A Question of Attribution

What a delightfully busy weekend I've had; all day Saturday spent debating with myself in my bedroom over how best to annoy the Rangers support a week before their game against my beloved Celtic. I've already gone down the road of calling them white trash and troglodytes so I thought I'd get them thinking with a line about leaving their mules parked outside Ibrox. Caloo calay, how clever am I? I also stuck a bit in my piece about their abuse of Keane next week in the hope that they'll rise to the bait and I'll be able to gloat over my incredible foresight. So excited was I by the end of writing this week's column, I had to pull out my Martin O'Neil scrapbook and knock one off, finishing late on Saturday night, exhausted and unable to leave the flat to go to Jintys to meet Neil Lennon as promised so he could give me a thrashing in the toilets. As I lay there sweating in my corduroys, my phone was busy vibrating away with texts coming in from the lovely Neil saying first that he was waiting for me in Jintys then he was fed up waiting and was going to Karbon and then that he'd met Peter Lawwell and Dr John Reid and were leaving to ambush Alan McGregor who they's spotted leaving on his own. They are such scamps. I can just imagine Lawwell, minutes before jumping McGregor calling up his agents in all of the papers and barking at them on how to report the McGregor incident (if at all). It certainly wouldn't be as a sectarian attack, that's for sure - the Celtic establishment have made sure that sectarian only enters into it if it's an attack on a Celtic player just like they've made sure that Nil By Mouth when asked to comment on an attack on a Rangers player or fans, will stick their fingers in their ears and sing the Fields of Athenry very loudly until the reporter hangs up. If he phones at all. Such is the way of the press in Scotland and who would have it any other way? Not me, it's give me a right old hard on.

Bumped into Gordon Smith, Craig Levein and George Peat yesterday over at Hampden where I'd toddled to try and quiz them about Scotland's fixtures for Euro 2012. I came across them in the car park where Peat was carrying a huge ladder. 'George,' I shouted and he turned round, knocking down Smith and Levein with the ends of the ladder as he turned. They got back up, 'George, over here,' I shouted again and down went Smith and Levein another time, holding their heads and glaring at Peat who still couldn't see me. 'George, oi, George,' I cried but this time Smith and Levein ducked but Peat turned a full 360 degrees and caught them the second time knocking off their bowler hats as they were knocked to the ground. I giggled and wandered off, making up quotes in my head and trying to figure how best to slander the Rangers players in the Scotland team in my article.

Sunday lunchtime in the Chip and the Scotland Today and Reporting Scotland bhoys are all there having a boozy brunch with pudding served in lines on the cisterns of the loos and celebrating the general mood of the country as Celtic have pulled the lead of Rangers down to seven points. Everyone has been going doolally about this even although Rangers still have a game in hand and will probably bring it back to ten points after Sundays game against Mowbrays Cirque de Soleil defence. If this happens then I'm sure Mowbray will leave Celtic, after all, he's been telling me for months he hates it there. I have a bad feeling that Rangers will win the game but this isn't shared by the Chip bhoys who are all whooping it up and celebrating their diversity by singing charming songs about Irish Republican murder gangs. Later on I make my way home and am mugged in the lane by the side of Sainsburys where my wallet is stolen and my arse given a good wringing by Marc Horne - I could tell it was him in spite of the balaclava he was wearing since his breath always smells of John Reid's cock. Still, he gave me a good shafting, sneered then spat on me, leaving me gasping for more as I lay in the gutter. As I said, what a delightfully busy weekend.