I MISSED Pittodrie's final afternoon of footballing drudgery for 2005, still being marooned in Ireland. Even so, I shared in the plod towards yet another 0-0 draw - Aberdeen's third in four games - since I spent another self-flagellating afternoon in front of Ceefax page 321. While my dad and brother urged Aberdeen forward in the flesh, I spent my time imploring the TV to send a little message of happiness. But as my wretched afternoon reached its inevitable conclusion, I drew consolation from one thought: at least I didn't have to put up with the Inverness supporters in the South Stand.

Fans of Caley Thistle, and those of Livingston, are an odd breed. Both teams were formed in 1994, and their supporters have a peculiarly sunny outlook. Their relationships with rival fans have not curdled over decades of enmity, so their songbooks feature little more than the simple chants of encouragement, usually "Cah-lee/Lih-vee (clap, clap, clap)". The bilious and imaginative insults hurled by rival supporters are conspicuous by their absence. And unlike most teams, Caley and Livvy aren't weighed down by decades of mediocrity. While opposition fans wallow in their side's also-ran status, Caley and Livvy fans, in their unrelenting cheeriness, seem oblivious to the likelihood that they'll only see their team win a trophy once every few decades.

Livingston have a drummer who follows his team across Scotland, and each time I've sat at Aberdeen-Livvy games I've heard several splutters of rage directed at his incessant thumping. That's because he unnerves us, although not by the noise he makes. The problem is that he and his pals are so unnaturally perky - like Stepford wives in the away end.