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There’s A Part Of Our “Support” Every Bit As Hateful As The Sickest Section Of The Ibrox Following.

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There is a ton of whatabouttery out there today on the Lee Rigby song.

There’s a lot of people who want to shade this, or explain it away as the actions of some rascals about town, or folks who had one too many beers, or guys at the wind-up trying to goad the far-right element which was hanging around Sunderland last week like a bad smell.

It was none those of things, and to me there’s just no shading it. I couldn’t give a toss about the whatabouttery either. This was an act of astounding indecency. It was scandalous. The people who did it might self-define as Celtic fans but they barely qualify as human beings.

Some people need a right good shake.

What’s wrong with you?

What’s wrong with you that you need it explaining that it is absolutely abysmal, sick, beyond the pale in every way, to sing a song that mocks a murder victim? To celebrate that event whilst walking down a public street, something good and not an act of evil?

I ask again; what’s wrong with you?

What the f@ck is wrong with you?

Even if you can’t act on a human level and be sickened by what happened to the guy himself – and seriously, what? – he had a family, just like you. He had people who loved him, just like you. And this doesn’t just piss on his memory but it takes a big long one all over them …

I mean, Jesus, that’s … it’s mind-bending if this needs to be spelled out.

There are a lot of people who will be foaming when they read this.

They can foam.

They can piss off too, for all I care.

There are others who think we should be “standing up for our own” and not “sticking them in” to the newspapers.

You know what?

If these people are what you define as “your own” then you hug them as tight as you like.

Have a good one.

Just keep them as far away from me as possible, because watching that video I felt the exactly the same emotions I felt watching the Lee Rigby incident unfold on TV; a deep need to throw up, an itch to hit something as hard as I could, but more, an overwhelming sense of despair at the human species itself and what’s gone so colossally awry with it.

There are elements of our support every bit as hateful as the part of the one at Ibrox that crawled out of a gutter and which I write about so frequently, and I am not particularly bothered to see them “grassed up” to the media.

You want to walk down the public street extolling, in song, the virtues of a brutal murder, well as far as I’m concerned you are taking your chances and of more than just finding yourself on YouTube. You clearly wanted to be the poster children of arseholes all over the world.

Congratulations. Now you are.

“Is he calling those guys ….?” I can hear some ask even now. Yeah, I am, actually. And I’ll see you and raise you. I’m not even suggesting that they go and watch football at Ibrox; that would be an unpardonable slur on the vast majority of those who do. I’m suggesting that those people find that part of Ibrox which spews out bile 24/7 and take their seats in there. People with so little moral grounding can easily adapt to new targets although if I were them (the thought makes me want to disinfect in a bath of bleach) I’d keep that particular song off the playlist whilst they learn the words of “F@ck Bobby Sands, he’s deid.”

I’ve read enough excuses and passing of the buck and attempts to make this less than what it is today already, and I’ll read many, many more, I’m sure.

Yes, this was a handful of people, but they’re past redeeming, they’re beyond reach and help.

Sickness like that doesn’t come with a cure, it’s there. It just is.

This is the same part of our support which, in little secluded moments where they aren’t surrounded even by “other Celtic fans” who think the Ibrox disaster is a source of amusement; I smacked one of those guys one night in a takeaway on Cambuslang Main Street and I might not have stopped except the guy told me my food was ready and I wanted to get home before it got cold.

No, the folk in that video aren’t what concerns me; they’ll get what’s coming to them when the police kick their doors in and their names are in the paper. Lives ruined. Over a song. Like the degenerate who walked through McChuills singing a racist ditty about Scott Sinclair.

If people are looking for moral equivalence, that’s it right there.

What does concern me is the much bigger number who are trying to find a way to spin this.

There is no spinning it. There’s no excusing it. There’s no way to deflect it.

And I understand that part of that is feeling like you need a shower after watching them defile the Celtic strip in that way, but the only way that you can wash the taint of that off yourself is to call it what it is; disgusting. Shameful. Inhuman.

If you still need to feel better about it, try to remember that the guys in question are like those psychopaths in Sevco blue who’ve attacked perfect strangers or committed disgraceful acts; they aren’t part of this community, they use the football shirt as camouflage, so they can fit in somewhere, so they don’t stand out as being terribly warped individuals, which is what they are. To them the club itself is a shield behind which they can justify every sick thought in their heads … and those people are everywhere, unfortunately.

And they are defined by hate.

To those who would make excuses for them, or seek to minimise the act by deflecting, or who would purely and simply try to find some way to bury it because they wear Celtic strips … well, folks, it’s you lot I’m really worried about. Because take a look back over what I just wrote; our club gets only the most peripheral mention in it. Because this isn’t even about our club, although I believe everyone who wears that shirt should at least try and be an ambassador for it.

This is about simply behaving like a human being, and there’s an element which follows Celtic which is incapable of that.

And to them, and those who’d defend them, I ask once again, with no expectation of ever getting a satisfactory answer …

What the f@ck is wrong with you?

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