Well, that's that over for another six months. Transfer deadline day, the day of the year that most closely resembles an honest day's toil for freelance football journalists, is behind us again, and we have a shiny new winger to show for it.
Here's a brief roundup of everything important that happened now we're in the piercing, hungover light of the day after:
By reading back through our live thread of the days events, and the thrilling to-and-fro as it became totally obvious we'd be signing the one player we were interested very early on in the day and we waited for him to hold up a scarf and sit in front of the press and say "ehhh, naw, sorry, what was that?" when asked about his da.
For all the talk of EBTs and side-letters, maybe we should look at more common forms of cheating. Craig Levein has quite clearly added another manager and used him to buy his own player here, and nothing has been said. I just checked, and Henan Jianye's manager was appointed an hour before the deal took place and is called First Name Last Name. (It actually took me a while to find the name of the club there, since everybody's just reporting it as "a £1.5m bid from China", as though the state itself has invested in him to boost their slowing economy. I know it says Communist Party, but I'm fairly certain it's a private enterprise. Those days are gone now, sadly. Thanks for nothing, Deng Xiaoping!
By weirdly deciding to go against contract law and refuse to allow Greg Tansey join the other jobbers Aberdeen signed, thus causing much bad blood and consternation in Scottish Fitba, the first time this is believed to have happened and not involved us since 1893.
And loan out Nadir Ciftci. Well done to all involved. Inclusivity! The people's club! A club for all!
This move made GTBFO feel a big pang of sadness and longing for the best local it's ever had, Le Brio in Paris (go if you're ever there, mention our name, and you might get a free demi-pression and some men come from the flat above asking if you've seen us and have our current address - please don't give it to them) simply to explain in excruciating detail to the Marseille-supporting hotel porter who gets drunk in there every night just how shite Steven Fletcher is. It's not fair that footballers can have a downturn in their career and end up going from Sunderland to Marseille. GTBFO has enjoyed a similar career trajectory recently and it took us from Paris to Northamptonshire.
Chatting up lassies isn't one of GTBFO's favourite pastimes , but as something of a neutral monitor on these matters, it seems to us that PUA's aren't really needed here. A series of stereotypes and misconceptions have allowed Scottish men to luck themselves into a position of being somehow thought of as generally sexy to begin with, and we couldn't advise trying this sort of shite on Scottish women even if it weren't clearly morally reprehensible and you had any sort of attachment to your own teeth.
The target market for these talks appears to be wee guys, and our own wee guys cannot be said to be lacking much in self-esteem or confidence, and just don't seem the sort to sit patiently and be told to wear a feather boa or whatever and start mumbling moral dilemmas at random lassies anyway. Can you imagine trying to get away with that pish in the Cathouse? GTBFO has also noticed the alarmingly high proportion of female exchange students who seem to end up staying and marrying a local, so the heterosexual men of this land must be doing something right to overcome the pain of subjecting yourself to Scottish weather for the rest of your days. Twenty years from now the result of our free-education-for-all-unless-you're-English policy is going to be like a less dark version of those northern isles where the men and women all have totally different genes.