Anyone with a touch of entrepreneurial flair would be stationed outside Tannadice and Paradise this afternoon, selling the most sought after of commodities. Not the Prozac or Pampers, although they too might be useful; not even the usual array of scarfs and memorabilia. No, the day of the tranny has come.

A real Arthur Daley would have his sidekick installed a little further along the approaches with a stall laid out with overpriced batteries. It's certainly a captive audience. For news of events at the other ground will be more eagerly awaited than when they brought the news from Aix to Ghent.

For today is the day. No more calculations that would set even Euclid's head spinning. It's win or bust for the Old Firm and tensions are running high. Two teams which have handed the championship back and forward to one another like the proverbial hot potato over the past few weeks have come down to the wire.

Last weekend the long suffering fans went from zenith to nadir (Celtic) and nadir to zenith (Rangers) as the topsy-turvy league took more twists than a Morse mystery.

On a glorious Sunday afternoon the Celtic faithful purloined cars, buses and vans to head for Fife and what they expected to be their day of glory. The day when they would end their rival's stranglehold and savour success after so long in the boondocks.

In scenes reminiscent of the drive through the streets when Sarajevo was freed, the cavalcade made its way over the Kincardine Bridge, green and white flags and scarves flying in the wind, passengers smiling and waving knowingly at strangers bent on a similar mission. You could almost touch the expectation and the camaraderie. Surely lowly Dunfermline would not stand in the way of the ultimate prize. The title was there for the taking.

Stalwarts went back over the glory day and taunted one another about the benchmark games they had attended. The prize went to the fanatic who had been at Dunfermline in similar circumstances 30 years ago. They lauded their heroes.

''Look at Jock Stein,'' one said. ''He was as quick as a flash. Remember when he was asked which he would sign if there were two great young prospects, one a Catholic, the other a Protestant. Straight away he said the Protestant.

''When he was asked why he said because Rangers wouldn't sign a Catholic and in the end he would get them both.''

Happily, those days are over but it was a time for telling tales and looking to a bright future.

In Dunfermline itself it was carnival time. Many had queued at the crack of dawn the previous week to scoop up the few remaining tickets but others had simply made the journey so that they could be there for the anticipated party.

An area of bare ground beside the park was packed with Bhoys and Ghirls happy to sit in the sunshine and listen to the roars.

As the game began Celtic supporters seemed to pop up in every area of the ground. The terracing, a quaint reminder of a seemingly distant past in the days of heated seats and executive entertaining, was packed with stalwarts, vying over the barriers. ''Stand in front of it,'' one man urged his small son who had plainly never considered the dangers of a crush.

The noise was deafening. All the party songs, new and old, some long unused, echoed around the ground from the haunting, emotional You'll Never Walk Alone to Cheer Up Walter Smith, and to a crescendo after Celtic scored of Cheerio Ten in a Row, We're Gonna Celebrate and There's Only One Wim Jansen.

But as the second half got under way nerves began to fray both on and off the pitch. A surefire case of so near and yet so . . . When Dunfermline scored the champagne went flat.

And as the disconsolate fans trudged from the park one turned to another and said: ''It's like a beautiful woman. She pouts and teases, and sometimes gives you the come on but somehow never seems to come up with the goods.''

Others were more fickle. ''See that (expletive) Wim (expletive) Jansen. He (expletive) couldnae (expletive) manage (expletive ) all.''

And so after a week of jangling nerves there's all to play for this afternoon.

At least the agony will be over by 4.45. There'll be no extra time today. I wonder where my Walkman is.