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No 11: Anthony Daly

MONDAY: I don't know whether to, d'ya know like, kick them where the sun don't shine or post them all thank-you cards, signed with deepest gratitude by 'Dalo, manager of the No Hoper Dubs'. No one's giving us a prayer next Sunday - bookies, pundits, probably the Cats for that matter. Just hope Tipp are thinking the same cocksure way.

TUESDAY: Torture, pure torture! Now Treacy's gone and done his hammer again. Bad enough having the pundits queuing up against us, but now I'm starting to wonder has Himself Above placed half a million large ones on Tipp? Not that he's going to make much at those ridiculous 1/16 odds. What am I saying? Sure He'll make diddly-squat anyway!

WEDNESDAY: Even if Himself Above is conspiring against us, we can't just keel over and take it. We didn't do it in Clare when the whole world was agin' us, so why Dublin? So, d'ya know, I've been thinking ... if poor Conal can do his cruciate coming off a motorbike, who's to say another of my warriors won't banjacks his knee falling out of the bath? Only one thing for it: ban all showers for the rest of the week. Sure, the Peggy Dell might even leave goal-hungry Lar in need of smelling salts!

THURSDAY: It's half-seven in the evening and still not a single phone call or text, revealing some fresh catastrophe. My cunning plan is working!

FRIDAY: Time is ticking, so I've just drawn up a quick memo to self: (1) Remind players to go to the feckin' ball. (2) Ring Davy and ask him for his Munster final game-plan, then do the direct opposite. (3) Remind Ryan O'Dwyer that he's playing for Dublin on Sunday, so no hat-tricks past Gary Maguire please. (4) Remind Ryan to pack plenty of bandages in his kitbag.

SATURDAY: This waiting is pure torture! Only one thing for it: a quick trip to the bookies to place a nice wedge on my boys at 9/1. Roll on riches! We'll be in a jocker on Monday morning! Roll on September!