The Huns are absolutely fucking blazing, especially since they’re not entirely sure who’s to blame and who they should take their anger out on. Steven Gerrard, individual players, the whole team, referees, the SFA; as usual, the list is endless. On the 8th minute of the Hamilton game they were all applauding their manager (well, a half-empty stadium was), by the end, those that were left behind were booing. On Hun Media they’re all denying that they took part in the applause; so we must have imagined it. Some of the Huns tried to attack the few Hamilton fans that were coming out of the stadium because they dared to celebrate. As I said, they don’t know who to take their anger out on.
Their anger at other supporters celebrating is part-and-parcel of what Hector was saying; the belief that teams treat every match against Neo-Gers like a cup final. How dare the fuckers actually try not to lose! Don’t they know that they’re playing against ‘the most successful club in the world’? They should be terrified and trip over themselves to let the superior side win. That sense of entitlement is deeply ingrained in The Peeppul’s psyche.
You’ve got to laugh at Andy Lacey and his ilk, saying how domestic success means nothing; it’s Europe that counts. Of course, you know what’s behind this. For years, The Peeppul have been saying how their dead team was the most successful in the world because it won 54 domestic titles. At the end of this season, Celtic will have won 51. Only three more and they’ll equal Rangers’ record; four more and they’ll surpass it. By the Huns’ own reckoning, Celtic will be ‘The most successful club in the world’! That’s why they’re already laying the groundwork for saying that domestic titles mean nothing.
The new Star Trek series doesn’t look up to much!
Gerrard is getting desperate and has approached former Neo-Gers manager, Boxy, for advice. He must have done, otherwise how do you explain that shite about blinking with one eye? Next thing you know he’ll be banging on about dugs and caravans.
“Mind, though, Mabel’s out of bounds!”
“Too fuckin’ right!”
Their hope is evaporating quickly now, even the idea of Coronavirus stopping Celtic winning the league has been taken away from them. Neil Doncaster has announced that, if the rest of the season’s matches have to be cancelled, Celtic will win the title instead of it being void. Now, nothing short of Armageddon is going to stop nine in a row. The board has already been in touch with Donald Trump to see if he can accommodate them. He doesn’t need to destroy the world; just Scotland.
“Where the hell is Scadlin?”
A strong missive was sent by Neo-Gers to the SFA, outlining the unfairness of the match against Hearts. Like the old, dead team, it has always been understood that, at this stage in any competition, Neo-Gers would be playing at home. Did something go wrong with the microwave? If the game had taken place on the Ibrox quagmire, Neo-Gers might have had more of a chance. They demanded that the match be replayed at Ibrox, as it should have been in the first place. After the Hamilton game, though, the SFA received an e-mail telling them to forget it!
While Jabba is getting the Scottish media to keep blaming the players and lay off Gerrard, mainly because Neo-Gers can’t afford to sack him, The Peeppul are already calling for another manager. And they’re adamant that they want no more Catholics. Their ideal candidate would be somebody by the name of Staunchy McStaunchface, but they’ll settle for Graeme Souness or Auld Dignity. Bringing ‘back’ the glory years, though, is well nigh impossible. They don’t seem to understand that those ‘glory years’ never really existed; they were a complete lie. Now that those days of spending other people’s money have gone, there’s no way Souness, Smith or anybody else will come near them.
And the Huns can’t even build up their hopes for next season. Neo-Gers have thrown everything but the kitchen sink (although that’s probably in hock as well) in trying to stop Celtic reaching nine in a row. There’s fuck all left and there are umpteen court cases coming up that are going to add to their woes. Going into liquidation is possibly the only way out. Not that The Peeppul see it that way. In their deluded minds, they’re going to get gazillions for all their Action Man’s Heids and they can spend all that money getting world-class players in. The truth is that next season, if they’re still here, they’ll be struggling to finish in the top six. Whatever money they do get for El Huffalo and his ilk will be going to pay off their debts.
While Neo-Gers have got the begging bowl out for a kit deal, Celtic are signing up with Adidas, the biggest sportswear company in Europe and the second-biggest in the world. The Huns want their club to sign up with this company as well, or maybe even Nike, which is the biggest in the world. It’s not going to happen, though. These companies don’t associate themselves with losers; they leave that to Hummel, with whom Neo-Gers have already burnt their bridges. It looks like that wee guy in Turkey is going to be their only option.
“One pound strips – very very cheap!”
Speaking of bridges, it seems the planned link-up between Scotland and Northern Ireland is now going to be a tunnel. No doubt our esteemed Home Secretary is already lining up those 8 million ‘layabouts’ to do the job. It’ll be a bit like the Bevan Boys during the war; folk being conscripted and sent to work with no say in the matter. What are they going to call them – the Priti Boys? It’s the most stupid idea ever, especially since you know that it’s something that dissident Republicans will blow up the first chance they get. With that in mind, nobody’s ever going to use the fucking thing, if it ever comes to fruition. A waste of money.
“Christ, this is gonny take iz fuckin’ ages!”
Although I live quite near Edinburgh, the place and the folk in it get on my fucking nerves. They’re like The Peeppul with their sense of entitlement. When the BBC first started up in the 1920s, they were looking to base their Scottish headquarters in Edinburgh. The folk in the capital were up in arms; they didn’t want that type of thing in their city. They were effectively chased out and BBC Scotland has been based in Glasgow ever since. Of course, folk in Edinburgh later changed their minds and they’ve been moaning about it ever since. They honestly expected, and still expect, the BBC to relocate totally to Edinburgh. ‘BBC Glasgow’ they disparagingly call it.
I would imagine the same goes for the football national stadium; it’s not the kind of thing they’d have wanted in their city and probably still feel the same way. But then they moan about having to travel ‘all the way’ to Glasgow for a Scottish Cup semi-final. It should be held at Murrayfield, they bleat. Well, fuck them! You don’t hear the likes of Liverpool or Manchester United moaning about having to go to Wembley, do you? I mean, for fuck’s sake, it’s only about forty miles!
They’re all fucking hypocrites as well. I lived in Edinburgh in 1990, when Glasgow was City of Culture. They were all absolutely blazing about it. One guy in a pub ranted, “What the fuck diz Glesgy ken aboot culchur? Edinburry’s the place fur culchur!” He was pissed out his head and had vomit all down his shirt and trousers. The punchline, however, came later when he announced that he supported Rangers!
“Awright, troops? Ah don’t care what Mr. Traynor an’ aw the wans in the papers say, wae need tae get rid-y Gerrard pronto. Ah’m sure thur must bae some clause in ays contract thit kin bae used – bein’ seen gauin’ tae mass ur sumhin’. An’ that fuckin’ Morelos wan needs tae go iz well. Useless cunt. Wae need tae hiv a good clearoot an’ get rid-y aw the fuckin’ Kafflicks. Thuv nae right tae be it Ibrox in the furst place. Evrybdy knows thit thur aw fuckin’ bigots! Basturts!”
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