The facts and figures contained in the just published accounts of the Premier League for the 2011/12 season will do little to soften the view that the game is awash with silly money, not least the revelation that in recording total losses of €422 million, the 20 clubs are, to quote one benign interpretation, “generally becoming better run financially” — a qualified thumbs-up based on the fact the figure was down from €566 million at the end of the previous season.

You know the Premier League? The greatest league in the world? Yeah, that one. Bit boring, isn’t it?

We chroniclers of the round ball game can surely be forgiven just a touch of schadenfreude as we watch our oval ball counterparts a-swingin’ their picks and a-hollerin’ those ol’ managerial succession blues.

It was hard to keep sight of the green shoots of a footballing spring at the Aviva last Tuesday as thick snow began to swirl into the press box, threatening to short-circuit the old laptoperooney. And harder still, nigh on impossible in fact, when they were unceremoniously trampled underfoot at the death.

Now we’re back in balmy Ireland it can be revealed: the real winners in Stockholm last night were your bestest friends, the meeja.

On a visit to Brazil this week Peter Robinson and Martin McGuinness jointly opened a George Best exhibition in Sao Paolo.

It seems to be a case of Hibernian before Hibernia for Pat Fenlon.

Manchester United 1 Real Madrid 2 — further proof that it’s true what they say about great players: you can keep them quiet for nearly all 90 minutes but, inevitably, they’ll end up having the last word.

For the faithful, the dawning of the first day of the new Airtricity League season brings with it a familiar quickening of the pulse and the heady sensation that anything is possible.

To the list of ailments which we can only presume routinely assail whoever happens to be managing Chelsea at any given time, must now be added amnesia.