TV View: They say any relationship can be healed if both parties are prepared to work at it and let bygones be bygones. We have, though, a strong hunch that Gilesie and Dudu are going to test this theory.

We can't actually claim that they - John Giles and the Israeli goalkeeper Dudu Aouate - were mates at all before Saturday. But, if they were, for Gilesie at least, it's over.

"Is he holding his mouth again, that goalkeeper? God. All. Mighty. Why doesn't he just book him? Or send him off? One or the other? For goodness sake. Everybody knows he's acting and doing all sorts of things (heavy sigh)."

So, the relationship deteriorated as the evening wore on at Lansdowne Road.

It reached irretrievable breakdown when Gilesie didn't quite express revulsion, outrage and fury despite assuming Andy O'Brien must have hit Dudu to have earned a red card.

"Yeah, I think he did something all right," he said to Darragh Moloney, "but the keeper would drive you mad, wouldn't he?"

See? Before this Gilesie had never been completely convinced about O'Brien as a player, but, after believing he had decked Dudu, Gilesie promoted the Newcastle man above Gerson and Jairzinho and just behind Tostao and Pele in his all-time top-five list of favourite footballers.

But then the replay showed O'Brien had apparently smashed Dudu's nose to smithereens when he shoved him in the right arm.

Anatomy was never our strong point in school, but this was a brand new one on us.

Incidentally, BBC2's Newsnight did a piece on the history of women's football on Friday, interviewing June Gregson, a member of the famous Dick Kerr Ladies team from the 1940s.

"Perhaps I shouldn't be saying this," she said, "but men's teams, half of them these days, dance around like a lot of fairies - we played proper football."

D'you know, it could have been Gilesie talking.

Anyway, Dudu just darkened Gilesie's already gloomy mood. It wasn't that Giles was unhappy to see Gary Doherty emerge from the bench in the 64th minute, as a sub for Andy Reid, it was just that he was incredulous.

"Can't believe that. CAN'T BELIEVE THAT. Reid's one of our best players, one of the few getting on the ball and passing it. Looks like it's going to be a hoof up the middle to Doherty."

Not long after: "It's hit and hope, might do it, might not do it," he sighed, as the service to Doherty played havoc with Dublin Airport's air-traffic control, a small, round, white object repeatedly showing up on their radar.

Back in the studio Eamon Dunphy appeared to be hinting that Doherty lacked finesse when he spoke of Kerr's decision to bring him on and take Reid off.

"It's a question of whether you want to break the door down with a truck or open it with a key - we got the sledgehammer out too early, in my opinion."

There was, though, a strangely mellow mood in the studio, considering the outbreak of Istanbulitis the panellists had just witnessed on the pitch. Usually it's Bill O'Herlihy trying to extinguish the flames of post-match fury; this time he was furiously trying to ignite a heated debate, but to no avail.

"Let's call a spade a spade: that is a DISASTER," he said.

"It is a serious setback to our hopes of automatic qualification, yeah," said Dunphy.

Bill slumped. Already Dunphy and Liam Brady had been largely in agreement about the game. That was a big-enough blow. Now Dunphy was being sort of measured and serene, the last thing Bill needs. The least he'd hoped for was a pen chucked across the studio.

On to Croke Park. An affair between doting neighbours Meath and Dublin that began quite tamely. So tame the referee didn't have to produce a yellow card until the 16th second.

After that? It became moderately competitive. Dudu was lucky he didn't grow up in Seneschalstown - he could have been in midfield yesterday. Although in fairness to Seán Boylan, he tends to opt for midfielders who can actually field a ball.

It's at this point we must apologise to Marty Morrissey. When, just before the game, he said, while we weren't looking, "We welcome to Croke Park Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who's wearing a Dublin jersey," we assumed he'd been on the magic mushrooms.

It was a surreal thought. But when we looked up there was Archbishop Desmond Tutu in Croke Park in a Dublin jersey, "Arnotts" emblazoned across his chest.

Now, we humbly concluded, we've seen it all.