Funniest sight of last week: Eamon Dunphy on Network 2 last Thursday night, trying to find it somewhere in his gnarled old heart to say nice things about John Hartson shortly after Celtic’s emphatic win at Anfield.

Of course, he didn’t quite manage it. While talking over a slow-motion replay of Hartson’s stunning goal, he gave up halfway through his sentence and instead allowed the words “pub player” to pass his rasping lips.

“Outta the way, outta the way, lemme hit it, whoa!!!” he gasped, presumably in an attempt to convey Hartson’s thought processes as the ball was blasted beyond a helpless Jerzy Dudek.

Of course, given the amount of criticism Dunphy has heaped upon Hartson’s beefy shoulders during RTE’s coverage of Celtic this season, it’s equally as likely (albeit, not very) that Hartson was imagining the ball to be Dunphy’s face as he pulled back his right foot, and thinking, “Take that, and don’t you EVER sneer at me again, you bastard.” Just a hypothesis.

And then, there was Bill O’Herlihy, droning on in predictable fashion about Martin O’Neill getting the best out of “limited players”, handing all the credit to the manager and none whatsoever to his team. Even for O’Herlihy, this was rather silly stuff. Does he really know so little about Celtic or their players, even after covering so many of their games this season? Does he nip out for a Chinese meal while their games are on, returning only for the interval and full-time?

Over on BBC1, Alan Hansen was at it as well, making the unchallenged and frankly mad assertion that Emile Heskey is a better player than Hartson. Hello?

One of them scores plenty of goals domestically and in Europe, is one of the best headers of a ball in Europe, never stops trying, and is a pounding pain in the arse to play against. The other is called Emile Heskey.

Ah, enough. Eff them all, as Shane MacGowan might have put it. This has not only been Celtic’s best European campaign for 29 years – it has been a credibility-restoring exercise, a timely rejoinder to those who would rubbish Celtic’s footballing abilities on the basis that they play in a poor league. Funny how you never hear that one being thrown at Ajax or Porto.

In a way, they have a lot to be thankful to FC Basle for. I remember one evening last August, staring with horror at a Ceefax page that read 2-0 to the Swiss outfit in that Champions League qualifier, and spending the entire evening waiting for the screen to flash up a tie-saving away goal that never came.

Had it not been for that defeat, Celtic would not have entered the UEFA Cup; the scalps of Suduva, Blackburn, Celta Vigo, Stuttgart and Liverpool would have gone unclaimed; and the Bhoys would not now be odds-on for their first European final since 1970.

For all Celtic fans of whatever age, there comes a certain point in your life when you realise that, no matter how much the European football landscape changes and mutates over the next few decades, the Bhoys will never lift their second European Cup in your lifetime.

There are several reasons for this. First, the money. In the past two years, O’Neill has made only one genuinely big signing – John Hartson. He’s spent so little money (mostly on reserves like David Fernández and Javier Sánchez Broto) that he’s probably forgotten what colour his wallet is. Celtic’s obligation to be fiscally prudent even in a depressed transfer market, coupled with the understandable reluctance of foreign players to come and live in a rain-lashed northern town like Glasgow, means that they’ll never be able to compete with even the Feyenoords and Parmas in monetary terms.

The second drawback is a direct consequence of the first: though their first-choice XI can give anyone a good hard game, Celtic have a very thin squad. It doesn’t take too many injuries or suspensions before O’Neill has to give a game to the likes of Momo Sylla, a hot-and-cold player who blew extremely hot at Anfield. They recently had to use Steve Guppy, who’s never been good enough, and Jamie Smith, who almost certainly never will be, as wingers.

So the UEFA Cup it is, then. In fact, Foul Play has been wrestling for some time with the question of whether he would prefer to see Paul Lambert lifting the SPL trophy or the UEFA Cup in May. Would it be “acceptable” to sacrifice the league to the Huns for one year only, as long as Europe’s second tier was conquered?

After careful consideration, I have gone for the European prize, if for no other reason that they might not get this chance again for a long, long time. In fact, such has been the character, guts and talent displayed by the team over the past month that I shall tip them to win both competitions. There.

And when Celtic knock seven bells of shite out of Boavista in the semi-final, we will smile indulgently as Bill O’Herlihy and the boys gently patronise them one more time with feeling. And we will raise a glass to FC Basle.