Interesting the things they believe in, isn’t it?
Dave King for one.
A fairy-tale written by the Brothers Grimm that.
Think of it like if the Tooth Fairy didn’t wait for teeth to fall out, but instead knocked them out and paid you for each one.
Going for 55. That’s another one, right?
Conspiracy theories are popular over there.
The directors of the Flat Earth Society played some of their fan videos and were like “Are these people full on nuts, or what?”
The Grand Scheme of The Unseen Fenian Hand is my personal favourite; how a gigantic conspiracy involving Celtic, the Labour Party, senior Tories, the SNP, HMRC, Lloyds Bank and innumerable others came together in 2012 to destroy their club. And failed, of course.
That’s the biggest nutty theory of them all; the Survival Lie.
Hey, if all of that was true answer me this; HMRC is Her Majesty’s Revenue And Customs.
Why isn’t the Queen on our dressing room wall instead of theirs?
In the excellent horror classic Wolfen, Albert Finney thinks a group of Native Americans living in New York might have committed a series of murders, in a frenzied state thinking they are wild animals. (You have to watch it to get it.) When he goes to see them and confront them, he follows a lead suspect and instead of seeing a dangerously deranged individual he sees somebody crawling about in the buff and drinking out of a puddle.
There ends that part of the investigation.
What I’m saying is, don’t try to apply logic to these Peepul; instead wait until the right night, point up the sky and say to them, with some pity, “Sevco fans, there lies moon. Go and howl.”
Today I’m laughing at Alfredo Morelos. He has failed to get into the Colombia squad. That’s not so bad in itself, until you consider that there were ten other strikers named in the team. Ten, that’s right. If they had to name a team of forwards, a full starting eleven, he might, just might, have scraped into the goalie slot. Or a place on the bench. Maybe.
The provisional Colombia squad is forty players deep … forty. And he’s not in it. I guess he’s not quite as highly regarded as “the future of the national team” as some thought.
Let’s face it, his club manager prefers a 36 year old at the moment.
What do you reckon that does for a player’s valuation?
Nothing great, I’d wager. Yet their fans seem to think they’ll still generate a monster transfer fee for this geezer, partly based on how credible he is outside of Scotland. If clubs are looking for mercenaries to send to a warzone, he’ll be quite a catch.
On top of that, they are squealing again about the SFA. Another conspiracy, wouldn’t you know? This time involving Clare Whyte the compliance officer, who one Sevco fan forum tried to trace via LinkedIn and other social media sites. They actually thought they’d found her.
Except she didn’t work at the SFA. And her name wasn’t Clare Whyte.
But it was Clare something and she had a vague connection to Celtic’s lawyers, and that was enough for them to slap her all over the forum for a day.
You couldn’t make this stuff up.
This was, after all, the club who’s Ibrox predecessor went under amidst much hilarity; one of the email pleas for cash they made carried a website address which actually took you to a page where you could hire out clowns.
They think we’ll forget about this stuff; never, ever, ever.
I was one of thousands of people who made pledges to that Fighting Fund under an assumed identity; I have little imagination for that stuff and found Jack D. Ripper quite an amusing nom de guerre … Henrik Larsony; Bill D Gallows and Hector Taxman were all used by others and are much better names.
The Banter Years … long may they reign.
Anyway, this whole Clare Whyte thing (no relation to Craig; I know that because they looked long and hard and found none. I would have laughed so hard had they stumbled over some vague connection buried in her family tree) this one is so OTT even Keith Jackson told them to stop embarrassing themselves this morning, which must have hurt a lot.
(And that’s not even including the spanking Keith will get from big daddy Traynor when he gets home from work tonight.)
This lot really are howling at the moon, and they are so out there and full on into it they can’t even see how crazy it all looks to the rest of us.