We’re fucked. We are on the path of being added to the list of all those sorry stories of teams who’ve punched well above their weight financially. Leeds United, Lazio, Roma and now add Shelbourne F.C. to that list. It’s as clear as mud. It’s as much of a certainty as the fact that the ghost of Mother Teresa robbed the Northern Bank (It was her, right?).

Just think. Los galacticos. Ronaldo. Figo. Zidane. O’Neill. Hawkins. Baker. Much of a muchness really. It’s like SF and IRA. All the same really. When we get knocked out of Europe in the first preliminary round this July (yes, we are big time) by Johnny Kazakstan FC and Shero bangs in a 911 yarder for CYM Terenure in the cup to knock us out, we’ll be fucked.

Oh, and as Bray romp home with the title after Wesley Charles works his magic, who’ll be laughing then, hey?

The fact is, in ten years time, we will be happy with reaching the Leinster Senior Cup quarter-finals. Because when we financially self-destruct, move out of Tolka and wait for our ‘Ollie Bowl’ in some kip in Meath or Louth or wherever it is, we’ll be up shit creek without….toilet paper. Now there’s a disaster. Like putting your hand in the box (stop it, Mrs. Scully isn’t that sort of lady!), to discover there’s no teabags left. Absolute shambles.

We’ll be playing at Le Stade de la AUL in the LSL Major 1A. Berties tiger will have died of malnutrition and recession will bite. Bang! We’ll walk in our Gandhi’s sandles (TM Wiggy) through the abandoned concrete jungles, to the picturesque paradise that is Clonshaugh. We will cheer on our heroes, such as Retardo Baker who we sign from Lourdes Celtic, son of Richie, but obviously not as good as the wing wizard. A man and his Celtic tiger will be there (obviously a malnourished tiger). But just think of the away trips. St Mochtas. Beggsboro. Home Farm. The mouth-watering possibilities in the cup. Cherry Orchard. Belgrove or even Wayside Celtic if we’re lucky. The future is bright. The future is black. Bring it on…