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G'day mates.

The Australians have a wonderful phrase in their vocabulary: 'No dramas.' It means exactly what it says on the tin:  No worries, no hassles.

So why then, dear reader, do I feel as if I've had nothing but drama on this trip to Oz?

If you have been a regular peruser of the diary entries, then no doubt you will have chuckled out loud at 'Boardingpassgate" in Seoul and creased your sides laughing at "Haggisgate/Luggagegate" in Sydney. Indeed it's been one big drama for yer old da here.

Even Ange Postecoglou's Celtic have had fewer issues than yours truly on this trip, and the Hoops have failed to win a single game on the other side of the world. 

The heightened daily drama of what this analogue eejit trapped in a digital world might post up on TikTok has garnered something of a cult following. I'm a cult, or words to that effect, or maybe the 50-year-old ears need to be syringed.

In Australia, they still serve pints in old-fashioned dimpled glasses. It was the kind of tumbler you saw in old episodes of Coronation Street. You know, the ones that Albert Tatlock, who was glued to the stool in the Rovers Return, used to drink out of.

Growing up, my old man used to have me in stitches when he said that his former occupation was Albert Tatlock's stuntman. I still chuckle in my head whenever I say those words, dear reader. It is just absurdly and outrageously funny.

Speaking of Alberts, I love writing about the Bhoys. That is my happy place, so to speak and so before I flew out to Oz, I decided that I would track down the head of the Sydney Celtic Supporters' Club - Albert Murray.

Now he's a top bloke. El Presidente and all that. He knows a lot of people and all of them are Hoops daft, with an emphasis on daft.

The Sydney City CSC is located in Scruffy Murphy's pub just off George Street, where I was staying and so it was manna from heaven really. I duly agreed to meet the man in charge and we'd do a bit on the Sydney City CSC, and Robert would be your father's mother. No dramas.

Well, let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, trying to conduct a serious professional interview with a well-known president of a famous supporters club outside on the stools of the very pub where their HQ is based was fraught with problems.

Celtic Way:

 I clicked record on the dictaphone and what followed was comedy gold which could have been aired on the Dave Channel. Albert would speak for about three seconds before being interrupted by some passer-by or member of the club.

One Hoops supporter who, let's just say, was enjoying the fact that the Celtic were in town a bit too much decided after seeing the dictaphone to pull up a chair and start answering the questions on the President's behalf.

 As quick as a flash, I said to him I'm going call this diary entry 'The Imbiber Meets The Scriber!' Before I knew it then had an interview that sounded like hundreds of Norman Collier soundbites on steroids. I had to wade through more files than Mulder and Scully. 

The truth wasn't so much out there as in there somewhere, in my tape recorder, that is. No dramas. You're having a laugh, aren't you? Can I catch a break here or not? 

I felt like Al Pacino in the Godfather III - "just when I thought I was out, the drama pulls me back in."

Then there's the jet lag. I'd never experienced it before. Suffice as to say that on Saturday night in downtown Sydney, yours truly crashed out at 10:30 pm at night and woke up at 3 am.

However, as I turned my head sideward, I heard a rustling of papers as a 1.25-litre bottle of coke rolled into my face. The noise came from three empty packets in this order: Nobby's Bacon Flavoured Bites, Pascall Marshmallows The Big Softie! Pink & White, and Haribo Gummy bears. Confession time. I love my sweeties. Now you see them, now you don't!

Empty? Maybe, just maybe, in Australia, of all places, I had just invented a new Olympic sport called sleep-eating! I don't recall polishing off any of them, or all three, to be honest. So that in itself was causing me some major concern. 

The sugar rush probably explains why I headed down to Sydney Opera House at 7:30 am to record a TikTok clip under the headline Antonio Pavarotti live as I started singing about Celtic manager Ange Postecoglou to the tune of America's: Horse With No Name, outside the world-famous venue.

@thecelticway__ Antonio Pavarotti live from Sydney Opera House!!! #celtic #scotlandtiktok #sydneysupercup #Australia #angepostecoglou ♬ original sound - thecelticway__

No dramas? I've had enough to last me a lifetime in Australia. Dare I say it, I could pen an opera, soap opera, tragedy, comedy, musical, you name it, on all the dramas I've had Down Under so far.

Where would I stage such a masterpiece? Whisper it quietly, but rumour has it the locals have christened the Sydney Opera House 'The Rich Man's Armadillo'.

This piece is an extract from today’s Celtic Digest newsletter, which is emailed out every weekday evening with a round-up of the day's top stories and exclusive analysis from The Celtic Way team. 

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