Jim White's head fails to explode. It eats football instead.

I guess I was asking for too much to see a Scanners type end to proceedings on Deadline Day. What we did witness instead was something far more horrific. Sky cameras covering Jim White's arrival to the Sky Sports News studios. Yes. Because from 8pm onwards we are blessed with a presenter that somehow manages to define the days chaotic scramble for signings purely based on the fact that there's a fluffer under the desk squeezing his balls tight for over three hours straight.

With each passing year it seems like the coverage of Deadline Day (in HD) takes on a Chris Morris/Alan Partridge vibe. It's not satirical, it's professionalism, yet it's practically a spoof when you have a grown man in a studio shouting during a link-up to another grown man standing outside a football club as they both scream about absolutely nothing.

When something does happen, we then have to endure buckets of ugly as we come to the realisation that only the facially disturbed frequent the Sky Cameras as they huddle around the lucky reporter waiting for the sighting of say, Peter Crouch. In Stoke, it was akin to their creator arriving from the heavens to bless them by virtue of autograph. Outside the Emirates some fans showed off their tattoos stating 'Prem winners 2012'. It's a minefield of mong wherever you dared to look.

One massively disappointing aspect of it all was the fact that the protracted saga of Modric to Chelsea lead by chief brokers (Sky Sports) failed to materialise No yellow-ticker after a summer where it constantly rained with Luka soundbites. It all ended with one from Harry Redknapp (who spent most of the day driving in and out of the Spurs Lodge to be interviewed via his car window with mic in face...or was it the same interview played over and over again? I get confused)...where was I? Oh yes, the soundbite that ended it all was from 'arry stating 'one million percent' in reply to Modric remaining at the club.

All in all, much ado about nothing. But we all know in this wonderful game of ours that nothing is always worth its weight in gold as something. As witnessed by Twitter for most of the evening. No matter the pointing and the shrugs of embarrassment, we all still somehow manage to get sucked in. Every single time.

So, I leave you with this. Ironically not via Sky but via The London Evening Standard. Remember, it's September 2nd today. The window has been closed for a day.

I know what you're thinking having clicked on that link. Jesus wept, right? And if Jesus was a football fan, he'd be left on the shelf. 

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From the world famous secret studio of The Fighting Cock podcast team, it's episode six. Discussed in part one: Twitter re-tweet mission update. Man City debacle autopsy. Livermore > Modric. The truth behind Luka's performance against City. Formation headaches. Centre-back headaches. Positivity and negativity. Harry Redknapp is dissected (it gets ugly) along with our transfer dealings (pre-deadline day) and Neil the Cabbie is back with a brand new rant. In part two we laugh at the scum (lol) and whether we should in fact be laughing at them. We laugh at them anyway. We've got emails. Also Daniel Levy. Do we love him? Or do we not? Do you love him? A twist on the Tottenham Whisper. And we end with a super-quick game of Killer.

Love the shirt.

Jim White's head set to explode. Don't forget to tune in.

Another deadline transfer day. Another opportunity for us all to witness the explosion of Jim White's head on Sky Sports News. We live in hope, however Jim's head appears to be explosion-proof. Unless it explodes off camera after the deadline closes shut. Perhaps Sky have cloned him or in fact he might be an android, which might explain the over the top euphoric emotions when explaining to viewers that someone, possibly of Earth origin, has been seen walking in and around the Chigwell area. Does Jim dream of Harry in a Range Rover?

Still, those of us with the privilege will tune into SSN regardless of the disdain that is sometimes shown towards their passion for yellow-ticking the most mundane content (low-key Prem player is injured for four weeks...let's stick 'breaking news' on the top left-hand corner of the screen and proceed to bang on about it for three hours). Don't forget the massive wide-screen touch-screen that not only displays all  the current ITK nonsense doing the rounds but can also display the Surf Report, if 1 foot waves on the coasts of England and Wales is your thang.

Just pretend it's satirical. It turns instantly to genius.

However, today, I'll accept in terms of pure entertainment...they capture the scatter-gun madness of the count-down brilliantly. Reporters outside all the expected-to-be-busy clubs/training facilities, dramatic high voices (go Jim go!), special guest commentators in the studio to give their invaluable predictions and Harry Redknapp in a helicopter (because it's quicker to collect the pizza than it is to wait for the bloke on the delivery moped).

