SOCCER:Dunphy admits to liking the divil in Mourinho, but Giles often can't find the words to describe his loathing of the fella's carry-on, writes MARY HANNIGAN

WELL, THAT was all a bit on the petulant and nasty side, a masterclass in play-acting and little else. Until Lionel Messi intervened, that is.

Indeed, when they were knocking lumps out of each other at half-time you had to spare a thought or three for the Spanish manager, he might need Ban Ki-moon to mediate between the Real and Barca lads before their next international get-together.

Not that this, eh, rivalry caused them any great difficulties in South Africa last summer, but that was before Jose Mourinho arrived in Spanish football and started messing with people’s heads, as Eamon Dunphy put it.

Dunphy admits to liking the divil in Mourinho, but John Giles quite often can’t even find the words to describe his loathing of the fella’s carry-on, pointing to the fact that he’d even managed to rile the usually serene-ish Pep Guardiola.

“He is the chief, the ****ing man,” the Barca coach, not Giles, had said of Mourinho earlier in the week. “I can’t compete with him. If Barcelona want someone who competes in that way, then they should look for another manager. But we, as people and an institution, don’t do that.”

Dunphy kind of took this as another Mourinho mind-games triumph, reminding us of Kevin Keegan’s Alex Ferguson-induced meltdown all those years ago, but Giles remained a bit unconvinced.

“I think that’s total nonsense,” he said, reckoning it was just yet more look-at-me brattish behaviour from Mourinho, that didn’t actually have any impact on the games.

“You don’t like him, John,” Bill O’Herlihy chuckled.

“No, I don’t like him at all – I think he has no class about him, Bill.”

Well, Mourinho’s mind games had certainly worked on Giles, he was so pumped up and so desperate for Barca to prevail you expected him to offer himself as a replacement for the injured Andres Iniesta in their midfield. That’s actually quite a nice thought:

Gilesie to Messi, Messi to Xavi, Xavi to Gilesie: Goal.

Before heading over to Madrid there was just time for Giles to play tribute to Manchester United’s victory the night before. “I never saw a team in the Champions League semi-finals as bad as Schalke, desperate . . . all over the place . . . awful, awful.”

So, off we went, and you couldn’t but recall Real Madrid deity Alfredo di Stefano’s words after the teams’ recent draw in the league: “The lion was Barcelona and Real Madrid was the mouse. Barcelona treat the ball with adoration and respect, Madrid just run back and forth constantly, tiring themselves out.”

The gist of Mourinho’s not unreasonable reply was a respectful “count me trophies, mate”, but, as usual, the marks for artistic merit last night wouldn’t have been that high.

“Baffled,” said Liam Brady of Real’s approach to the game, which was less than positive, as suggested by Bill’s big stat: Barca had 71 per cent of the first-half possession. Giles was impressed, but just wished they’d do something with it.

The panel then got word that Barca’s reserve goalkeeper had been sent off for handbags in the half-time hullabaloo.

“Well, there was always a fire burning between them, now Mourinho has thrown the petrol on it – this is the Mourinho factor,” said Dunphy.

“Ah, I don’t think so, Eamon,” said Giles, his mind spinning from, well, the mind games.

The second half and you could only hope for some calm. Pepe. Red card.

Well, that went well. On first viewing it did indeed seem as if Pepe had attempted to remove Dani Alves’ leg from its socket, although Ray Houghton had a marginally different opinion: “I don’t think that’s a red card . . . he’s barely touched him! You’d think he’d broken his leg! I don’t think there’s any malice! I’m sure he’ll be up very soon.”

In fairness to Ray, he wasn’t wrong: from appearing to be at death’s door Alves was skipping around the place in no time at all.

Miraculous, you have to say.

By now George Hamilton had had enough. “It has been an awful occasion, a shambles,” he sighed, as someone else dropped to the floor, seemingly having been mowed down by a Kalashnikov, but actually having been being tapped on the ankle.

But then, Messi: “Gol, gol, gol, gol, gol, gol,” as the Spanish sometimes put it. And the little bundle of magic only went and did it again.

“The sun always shines on the righteous,” concluded Brady, “and it did in Madrid tonight.”

Giles was having none of it. “I don’t think Barcelona were righteous at all, Liam.”

A pair of them in it? Probably. But as Giles put it, “thank God for Messi”.

Indeed, bless his Barca socks.