Celtic is not, and never has been, a “club open to all.”

Days like yesterday are good days for me.

I knew when I got up and posted the Rod Stewart piece that I was going to get stick for it. I know I’ll get stick for this one too. But days like that are good days.

Days when I put something up knowing it’ll cause me problems—those are the days I know I haven’t dumbed it down. I haven’t held back. I haven’t compromised my own integrity or softened my views to suit anyone else’s.

Long ago, when I started doing this, I made an agreement with myself: I would never pretend to know more than I do, never pretend to be more than I am.

But just as importantly, I would never pretend not to know something just because it makes people uncomfortable to hear it said out loud.

Last night on the podcast we talked about the Rod Stewart thing.

And I’m not taking back a single word I wrote or said.

That man disgraces our shirt and our club by espousing the view that Britain should “give Nigel Farage a chance.”

I don’t think anyone with Rod Stewart’s profile—who uses our club’s name the way he does, and who regularly sits beside the directors as a guest of the club—should be endorsing a racist anti-immigrant politician to be Prime Minister. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let him back in the building.

I’m sorry if that doesn’t sit right with some of you.

But it’s only by saying things I know won’t sit right with some of you—and still writing them, still publishing them, day after day—that I know I’m staying honest. If I can do that, I know I’m not tailoring articles to avoid offence. I’m not pulling punches. I’m not holding back.

At the risk of upsetting a few more folk, let me repeat what I said on the podcast last night: to the Rod Stewart Fan Club, there is nothing I can say that will make you less inclined to stand by your man. And the thing is, I don’t think there’s anything he could say or do that would change your minds either.

I saw Dave Chappelle once talking about R. Kelly—and about R. Kelly fans. People who feel conflicted about still listening to his music.

Chappelle had a suggestion for anyone who couldn’t quite understand how anyone could still be an R Kelly fan with some of those allegations hanging over his head: imagine the infamous video—R. Kelly urinating on a 15-year-old girl—playing with I Believe I Can Fly laid over it.

That was a brutal, brilliant way of cutting to the core of a complex question: can you appreciate the art while despising the artist? The answer’s always been yes.

And in fact, the truth is, it’s more complicated even than that.

Let me give you an example.

The word sadism originates from a single individual—Donatien Alphonse François de Sade, better known as the Marquis de Sade.

A French aristocrat, philosopher, and author, he spent much of his life in prison for a variety of appalling acts. He also wrote some of the most depraved literature of his—or any—century.

Two of his books, 120 Days of Sodom and Justine, or the Misfortunes of Virtue, are still selling great guns today. His works remain bestsellers. And they remain among the most shocking things ever written.

Written, it should be said, by a thoroughly depraved man.

So, in his case, you can despise the art and despise the artist… while still recognising that, in a technical sense, those works have artistic merit.

I’ve never understood the argument about whether you can separate the artist from the art.

You have to be able to separate the artist from the art.

You have to accept that terrible people can produce beautiful, incredible things—and that those things are no less worthy of appreciation because of the sins of their creator. A lot of the most famous people in the world, behind some of its greatest works of art, were not very nice people.

To the people who were offended yesterday, here’s my advice: stop taking things so personally, and grow up a bit. Put your dummies back in and calm the hell down.

Nobody’s telling you that you’re a bad person because you’re a Rod Stewart fan. Nobody’s saying you don’t have the right to listen to whatever you like or enjoy it as much as you want.

My criticism of him is not a criticism of you—and you really need to stop acting like it is.

I think he should have kept his stupid mouth shut.

I think someone with his profile—someone who’s wrapped so much of their public identity around this club—has a responsibility to behave like a proper ambassador.

If he wants to endorse Nigel Farage, then he should keep that shit to himself, lest people who don’t know any better think that it reflects on us.

Farage is not a buffoon. Farage is a dangerous individual with a dangerous policy platform. And he’s surrounded by even more dangerous people with ideas even more unhinged than his own. For any public-facing person—who isn’t already a certifiable lunatic—to give that man more credibility than the media already hands him is reckless, irresponsible and utterly shameful.

Farage has spent his entire political life spouting anti-immigrant poison. I have no difficulty calling him a racist. I have no difficulty calling him a bigot. He is all of those things and more—and he has spent his entire career surrounded by racists and bigots just like him.

No-one who preaches about Celtic and Celtic values can endorse that man and still claim to respect—far less represent—what this club stands for.

Because Farage is the antithesis of everything Celtic was founded to be.

But this article isn’t about Farage. And it’s not about Rod Stewart either. It’s not even about whether you can appreciate the art without appreciating the artist.

