On Sunday, I posted the latest piece in the Keith Jackass series, my own take on the warped standards of the Scottish press.
These articles are popular, and I understand why.
All are outlandish and utterly ridiculous.
None is too ridiculous that I don’t get at least some feedback from people who believe they are literal, and genuine, and products of the media.
Now, I strive to make these articles as barmy as I possibly can.
That some folk still think they are real is amazing to me, but I don’t hold it against them. Because, you see, no matter how daft and how out there I try to go, I’ve occasionally seen mainstream journalists write bizarre variations of what I had put up as a joke.
This week has thrown up a case in point.
Do your eyes roll when you read the words Charlie Nicholas?
I know mine do when I write them.
He is probably the worst of the ex-players writing in the media, and I don’t just limit that criticism to ex-Celtic players.
He is dreadful in ways that make Andy Walker, that make Barry Ferguson, that make Kris Boyd, look like titans of journalism.
The Keith Jackass piece I put up over the weekend lampooned the media’s defence of Morelos, by having our fictitious (any resemblance to persons actually employed in Scottish journalism is purely coincidental, yeah?) hack say Griffiths was going to be investigated for his gesture “insulting the deaf.”
And no, Nicholas doesn’t go the whole hog and attack it on those grounds … but he might as well have for all the sense he makes.
“Why did he put his fingers in his ears?” Nicholas asks, a question that surely needs no answer. It is a riposte to Griffiths’ critics, including him. “It is not about a war or creating a so-called agenda. It is about getting himself right as a person – and if he does that, he can become the player he once was. His celebration really worried me and saddened me.”
If that’s the kind of thing that “worries and saddens” Nicholas, you wonder how he’s managed to get through life, as such a sensitive soul.
The plain fact is that he’s simply stirring the soup here and having a go at Griffiths just for the sake of it, as he did with Edouard when he complained about his own way of celebrating.
Nicholas is a bitter, spiteful man.
If he didn’t have a reason to snark at Celtic somehow he’d have very little to say, and an emptier life.
I cannot believe his constant stream of negativity. He harbours a deep dislike of our club, for reasons I can’t even begin to understand as we’ve given him two spells in our famous hooped shirt. Yet poison continues to seep into everything he writes about us.
He has proved here that he’s beyond parody. Because if I had written his words in the Keith Jackass piece it would have lent it an even more surreal edge, and nobody would have believed I didn’t make them up off the top of my head.