The fighting went on for, oooh, 20 minutes before gardai finally separated the League of Ireland Fans (LOIF) from the Irish Followers of English Clubs (IFEC) in the public gallery.
The judge, worried for the safety of the Carlow Branch of the Spurs' Supporters Association (Seamus) seated in the middle of the Cork City section, insisted on segregation, so the gardai erected a large, barbed-wire fence down the middle of the gallery, dividing the LOIF from the IFEC. Order was, at last, restored.
But, before allowing the prosecution's questioning of the defendant to continue, the judge asked for the particularly rowdy Bray Wanderers and Everton fans to be ejected from the court. They weren't too happy about it, but he really had no option once they started chanting "Who's the b*****d in the wig?"
The case continued.
Prosecutor: I'll come straight to the point. Do you or do you not deny that you are an Irish follower of an English football club?
Defendant: I certainly am sir.
LOIF: Hang the ****er, hang the ****er!
Judge: SILENCE PLEASE! Any more outbursts from the gallery and I'll sentence you to a month locked in a cell with Big Ron Atkinson.
Prosecutor: And you do realise the gravity of the charge against you - footballing treason?
Defendant: I do sir, but there are extenuating circumstances which, I feel, you should take into account before mounting your high horse.
Prosecutor: And what might these extenuating circumstances be?
Defendant: Well, I and thousands like me started supporting my team when I was seven and, to be honest, nationality didn't mean a whole lot to me then. I mean, at seven, Dundalk and Derby, Limerick and Liverpool, Sligo and Sunderland and Galway and Grimsby were all just football teams, not places. Geography isn't really an issue when you're not long past the stickle-brick phase of your life.
And, at seven, a football team is simply 11 lads in red or blue or white shirts, thrilling you one week, leaving you in despair the next. You don't think about where they come from and you care less.
Prosecutor: But surely you should have seen the error of your traitorous ways once you realised you were supporting . . . spit . . . an English club?
Defendant: Ah yes, but by then it was too late, you can't wean yourself off that easily. You're hooked. Your whole sad life revolves around them. You'd kill your granny for a win on Saturday. Surely even the LOIF understand that you don't just wake up one morning and decide, "I won't support that shower any more, I'll move on to blankety blank". If that was the case, d'you think Dundalk would still have supporters after the season they've had?
Dundalk supporters: (Mmm, fair point).
Defendant: So, whether your team happens to be from Delhi, Dublin or Darwin, it's all fairly incidental at that age. You don't really care, you just support them because you love them. Why you attached yourself to them in the first place is another issue. Usually all it required was falling in love with a particular player you saw on telly. Arsenal fans wanted to have babies with Charlie George, Leeds fans went weak-kneed when they saw Billy Bremner tackle from behind and Liverpool fans believed Kenny Dalglish was the son of God.
Judge: Was he?
Defendant: Na. He was his nephew. Jimmy Greenhoff was God's lad.
Prosecutor: So - and correct me if I'm wrong - you show no remorse for supporting an English team?
Defendant: Absolutely none. I mean, I wish I supported my local club. Apart from it being a lot less expensive travelling to see them, I envy those who live in the same town as the team they follow, especially during the good times, like Finn Harps-supporting Ballybofey residents in the buildup to the cup final.
I'd love to experience that kind of community atmosphere with everyone united behind the same cause. But that's just the way it is, there's nothing you can do about it. Yep, I could go along to see my local team every fortnight and enjoy it, but my heart wouldn't be in it because they're not my team and I can never make them my team.
Prosecutor: But isn't it an undeniable fact that you IFEC shower aren't real football fans, you're just pathetic slaves of Rupert Murdoch's Sky Sports and the grubby merchandising industry that has devoured English football?
LOIF: Back of the net prosecutor, back of the net!
Defendant: Hang on a minute. You appear to be neglecting the fact that most IFEC people became attached to their clubs in the days when Sky Sports was only a twinkle in Rupert's eye and the only replica shirts you could get your hands on were the ones your Ma made for you out of old curtains.
Back then RTE didn't show any English football. All you had was BBC's Match of the Day on a Saturday night and ITV's The Big Match on a Sunday afternoon. All the Irish papers carried were the weekend results, hardly a match report in sight. So we were hardly victims of media manipulation.
Prosecutor: Aaah, no English football on RTE and only the results in the Irish papers!
LOIF: Those were the days my friend, we thought they'd never end . . .
Prosecutor: Have you anything to say to the League of Ireland fans here present?
Defendant: I do. Lighten up lads (especially that bloody taxi driver who launched into a "600 years of oppression and you still support one of their teams, shame on you, shame on you" speech when I simply asked him if he'd heard any English scores. Hope you spent the five pence tip wisely). If you're unhappy with RTE for the amount of League of Ireland coverage, take it out on them, not the IFEC. And if live coverage of English games in pubs upsets you, then move your drinks into the bar and leave the lounge to us, then we can both be happy. Like it or not, there's live coverage of English games in pubs and extensive coverage in the papers because the demand is there. What are you asking for? Censorship?
LOIF: You're going down, you're going down, you're going, the defendant's going down.
Judge: Actually lads, the defendant isn't going down. Not Guilty. (Jaysus, that was some goal by Giggs on Wednesday night.)
Defendant: (It was your honour. It took me an hour and a half to find me tonsils).
