For Celtic fans, the cup final will not just be a trophy, it will smash the Lies to smithereens.

The Record ran a story this morning on what might be the most tantalising December we’ve faced in a while. With Celtic closing in on a historical milestone, we stand on the cusp of dismantling the Ibrox club’s self-proclaimed “most successful club in the world” myth—an assertion they’ve made with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, etched into their stadium walls and training grounds like some grand decree.

The club and its supporters cling to this notion, yet everyone in Scottish football circles knows it’s a hollow boast. It’s a narrative the fan sites have dissected endlessly, long before the Record cottoned on, even though they’re now calling it an “86-year-old record”—a bizarre stretch, considering that record went to the grave along with Rangers in 2012.

We’re about to set the record straight and consign that falsehood to history. In fact, this should have been sorted long ago. The titles and trophies amassed during the EBT years were tainted, and stripping them would have put us ahead years ago. Yet, thanks to Lord Nimmo Smith’s baffling judgment, they got to keep them. “No sporting advantage,” they claimed, as if that’s not exactly why they harp on about financial disparity every time we outclass them—because apparently, no sporting advantage comes from having a mountain of cash.

You’d struggle to find a more ludicrous excuse in sports. The insistence that a League Cup win or even the total trophy count would make us “the world’s most successful club” doesn’t thrill me personally. You only have to look at Real Madrid’s trophy cabinet to know that, by any meaningful measure, that’s a much taller claim than a Scottish team is justified in making. But there is value in toppling this myth, burying it six feet under alongside the club that created it. And while I’m not looking for the club to make a fuss, I do think it’s important we mark this moment.

For one thing, it’s undeniably going to be a marketing coup. Celtic will rightly claim the “most successful” title, and the financial rewards will follow. Merchandise sales are going to soar, and they’ll be singing about this in pubs for years. Meanwhile, the other side will be left wallowing in bitterness. After all, for all their bluster we’re poised to go ahead. They’ll be forever trailing in our wake, trying to catch up while holding onto scraps of the past.

But here’s the key point: what we’re celebrating isn’t the simple accumulation of trophies. It’s the end of a lie that’s been shamelessly peddled for over a decade.

When the Ibrox club claims the history of Rangers, they’re only interested in the silverware and records—the supposed “most successful” tag that they believe validates them. To us, the history of Celtic means far more than just trophies; it’s about the values, the fans, the legacy. But to them, it’s all about the shiny metal and the bragging rights. That’s why they fought so fiercely to claim the “most successful” title when they went into administration in 2012, and it’s why the newco clings so desperately to the Rangers name.

So, the most satisfying victory will come not from simply surpassing their claimed trophy count but from rendering their identity—and this myth they hold so dear—utterly meaningless. In the years since 2012, we’ve consistently said that it doesn’t add up, and the very existence of that club is built on a shaky foundation. Every die-hard Celtic fan who’s refused to go along with the Survival Lie will feel vindicated. For us, this is a symbolic triumph.

The other side embraced the lie, and in doing so, they took on all the baggage that came with it. They didn’t start fresh or forge a new path; instead, they inherited the bigotry, the entitlement, the delusional superiority complex.

As I wrote in my “Fear and Loathing” piece quoting T.S. Eliot, “the end is in the beginning.” By assuming the identity of Rangers, they shackled themselves to the same twisted mentality and the same endless list of problems.

This wasn’t inevitable.

If they had accepted their new status and charted a different course, they might have built a new, healthier culture. But they chose otherwise, and now they’re left with an impoverished husk, a club stuck in the past and unable to see beyond it.

In that time, they’ve added a meagre three trophies to their claimed tally. Even if they’d admitted their true start date, they’d barely have done better than this, but they wouldn’t be living with the ghost of their old self constantly whispering. Instead, they’re haunted by the fear that the last twelve years have been for nothing—that this was all a colossal waste of time and that the chance to start anew was squandered.

And we’re about to hammer the final nail in that coffin.

Because when the media blathers on about “86-year-old records” and we pass their trophy count, all of it will become irrelevant. Whether they want to admit that 2012 was the year they started over or not won’t matter. Not only will we have equalled their “55 titles” this season, but we’ll have moved ahead in overall trophies, securing our place at the top and depriving them of their last, desperate claim to relevance.

The fallout from this will be glorious to watch.

Celtic will have the bragging rights, the marketing boost, and a jubilant fanbase revelling in this sweet, lasting revenge. We’ll look back on this moment as one of the most satisfying victories in modern Scottish football history—not just because of the trophies but because of the truth we’ve exposed and the lies we’ve dismantled.

For every Celtic supporter who has held out against the Survival and Victim Lies, who has refused to pretend that the past decade was anything other than a circus, this will be a moment to cherish.

This will be our victory—a victory over hubris, over deceit, and over the delusions that have propped up the Ibrox club’s identity. It’s a reckoning that has been long overdue, and now, as we stand on the brink of it, it’s hard not to feel a thrill of anticipation.

Sweet, lasting revenge indeed.