‘Walshy. Walshy! What’s going on, lad? You’ve only got one job and quite frankly you’ve  completely and utterly Clifford Finched it.’

Transfer deadline day came and went – quite a while ago now, we know – and Everton were just Keith Chegwin and Wolf from Gladiators away from a complete pantomime. Oddly, if they had said beforehand that they are reasonably happy with the business they’ve done, especially keeping Romelu Lukaku and strengthening the midfield, everyone would have been more or less content with that. By the same token, if they had bought Yannick Bolasie at the last minute, that would have probably seemed a bit more exciting than having the deal done ages ago and him actually playing in a couple of games.

All about perception, innit bruv.

As it was, the impression everyone got on the outside, looking in, was that the Blues were all over the place, like a wild man’s shite. So much for the new, sleek, streamlined ‘Moshiri Method’ then, as once again Portugal celebrated National Mug Off The Gullible Scousers Day when Yacine Brahimi categorically didn’t make a £30 million move from Porto to Merseyside.

‘It’s ringing! It’s ringing! It’s an 0151 number! Is it still the ginger tit with the cardigan? Really? Manchester United? Fuck. Really? How did he manage that? Ok, ok, shush, shush. Don’t make me laugh. Stop it, don’t. I think I’m going to do it in a voice this time. Ready. Hellooooo, this is Porto Football Club. How can I help you today.’

So Brahimi was one wide-player who never signed. Which was a shame, just because we wanted to sing his name to the tune of a Gary Wright classic. Another one who never made the move, Moussa Sissoko, would have been the last piece in the jigsaw of another belter of a chant as well, to the tune of Kokomo by the Beach Boys.

‘Jagielka, Lukaku, ooh I wanna take you… Arouna and Gana…’

Clearly Jagielka doesn’t really fit that great there but by including him it just makes everyone feel a bit more comfortable that the whole thread isn’t faintly racist. You’re welcome.

The whole Sissoko thing is crackers. For a start, Newcastle supporters seem to uniformly believe that the new Tottenham signing is absolutely fucking last: limited in terms of ability and utterly bereft of a heart. No doubt we will be watching his career at White Hart Lane with interest to see if we did indeed dodge a massive shithouse-shaped bullet when he apparently stopped taking Everton’s calls on deadline day.

It’s since emerged that at the death the Blues’ officials were reduced to scrolling frantically down Robert Elstone’s iPhone contacts, picking up Enner Valencia on loan from West Ham, and then got as far as the Ys when the gong finally went.

‘Yarmolenko, let’s try him. Ooh, Eddie Youds, remember him. Not spoken to him for ages….ah, bollocks, is that it? Can anyone remember the funny rules that mysteriously let you sign fellas even when the deadline’s gone? No? No one? Walshy, no? For fuck’s sake lad? Really? Shite this you know.’

So that was deadline day. Almost. The fallout continued with that weird statement that may or may not have been made by Moshiri to Jim White after two bottles of Blossom Hill in front of X Factor.

Something about not actually wanting to sign these wide players because at the end of the day we don’t want to stand in the way of a defensive midfielder who has been reduced to playing wing-back or sitting on the bench – or worse, talking about moving to Crystal Palace.

Because we’re family.