Well, they’re not taking things too well, are they? They’re all screaming about VAR and how officials have been cheating them all season. Christ, they’ve got no self-awareness at all. If VAR did exist in Scotland, and was used properly, they’d probably never be in a final again and wouldn’t be anywhere near the top of the table. They got a dodgy penalty, a Celtic player sent off, the 40million lbs man got away with murder and an unwarranted 6 minutes added on at the end. What the hell else do they want? It’s nobody else’s fault that they’re shite. Celtic were absolute mince and still won!
Offside? The telly showed from a different angle that Julien’s foot was the only thing that was offside. All the pish about three players being offside is just that; pish! And the commentator was adamant that Frimpong was pulling El Guffalo back; so why did the fat fucker go face down in the box? It looked to me as if he was backing into Frimpong and then threw himself down, taking Frimpong with him. And it wasn’t his only dive in the game. I had to laugh at them saying that his discipline problems were behind him. Are they fuck. The only reason he doesn’t have a problem this season is that nobody will show him a card! He should have been off long before he conned his way into that penalty.
We’re hearing from the agnivores that the penalty should have been taken again because Forster came off his line. Funny that. In practically every penalty I’ve ever seen taken, the goalkeeper comes off his line. The penalty isn’t taken again and nobody calls for that to happen. So, what’s different this time? Oh, right…
Broony looks to see if The Raynjurz are coming.
Speaking of differences; it appears that there’s a difference in the way ‘sectarian’ graffiti is dealt with. Remember a couple of days ago the outrage over ‘Fucking Huns’ being painted at the Neo-Gers training ground? Police Scotland were dropping everything to investigate. A different story with the graffiti that appeared outside Hampden. It seems the police ‘haven’t been informed’ and Glasgow Council aren’t going to do anything about it until somebody reports it. And The Peeppul think everybody’s against them!
The Daily Record had an article bemoaning the disappearance of some Christmas traditions. For example, traditionally, Father Christmas wore a green outfit. Jeez! Can you imagine parents from Larkhall or Harthill taking their little darlings to Santa’s Grotto, only to discover that he’s dressed in green? There’d be elves stabbed, plastic reindeer decapitated and Santa would end up hanging from a lamppost somewhere. I don’t think bringing back that tradition would work out too well.
As if that tradition isn’t bad enough, there’s worse to come. I’m certainly not old enough to remember silver thruppennies in a Christmas pudding and tanners were out of the question. For one thing, we couldn’t afford it and for another, my mother couldn’t cook to save herself. Anyway, the only coin small enough nowadays is a 5p and nobody’s going to thank you for running the risk of choking to death for that! At the very least, folk would want £2 coins to break their teeth on. And don’t get me started on the hygiene issues of manky, old coins in your dessert.
A tanner in the pudding or El Guffalo taking a penalty.
And then there’s the tradition of neighbours going round singing carols door to door. I don’t know about you, but I certainly wouldn’t welcome the cunts in my street caterwauling on my doorstep. I’d be keeping a bucket of pish handy. But the Daily Record might get their wish for a return to Victorian traditions with the Tories a shoo-in to win the election. Unless we leave this benighted union, we’ll all be spending Christmas like Bob Cratchit and his family, carving a seagull we murdered. God bless us every one!
Speaking of the election, some tosser named John McDonnell, who’s apparently the Shadow Chancellor at Westminster, is accusing the SNP of being in alliance with the Tories in Scotland. Where the hell did he get that from? In councils up and down Scotland, Labour have worked with the Tories to keep the SNP out and there have been tales of some Labour candidates encouraging folk to vote tactically for their local Tory. It’s hardly surprising that nobody in Scotland trusts Labour anymore.
And speaking of Christmas, I don’t think I’ve looked forward to Christmas Day so much since I was wee. No, I’m not expecting fantastic presents or a spectacular dinner or anything. What I’m looking forward to is being able to watch Channel 4 without endless trailers for that fucking Tiger Who Came To Tea. I’ve grown to hate that fucking brute!
Der Fuhrer buys biscuits made by some company called the East Coast Bakehouse. I assumed this was somewhere near Edinburgh, since the chocolate-covered ones don’t say ‘chocolate-covered’ on the packet; it says ‘chocolate enrobed‘! Imagine my surprise to find out that the company is based in Drogheda. It seems the East Coast of Ireland is just as pretentious as the East Coast of Scotland!
Get tae fuck!
Jeezuz! That was a shock. Der Fuhrer was away out with the dog and was taking ages. I was beginning to think something had happened to her. She’d left her phone in the house, so I’d be unaware if anything did happen. And then I saw the headline on the Daily Record webpage and it seemed certain that something had happened. Luckily, she and Der Fuhrerhund came in the door just as I was reading that a big bird had died! Christ, I thought I was going to have to make my own bacon rolls for a minute there!
“Awright, troops? Aye, well Ah’m no’! The durty, fuckin’, cheatin’, Taig, Tarrier, Feenyin, tattie-munchin’ basturts! We should’ve hud it least three penalties an’ they fuckers kept jumpin’ in fronty-y Morelos so it looked as if ay wiz kickin’ thum. An’ when they wurnae daein’ that, they were shovin’ um oan ays fuckin’ face. An’ that fuckin’ Feenyin referee let thum away wi’ it. Ay works in wan-y theyr schools, so ay diz. An’ thur should’ve been aboot twinty fuckin’ minutes added oan the wye they cunts kept bringin’ the game tae a halt. Fuckin’ cheatin’ bastuuuuuuuurts!”
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“Hey! Diz nae cunt ‘aant tae hear nga okinion agoot the ngatch?”