Fergie’s hairdryer is back on full power, but we haven’t been blown out of the reckoning just yet

THERE was an amusing tale in the London Daily Mail last week about warnings being issued not to wear any clothing with ‘AIG’ on it, lest it attract unwanted violent attention.

The story was about the USA, of course, but on Saturday afternoon its writ ran in London SW1 too, if one imagines a fuming Fergie barging into the dressing room at half time.

One of the United staff, with classic British understatement, murmured that there had “been discussions” at the break. He was later heard describing World War II as “a bit of a scuffle”. And the Fergie Fury clearly worked, as — hold on to your hats for a line you won’t see here again — Mickey Phelan got it spot on afterwards: “I thought we performed heroically in the second half.” Me too, Michael; 75 minutes with ten men and a line-up hobbled from the off by an over-tinkering management, and yet for much of the often-thrilling second half I wouldn’t have put a penny on Fulham, even at tens.

Clearly it goes against my normal character to argue thus but it’s going to take more evidence than Saturday’s anomalous circumstances to make me pen the “United’s Devon Loch” intro. Furthermore, way too much was made of the supposedly ‘sudden’ loss of self-control, as allegedly exhibited by Roo ‘n’ Ron. Eh?

Have these pundits been watching United this season? Ronaldo performs that spoilt brat routine every few weeks, and Roo has been one snarl from the kennel on repeated occasions. Indeed, the most incredible factoid to emerge from the weekend was that Rooney had never been sent off for United in the league before. Even as I type that, I’m still almost certain it can’t be true. If we fail to beat Villa as 11 v 11, then I’ll concede the incriminating evidence has indeed mounted. But spare us until then: remember that we have to fail to win twice for Liverpool to even have a sniff.

Villa, of course, have just been provided with all the motivation they need after that Anfield spanking, which I will willingly if unhappily concede constituted the fitting flourish to one of the best ten-day spells I’ve ever seen Liverpool produce. And I was there in the painful late 70s days, so that’s stiff competition.

“Be careful what you wish for, hey?” muttered a colleague with my previously-expressed desire for a proper Red v Red race in mind. Well, naturally, what I wish for is us to rob it from the Scousers, preferably on the final day, thus inspiring instant weepy funerals for ‘The Lost 19th’ and black-arm banded minute silences all summer long. But even if we blow it, let us recall what Fergie implicitly let slip last week — that he could live with that, as long as we win the Champions League. Amen to that indeed. Which does slightly beg the question of why he has decided not to switch the Villa game to a Saturday, to give an extra day to prepare for Porto. A tough judgement call, perhaps — Fergie has let it be known he feels he can’t throw in internationals just a day after they return from duty.

But it has ‘returning ghost’ written all over it, doesn’t it? Not least given his years of complaints about not getting any Euro-prep scope from the ABU fixture machine. And if you thought going out to old Jose’s Porto was bad, that’d be as nought compared to an exit to them in ‘09. The draw could not have been easier, nor the route to final more negotiable. And lurking darkly on the horizon? A possible United v Liverpool final in Rome. Aka Stab City. Cheers for that, Uefa suits, and for your barefaced lies on the subject last October.

* Richard Kurt, whose classic ‘Red Army Years’ is only available via [e-mail]