It's epic. It's ridiculous. It's brinkmanship. It's panic. And that's without Sky Sports. With it, parts of your brain might haemorrhage with the overload of anticipation. Mostly always much ado about nothing because we know that sometimes the anticipation is far greater than the pleasure. I mean come on, Sky actually call it 'Deadline Day' like its box office movie. It's in HD and sh*ts gonna happen, Yippee-ki-yay Daniel Levy! Everything is Hollywood baby.

Cue frenzied vocals and snazzy on-screen graphics...

"...right now let's go to Loftus Road, shall we, breaking news, QPR, let's get the latest...Rachel Brookes..."

"Right, well, I can confirm QPR are interested in Craig Bellamy..."

Hmm...Okay then. That's an actual direct quote from this morning.

Talking of breaking news, Harry has already been at it first thing, arriving at The Lodge, leaning out of the window, mic in face. Confirming Modric is not going (1,000,000%) and that Crouchie might be the one to shift out because he's the one in demand. Cahill also on the radar. Hot. Off. Press.

The bad news is, I'm tragically not going to witness the hopeful explosion of Jim White's head this evening. In fact, from around 5pm till gone 10pm I'm going to have to rely on my 3G connection and Twitter. Travelling up to Manchester (to kidknap Adam Johnson). No guarantee that I'll see anything when checking into the hotel either due to commitments. Might well be offline for most of Thursday also unless I can sneak in some interweb time on the sly. I'm sure Twitter will rescue me. Although judging by the way journalists and fans (and Tom Huddlestone and Danny Rose) are currently sharing/discussing protracted transfers, its an even bigger mess of hype than Sky Sports News.

I guess, it's not that important what happens leading up to it, in the build up because it's what happens right at the end that matters most. Hold on, why am I talking about sex?

So what of the transfers?

I guess brinkmanship is the reason so many clubs wait until the final day. The selling club hoping for that extra million or two from the panicking buying club and the buying club hoping the selling club panic and sell on the cheap. We can only guess that the reason we've waited until the last minute to sign Scott Parker is because we've spent the best part of a month and a half attempting to sign Diarra. Hardly decisive, are we? Seems every player we lust after requires a minimum 6 weeks of flirting before we know whether we're going to capture their signature or not. If we were talking about sex, Tottenham would last all night making gentle love, but never reaching a climax. Here's hoping Daniel Levy is good with his hands.

When using the fax machine. I'm talking football again.

Parker, Cahill + one other player (another forward or perhaps one that can double up and play right-wing/midfield, you know, like that Ruiz fella who has signed for Fulham) would be a good solid final day. When our injured warriors are back, we'll have a beastly team. The question at that point will be whether Harry works out a consistent cohesive formation for them to fit into. Let's not forget, we've signed Adebayor. He'll make a monumental difference up front.

Parker, bless him, handing in a transfer request just for show to appease the Green Street faithful (Big Sam preferring Nolan, porn barons not wanting too lose too much face). He'll fix one issue (engine in midfield, leadership). Although he has plenty to prove once he wears the Lilywhite. Still worry that he excels in average teams and struggles in decent ones...on hold up, he'll be perfect for us then! lolololol and so on.

Other targets? Diarra is still being linked. Bellamy (he's being linked to everyone). Leandro Damião da Silva dos Santos? Not a chance in this window. Yossi Benayoun? Joe Cole? I hope not. Gignac
is being linked to Fulham. Cheeky bid? And Mario Ballotelli's profile has been removed from Man City's official player profile page, so nailed on medical at The Lodge due in 3...2...1...

Everyone wants a van der Vaart Part II last second special from the chairman. You know, just without the excess weight and injury plights.

As for players out? Other than Crouch, Pav is whoring himself again. Jenas to QPR is much touted but would be shocked to see it happen. Bentley won't move on as nobody will pay the £30M Levy wants for him. Hutton, you'd hope someone would take the plunge. As for Gomes, do not believe we'd be stupid enough to loan him out. Bassong might form part of a swap deal for Cahill (do swap deals still happen?). Anyone want to save Niko from central midfield? One thing looks certain at the time of writing, dos Santos looks to be anchored to us once again.

Hold onto ya hats then.

It's a massive day for Harry Redknapp and Daniel Levy. Today will define just how good of a squad Tottenham Hotspur will have in Football Manager 2012.

COYS.

Love the shirt.

Join me on Twitter @Spooky23

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The Fighting Cock is a brand new THFC podcast. You can stream it or download it here on DML (make sure you have a Quicktime plug-in installed).

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Flav, tehTrunk, Spooky, Ricky, Chicago Dan.

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