved, even though, really, you have achieved nothing.

I don't get this: "Awe, I feel sorry fur Dundee Utd, they didnae deserve that". They widnae have said that if they had got to the final. They would have took great pleasure, them and the press, off rubbing oor noses in it.

The PLC (boooooo) and the manager (slight boooo) like turning over Dundee Utd as for the 2nd year in a row we have taken their best player (maybe), at this stage of the season, which is sadomasochism on the scale of yer average Tory party conference.

My acceptance of the Willo Flood signing, wie a shurg and a ho hum, coupled wie the hope that it will work rather than the promise that it will, as a sign of the transfer malaise that I feel every window. I have gave up hope of getting what I want.

The constant coverage on Sky Sports News, on which Jim White has just shouted; "The Transfer window slams shut in less than 24 hours", thanks for that Jim, is as adictive as free crack cocaine. Also, the number of transferwatches on the 'Net that puts an end to yer productivity at work and take up yer lunchtimes are just as bad. Most of the time you just end up flabbergasted at the money and wages being offered for these average players.

I just feel like an ootsider looking in. I feel like a snooper, searching buckets and staring in peoples homes in the hope to see how the other half live.

The manager and PLC play a part in this as well. They have been constantly soundbiting that they no longer can compete wie the bottom half EPL teams and they warn them, like a modern day Gandulf, of impending doom to the English game.

 But.....part of me is warming to the feeling, while at the sametime knowing the facts, that they are just buttering me up for a skinflint policy, which I have been brainwashed into accepting players like Willo Flood, who I feel is a decent player, as the level- £50,000 transfer fee- we need to operate at. 

I do blame the media for the inflated market. The media pay inflated prices for the product, which in turn means teams can play inflated prices for players to play in this inflated product. The players see the inflatedness of his product and go: "I want some off that". The chairmen of teams not involved in this inflated product also want some of that inflatedness, see Hibs and Fletcher, Steven.

Listening to The Guardian podcast the other day and they were wittering about Phil Jagielka being a bargin buy. A £4m bargain buy plus, the EPL average, £30,000 a week wages, which means the deal as a whole is £10m over a 4 year contract. Bargain indeed.

The media are not to blame though for oor £38m wage bill and it's lack of quality and as the transfer window slammed shut the feeling of being used, abused and bemused. This window has proved to be another victory for prudence over need and the PLC can claim another victory over the hindrances, which the transfer window brings.

While understanding the necessary restraint required oor dealings, or lack of them, make Spurs quest to reunite the Carling Cup Winners squad of 2008 seem like a sensible thing to do.

It's always a worry when you check the weather report as eagerly as you would check yer squad lists before a game. The stadium under the bridge is, and it fights of some stiff compo for this title, The Worst Stadium In Scotland and it also puts meat on the bones, of the myth, that Trolls live under bridges. Celtic don't like trolls. 

It's a stadium that I have driven over but never been in. It seems to be situated on land that should be set aside for a Seal Rescue Sancturay or a fish farm and not a fitba' stadium. Mind you, it disnny seem to see much fitba' being played when we visit.

It's a stadium I have never been unlucky enough to obtain a ticket for. Like Aberdeen it's up there on the trips you want to go on as where else can you drink a pint at 9.30am and not be looked at like Ollie Reeds bastard offspring?

The lines between a social occasion and the reason yer going to Inverness in the first place get blurred. It's a bit like going to watch darts. They are not going, to sit 200 yards from the board, to watch the top quality arrows, closely, they are going there to gie their livers a shooing.

But, the offer of a ticket had to be declined on this occasion. Like, maist times this season, cost, family and the dread of potential hungoverism have got in the way. I really do miss going but in this modern age you can get yer fix of banter as a virtual world opens up for you. Watching the game in a hoose can be as social as going and it does have benefits.

You wait on the game to begin, doing things around the hoose that isnny going up the A9 on a bus, so you have the crack cocained flavoured Sky Sports News on, yer laptop is on and yer checking the messageboards- probably having conversations wie Tims you huvnae meet or wid want to meet- and you may have the radio on, listening to 'Off The Ba'', which is talking to Alec Rae who is going to the North Pole for some charity thingy. I really hope there is some Timmy Polar Bears in the North Pole.

So, you are not alone in yer ain wee Celtic World.

After watching THAT 90mins against Inverness, I'm glad that I only had to put up wie moaning text messages, that you can ignore, and the post match moan fest that engulfs the messageboards can be switched off unlike if you were stuck on a bus, hangover in the post, listening to others, whose hangovers have not been sent yet, moaning and wailing.

You see, for all the want to be at the game, after 90mins of something that struggles to reach a bearable level you are thankful that yer sitting in yer living room wie the choice of turning it over to watch the darts or the Tyne Wear derby.

Not that I did. It was close and if it hudnae have been Celtic I would have been on the oche quicker than Robbie Keane could travel doon the M6. Scottish Fitba' has an image problem much like The Taliban have in the USA. Games like this will have customers turning off in their droves if Scott Booth/ Craig Burley husnae already made them turn off.

0-0 flattered both teams and I'm looking for Celtic and Inverness to compensate me for the wasted 90mins of my life that I won't get back. Ok, we can point to new manager syndrome for Invernesses increased performance levels, where 0-0 is an improvement on their previous 8 results, and that Celtic played 120mins during the week. The no goals stat wisnny helped wie the M.I.B refusing to award us a stonewall penalty in the 1st period.

Still, all that is no excuse for 9 players being passengers and looking like they would have rather been anywhere else in the world (doontoon Basra?) than playing a game of fitba' in Inverness. Only Aiden McGeady, Marc Crosas and The Holy Goalie are exempt from any accusing fingers.

Wie us being so poor it is easy to dissect. What's worse that being so poor and easy to dissect means that a team that deserves no praise ends up getting praise. Due this an irrational hatrid of all things Richie Foran and Dougie Imrie come to the surface. The joyus discovery that Ian Black is not only a dirty wee shit but a Jambo to boot means that I no longer feel embarrassed aboot shouting "COCK!" at him everytime he got near the ba'.

Terry Butcher. His post-match interview, not viewed in the best of moods, was so punchable that a hedgehog and an arsehole was mentioned and the hope of a horrible relegation is top of my wish list for this man and club. I really want to see the back of them.

At least I can look at my bank balance, my clear heid and that I had time to cook the best Sausage Casserole EVER! as positives of a forgettable Sunday.

Forza