When a game is this dull, straws are clutched faster than Miley Cyrus in see-through underwear.
Apparently, the former child star will do anything to further her career; dance provocatively at this week's VMA Awards, perform lewd acts on stage and wear racy clothes... but she draws the line at putting in a transfer request.
Who would have thought that Miley Cyrus and Wayne Rooney would have so much in common? One will risk offending everyone to push a career forward and the other licks her lips and jiggles her bottom at the crowd.
At least Cyrus' car crash of a "live" performance was entertaining in a comically horrifying kind of way. Yesterday morning's 0-0 draw between Manchester United and Chelsea was often more painful than a hair weave.
So the straws came out quickly for clutching. If all else fails, bring on the Roo and Mou show.
Almost everything Rooney and Jose Mourinho did at Old Trafford was highlighted or exaggerated to manufacture interest and excitement.
Whenever Rooney touched the ball - or his name was mentioned - the CSI Transfer Team were called in to analyse the smallest incidents in forensic detail.
When he smashed a magical cross-field pass out wide, he was clearly committed to United's cause.
When he flew into a crunching sliding tackle, he was not interested in joining Chelsea.
When he scratched his nose, he was distracted. When he pulled the shorts from the crack of his backside, he was unfocused. When his hair blew in the wind, he was due for another appointment at the comb-over clinic.
To pass the time of a tedious content, every Rooney moment was over-dissected and over-praised. The only sane voice amid the hysteria appeared to be Michael Owen.
Speaking in the TV studio after the game, he mumbled something about Rooney "playing 10 times better than that in other games."
Come on, Michael, get with the programme. What about that great tackle? What about that ball through to Danny Welbeck? What about the time when Rooney caught a speeding bullet and jumped a freight train? If that didn't prove his determination to stay, nothing did.
Even the fans were inadvertently clumped together under the Rooney microscope. Their every move, song and action were over-interpreted.
When his name was chanted, it proved the fans still loved him. When the Chelsea supporters chanted his name, they were making a statement (yes, they were being sarcastic. They were mocking the slightly nauseating grovelling from the home supporters.)
But the chanting became a petty contest. First the United fans sang "Roo-ney"... then the Chelsea faithful bellowed "Roooooo-ney"... then the home crowd shouted "Roooooooo-ney"... and then the away end screamed "Rooooooooo-ney" until they turned blue and passed out.
The highlight of the surreal silliness happened whenever the striker took a corner. Apparently, Rooney's corners showed how much he was worshipped, as the camera cut to half a dozen guys with their bellies hanging out, standing behind the corner flag and muttering "Go Wazza."
Well, if that doesn't keep him at the club, nothing will.
It was hardly a ringing endorsement. The love scene might have been more convincing if the fans had at least locked arms and serenaded Rooney with a quick burst of Bryan Adams' "Everything I Do, I Do It For You".
Perhaps aware that the United-Chelsea stalemate needed something more than Rooney conspiracy theories to stop viewers from jabbing chopsticks in their eyes, match-day producers also gave us "Mourinho-cam".
Every couple of minutes, the match pulled away from the (lack of) action to zoom in on Mourinho doing, well, nothing really.
No, wait, that's not true. There was the pen incident. For several whole seconds, Mourinho couldn't find his pen on the touchline. He searched everywhere, his suit jacket, his trouser pockets, absolutely everywhere.
This hilarious scene afforded much chuckling in the commentary box. I had to stop laughing myself for fear of my sides splitting.
But "Mourinho-cam" never let us down. We were treated to the Chelsea manager standing up; sitting down; standing up again and waving his arms; sitting down again; standing up again and pulling his elbows backwards like a confused chicken.
Even I got sucked into the madness. When a few minutes passed in the second half without checking in on "Mourinho-cam", I found myself saying: "Ooh, I wonder what Mourinho's doing now? Will he be standing, sitting or doing the elbow chicken dance?"
The suspense was killing me.
Still, "Mourinho-cam" and the Rooney conspiracies were the highlights of a non-event. They made for an entertaining double act. But I'm not sure they will join forces at Chelsea.
The Blues can offer millions, but can they promise six pot-bellied guys behind a corner flag mumbling "go Wazza"?
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