This is about something else entirely. Something I never thought I’d have to write about—because, frankly, I thought it was so obvious it didn’t need to be said. I assumed—and here, I lose points for naïveté—that this was something everyone just understood. But apparently not.

Because over and over again yesterday—sometimes politely, sometimes aggressively—I was told that Stewart’s opinions, as rancid as that endorsement is, still allow him to represent as a Celtic fan because this is a club “open to all.”

You know something? That is a pile of steaming bullshit.

It absolutely astounds me that anyone believes that. Or can believe that. Because I thought it was blatantly obvious that this is not a club open to all. It never has been. It never will be. I don’t know anyone who genuinely believes otherwise.

But apparently, you’re out there. Apparently, you exist. And I am honestly amazed by that. And because so many of you were in a rush to tell me that’s how you feel—then I guess this one’s for you.

Celtic is a broad church.

That means we can encompass a wide range of opinion.

We tolerate and accept many different viewpoints. We can fit a lot under this roof—because it’s a roof built on tolerance and respect for other people and their beliefs.

But let me explain to you where we get off the bus.

There is a line. And that line is intolerance itself.

The deal-breaker is hatred. The welcome mat stops at support for what is evil and intrinsically wrong. Those things are not welcome under our roof.

This roof shelters what, in political terms, would be called a safe space—a place where people can exchange differing views respectfully and securely.

Hatred has no place under that roof. Hatred does not allow respectful debate.

When I listen to people on the far right, shouting their vicious, ignorant slogans, it’s not just that I personally have nothing in common with them. It’s not even that this club—founded by immigrants, for charitable purpose—has nothing in common with them. I honestly don’t see how the broad, vast sweep of the human family has anything in common with them either.

And I’m afraid, if you flinch at the sound of “up to our knees in Fenian blood” but then go onto Facebook and post vile garbage about people “coming over on boats” you need to take a breath, take a minute, and sort your shit out.

Brother. Sister. Once upon a time, that was us.

That was the people who founded this club you claim to follow. Economic migrants. Over here to “steal the jobs” of good Scottish workers. Over here to spread the disease of Papal doctrine. Unclean bogtrotters. We were on the same level as the dogs. “No Blacks, No Dogs, No Irish”—that was written on signs hung in windows across Glasgow and the West of Scotland.

Let me say it again: the guys on those boats? That was us, once.

And if that’s somehow confusing for you, then get your head out of your arse and start thinking—instead of letting Facebook algorithms enslave your mind.

This isn’t some “woke lefty blogger” in the 21st century trying to impose his politics onto Celtic as some kind of personal crusade. These are facts.

This is who we are.

This is what Celtic is. These are the stones the club was built on. It’s our foundation story. It’s not myth. It’s not some politically expedient fairy tale.

If you’re a Celtic fan, this is where you come from.

And once you understand that—really understand it—once you realise what that means, how can you possibly believe this is a club “open to all”?

How can you believe it ever was?

It’s a welcoming message, yes—but it’s not meant to be taken literally. It means we take in all comers. But it doesn’t mean you get to stay.

Because under this roof, we’ve always been choosy. And rightly so.

It matters who lives under this roof. It matters who shares this space.

If you’re telling me the immigrant has to share it with some jackbooted thug, you’re wrong. And I don’t believe this club would ever permit that.

If you truly think this is a club open to all, picture this: you turn up for the first home game of the season, and Tommy Robinson—or one of his little foot soldiers—is in the seat next to you.

Are you OK with that?

If he spends the game booing our Black players, are you still sitting there saying, “Ah well, broad church, he’s got the same right to be here as the rest of us”?

Because that’s the logic of your position.

And I don’t believe that.

And what’s more—I don’t believe you really believe it either.

There are ideas that are too dangerous to be merely stupid.

And there are others that are too stupid to be truly dangerous.

But then there are ideas that fall in the middle—both dangerous and stupid—and those are the worst of all. I genuinely believe this is one of those.

And don’t worry—I’m well aware that the extreme left, the mad fringe left, can weaponise this idea just as much as the crazies on the right.

We should always be watchful for that.

We should always be willing to call it out.

On 7 October, one of the most shameful moments in the recent history of our club took place: a PFLP banner was unveiled in a section of our ground.

It should never have happened. And it must never be allowed to happen again—not without serious consequences for everyone involved.

Because this is not a club open to all—and God forbid that we ever become one.

We are a club with standards. We are a club with values.

We were founded on those values.

And being part of this family means understanding and respecting that fact.

That’s why extremism—of any shade or stripe—has no place in the stands at Celtic Park, and why, in spite of that welcoming slogan, it will never be allowed to have a home there.