Well, he was there on TV yesterday again, as Sky ditched the idea of having impartial professionals in their studio and opted instead for the clown act. In the aftermath of the Celtic game he looked like someone had slapped him.
In the aftermath of the one at Ibrox he was back to his preening, arrogant worst, bumping his gums and trying to stir the soup.
“(Sevco) ain’t going to go away and they will challenge right to the end for this league title,” he said. The press has interpreted that as a warning to us. Funny that they weren’t so quick to interpret other of his comments in the last week.
Regardless, whatever this muppet says is of no consequence whatsoever.
He can “warn” all he likes and posture and preen for the cameras as much as he wants.
He can fan the flames. He can call for physical attacks on our captain if that’s what tickles his fancy; from now on all of us should consider his rantings to be the squealing of a rat caught in a trap.
The simple fact is that this eejit can rally the goons all he pleases; it won’t make a blind bit of difference to the outcome of this title race. He can cheer up their rabid fans by backing the team he loves but it doesn’t put points on the board.
Who cares if they “go away” or not?
They can stay as they stand – in second place – trying desperately to cling onto our coat tails until the cows come home.
When this season ends, they can be right there, where they are right now, and I don’t care if they are frantically clinging on until the last minute of the last game … not that I expect them to be.
This cretin can’t change anything. All he can do is flap his trap from the sidelines, growing increasingly desperate and frantic and furious. And eventually – because it was inevitable last time and is equally so now – he will say something utterly outrageous and find himself enmeshed in a new controversy.
Because he’s just like the fat blonde worm clutching to the door of Number 10; he cannot help himself.
But he can’t help his team either. And that’s what matters.