Yes, I, The Red Devil, have a confession to make… and here it is…

I didn’t watch the match last night.

Yes, the biggest match of the season so far, a Carling Cup semi-final against Manchester City and I missed it.

A Christmas present from my better half was tickets to see Les Miserables at the Palace Theatre here in Manchester and, as the gods of all things designed to piss a person off decided to deign, the dates clashed.

As it happens, Les Miserables was marvellous and I would wholeheartedly recommend anyone who has yet to see it (or indeed step foot into a theatre) go and see it for themselves.

Anyway, I had recorded the match on the Sky+ and instructed everyone I knew not to tell me the score as I would watch it when I got home.

As we were leaving the theatre, a few people had obviously been texted the score and I had to negotiate the departing crowds with my fingers in my ears so as not to hear it. I managed this successfully.

On the way to the bus-stop (yes, I always get a bus into town, it is far too much agro to drive and taxis are driven by modern-day Dick Turpins) I passed several City supporters (easily identifiable by their Mancini scarves) and I was looking into their faces for some clue. Strangely, I did not see enormous happiness in any of them. One I saw was smiling wryly to a friend. What does this mean? Did we win? Did it end in a draw?

As we arrived at the bus-stop, there was a nutter (there’s always one) who was talking very loudly about nothing in particular and fortunately, he walked away and out of sight.

We got onto the bus and as we rounded a corner to the first stop, who should get on but aforementioned nutter.

He was on the phone to his mum and he had evidently been out with his friend Emma that evening.

“I was with Emmoh… I’m telling the truth muvvoh, I was out with Emmoh… listen to me muvvoh”

This conversation was taking place on his mobile phone but he was speaking so loudly that he probably could have saved his credit and just shouted out of the window.

Anyway, so far I had avoided the score and was happy. There was a City fan sat in the seat in front of me and I got nervous everytime he put his mobile phone to his ear but he never spoke to anyone, or if he did, he was mercifully quiet.

As we were about half a mile away from home, the nutter stopped beside me and held out his hand. I looked at him, he was smiling at me. I shook his hand. He said, “Well done tonight, but we’ll beat you at Old Trafford. It was a flukey goal though.”

I couldn’t believe it. Of all the people on the bus the nutter could have chosen to speak to (bear in mind I was dressed in my civvies and there was an obvious City fan sat on the seat in front of me) he chose me.

And now I was confused.

Was he a City fan or a United fan? Surely a City fan couldn’t be going to Old Trafford with such confidence?

To confuse the issue further, when I got home my mobile phone was bleeping. I had received a text from a friend which read “Happy Days!”

So, that sealed it. We had won the game 1-0. It wasn’t a flukey goal but it was a bit scrappy.

I sat down to watch the game and saw us go 1-0 ahead but I couldn’t believe at that stage that it ended 1-0.

We actually lost 2-1, of course but all the way through watching it I was expecting a goal from United.

Watching a match live when you have no clue as to what happens is one thing but try watching a game when you have been given “clues” from various weird sources! It’s even worse!

I checked my phone again to read the “Happy Days” message and noticed that it was timed at 20:21… just a few minutes after Giggs had scored, I missed that the first time I had read it and assumed he had texted me at the end of the match!

All in all, a good night to have gone to watch Les Miserables.