I hear Kris Boyd had a good night last night.
It must make a change for him.
I can’t write enough about how amateurish it makes Sky look to have him in their employ. I apologise for using his name in this piece, because this blog has long refused to do that when writing about him.
Instead, I just call him The Village Idiot.
The thing about that which you need to keep in mind is that he’s not the idiot in just any village. His is a special village. His is the village where they put all the people too stupid to qualify as a village idiot elsewhere.
Oddly enough, it’s those Peepul I want to write about here.
Because there’s a lot of gloating and laughing going on today that I find hard to credit. One of the things I refrain from doing on this blog is looking over the garden fence if there are issues right here at home which I’ve not tackled yet.
It wouldn’t dawn on me to want to write about them whilst we were still in the post-mortem phase from last night.
But I’m over last night, having already published 3500 words on the subject.
I will write a little more today on where I think we go from here, and why I’m optimistic but guardedly so, but I do feel as if I’ve said my piece on the people most responsible … and that’s why I can confidently move on and discuss things that are happening elsewhere.
There’s another reason why I can do that; our house is secure.
Our club is stable.
Celtic is in good shape where it’s always mattered most. Domestically.
Because without that foundation, without that strength, without that power and the trophies that come with it, we wouldn’t be talking about Champions League setbacks in the first place.
And to be looking over into your neighbours garden and laughing because the lawnmower is broken, whilst your own is a dishevelled mess, when your own house is a shit-hole, when the kids are out of control, the landlord is screaming on the phone and smoke is billowing out the kitchen window cause the person who was supposed to be watching the chip-pan is passed out, drunk, on cheap wine in the living room … that takes stupidity and lack of self-awareness to a whole other level.
That’s mindless. That’s beyond an embarrassment. That’s trolling nobody but yourself.
That’s not even fiddling whilst Rome burns, that’s spreading the gasoline on your own property as the flames creep down the street and telling the fire wardens you’ve got everything under control. Anybody on their forums or on social media laughing at us today should be getting hauled off their not-so-smart phones by those around them with a bit more sense.
We’re seven points clear of them in the league right now. Their club is in meltdown.
It goes into a European game tonight with the management team of Dumb & Dumber.
They are frantically scouring the earth for someone daft enough to take The Mooch’s job lest they have to give it those guys for real.
If Brendan Rodgers gets another Ibrox manager sacked he’ll not only get the match-ball but a star on their jersey for every one he has managed to dispatch. In that event, especially if it happens quickly, their club will enter a place from which it might not emerge for a long, long time if it ever does.
If they were smart Peepul at all, they would forego any notion of looking for issues at Celtic and start dealing with the ones on their own doorstep.
But then, if they were capable at all of sorting out their own mess we might not be so far in front of them in the first place.
Hell, if they were capable of that, they might not be following Sevco instead of Rangers.
They never will see it. They never will learn.
Over and over again, they put more energy into gloating over someone else’s misfortunes than they do into examining the reasons why the club they are busily laughing at is miles in front of theirs.
Miles, and continuing to motor into the distance.
These Peepul deserve everything they get.