Today’s guff is still wondering how Macklemore won

Tick, tick, tick, goes the great transfer clock. And tic, tic, tic goes the small, uncontrolled movement under the right eyelids of football fans around the nation. When the rose-red fingers of Dawn welcomed the New Year, you had the hope of signing that player, the one who would make a difference, the one who would get you off your seat, the one who would do one to bigger and better pastures after half a season of decent football leaving behind a trail of what ifs and tear-stained faces.

But now, sitting on your lucky chair (the zapper is always placed in a straight line when not in use and you do not change your position lest it bring bad luck), flicking through the sports channels, you know the arrival of Jim White and bad news is imminent and so that earlier hope you had has seeped out of you like sweat from a raver. And not one of those ‘oh look at me, up at the crack in an early morning east London rave that is actually just a glorified dance class’ ravers; more like one of those ‘oh look at me eating my ear off and pouring out industrial strength sweat while listening to industrial strength music in industrial Manchester all those years ago’ ravers. However, one of the few exceptions to this nervous ticking is all those fans of Chelsea, for the Mill cometh with news and hope and happiness for you in the shape of Diego Costa.

No longer, dear fans of Chelsea, will you have to suffer the ignominy of Fernando Torres being your best striker. No longer, dear fans of Chelsea, will your midfield maestros have to work their little socks off, setting up chance after chance only to find Samuel Eto’o, 83, unable to get his walking frame into the box on time. No longer, dear fans of Chelsea, will you have to depend on Frank Lampard wheezing his way into the area to score that vital once more. For soon you will have a striker of such repute and grace and beauty that a man would sell his first and second born just to get within touching distance of his right boot. The arrival of Costa must come at a cost, however, for Atlético Madrid are only allowing their star striker to say so long to Spain if they are given an over-sized cheque with an over-sized amount written on it, as well as being allowed to keep keeper Thibaut Courtois. That might hitch the deal a little but Chelsea’s January jaunts will not stop there though. They also want to get their mitts on Southampton’s Luke Shaw but they face a fight to death with Manchester United for the defender’s love.

Speaking of Manchester United, cash-rich Monaco have decided that they are striker-strapped following Radamel Falcao’s trip to the knee doctor and are ready to get the cheque book out once again. Top of their striking list is bottom of the Red Devils’ striking list, Javier Hernández. David Moyes may already have told Monaco and the Mexican that he has about as much chance of being let go as Moyes has of appearing on page three of a tabloid newspaper, topless and giving his tuppence worth on why he thinks the protests against climate change at Stansted airport backfired, but that hasn’t stopped the Frenchmen and their henchmen from making enquiries. If, as expected they fail to get their hands on Hernández, Monaco will make eyes at training-ground-íncident’s Dani Osvaldo.

That the revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe, you have to make it fall is a sentiment that Stoke‘s main man, Mark Hughes, has taken to heart, as he paces his office, hands working overtime, wondering just how he and his beloved can leave behind the nasty image the club endured under the previous regime. He has already plucked the ball from the brilliant blue skies blazing over the Britannia and shown the players that the ground can be used not just for walking on but playing on to. And that has helped. But now he is ready to show the world that his side are not the just a bunch of tough-tacklers who like nothing better than to have an early bath on game day. How shall he do this you ask? By signing the sort of level-headed midfielder who can play, by signing the sort of level-headed midfielder who can pass, by signing the sort that is Sunderland’s Lee Cattermole. Don’t fear the gap that he will leave behind Sunderland devotees, it will soon be filled with a like-for-like replacement in the shape of Ever Banega.

Finally, Étienne Capoue can no longer pretend that he is having a whale of a time in Tottenham. London is just not for him. He hates the tube, the shops are never open and the food stinks of vinegar. With this in mind, he has informed his Mr 15% to get back on the blower with Napoli and get things sorted quick snap for that transfer clock is tick, tick, ticking and Jim White is on his way.

• Transfer window

Ian McCourt

theguardian.com