ADOLF HITLER – HE’S ONE OF YOUR OWN!

With all the furore surrounding that fancy-dress party at an Orange Hall, the thing that struck me was how the fuck you explain to your children why they’re wearing those Stars of David. CHILD: How’ve wae goat tae weer these stars, da? DAD: Cozzit goes wi’ ma costume. Hitler gassed aw the Jews. CHILD: What? […]

THE PEEPPUL ARE FIRED UP

Northern Ireland is one fucked-up place. It must be the only place in the world where firemen turn up to dangerous bonfires but spray the surrounding buildings with water instead of putting the fires out. And I’m surprised the whole of NI isn’t queuing up for treatment for their lungs with the fumes of burning […]

MY FELLOW MENTAL CASES

As many of you might know, I’ve been on ESA for quite a while now. After the constant bullying I suffered when a teacher, I doubt if I’d be able to work anywhere. I don’t respond to criticism very well anymore and can get extremely bad-tempered when I think I’m being treated unfairly. Whereas I […]

BEING PHILOSOPHICAL ABOUT THINGS

When I was at university, an ice-cream van used to come round every evening, stopping at each hall of residence. I was a regular customer, stocking up on Irn Bru for a night of essay writing. One evening, I suddenly took a notion for something I hadn’t had in years – an oyster. When I […]

REACTION IN PICTURES

“I knew it mistake to play on grass. The colour, she no right. It red ash at Ibrox from now on!”   “Stop! I’m going to pish myself!”   “Eh? Ah thoat wae won! Ah must’ve fell asleep an’ dreamt it.”     “Leave it, Pedro. The fucking Hun scum aren’t worth it!”   “How […]

I’LL NAME THAT TUNE IN ONE!

There have been a couple of changes to the dressing-rooms at Ibrox and Auchenhowie. Special, pigmented dust is now blown through ducts into the air in the changing-rooms. Before you get too alarmed, the dust has been tested thoroughly and is non-toxic. It does ensure, however, that when players are spitting or blowing their nose […]

A LOT TO LIVE UP TO

I didn’t see the game but, by all accounts, Boxy’s team is nothing to write home about. It seems it’s the same, old shite masquerading under different names; unlike the club itself, which is different shite masquerading under the same name. Nico Kranjcar, apparently, was the star of the show but had to be substituted […]