Up the Govan Rear

Well my plan worked, in spite of what the Republican Boys say, I can still wind up the Rangers fans especially on Followfollow where I sat for a few hours yesterday evening reading the fall out from my piece in the Times. I must admit that I became a little turned on while I read it and couldn't help but stick on Elton's greatest hits and knock one off. Unfortunately the wife walked in on me and on seeing my situation, stayed remarkably calm, walked to the pc and looked at the screen. As she walked away I heard her say, 'I'm just surprised it's not Martin O'Neill naked on there.' Whatever could she mean?

Later last night I took a call from the editor of the Scottish edition of the Times and had to go into his office. Had I gone too far this time? I needn't have worried, he greeted me with a big smile and told me I was doing a great job and to keep sticking it to those proddy bastards. Then he introduced me to someone on the other side of the phone he had been talking to on speaker phone. The guy was from BBC Scotland and it turns out was one of the chaps from the Chip the other night. They told me about the racist murderer who was due to be featured on the news that night but they had a problem: the only picture they had, the brute was wearing a Celtic strip, what would I recommend? Of course I told them a little photoshopping wouldn't go amiss and they seemed to ponder this. If I keep this up then perhaps I could end up with my own current affairs programme where every week I fearlessly lay into Rangers?

Walking home I bumped into Gerry Duffy of the Sun and we went for a pint. I suggested Jintys because we might meet the Republican Boys in there and Gerry agreed, saying he knew quite a few of them from his supporters bus. They weren't there although Gerry did seem a bit distracted and kept saying to someone that he'd see them over there in a few minutes - what could he have meant by that? He downed his Guinness really quickly and told me he'd have to go but first he had something really important to tell me about his next piece on how terrible Rangers are and he'd need to tell me in secret in the toilets. I went in with him and he beckoned me into the cubicle and as he leaned forward to whisper his secret into my ear, he grabbed me by the ears and spun me around, yanking down my trousers and pierced me, pushing my face into the mirror and bloodying my nose as he thrust and screamed that I take it like a little bitch before finishing all over my corduroys. Then he sneered, spat on me and left me dazed in a puddle.

I got home to dirty looks from the wife and went to bed to ponder the days events.