“Let’s all laugh at Ibrox!” Celtic fans have by far the best sense of humour.

When it comes to Celtic fans, you don’t need to invent much. Sometimes the humour writes itself, because Celtic supporters have that very specific Glasgow gift: brutal observation wrapped in a grin.

What makes it land is not just the punchline. It is the timing, the context, the sense that the joke has been brewing for years and finally finds its moment.

The Ginger Witch has to tell you this: Celtic fans are pure Scotland. And I should know, since Scotland, Glasgow and Celtic are amongst the great loves of my life, although not necessarily in that order!

Celtic fans are funny, friendly, energetic, open, warm, cheerful, honest and humble. Humour is in their blood. It flows through their veins.

More than that, Celtic fans are the embodiment of Glasgow banter. They possess that precious gift in their words, their behaviour and their actions. There’s a saying: “No Scotland, no party.” But I dare to suggest another one: “No Celtic fans, no fun and no honesty.”

I think that suits perfectly.

Wherever Celtic fans go abroad to support our team, other fans are impressed by how we celebrate our identity. That faithfulness. That sea of green and white scarves lifted in the air. That “You’ll Never Walk Alone” tune rising into the sky.

Oh man, the rest of the world loves us. It’s a pity more people don’t here at home, but we know that even a country as great as Scotland has its problem children to deal with.

And you know why the world thinks so highly of us?

Because we’re not pretending. We are pure, honest and friendly. We have that flair for turning something serious into something funny. Here’s another wee saying for you: Celtic fans, the best in the world.

Not an exaggeration.

Just a fact.

What I love about Celtic fans is that we always sum up Ibrox fans accurately and hilariously. Honestly, sometimes you want to pee yourself laughing.

After every game the Ibrox club loses, or every time they lose the chance to play for a title or a Scottish Cup, Celtic fans create memes and pictures about Ibrox tears. The nice version is: “We’re going to drink your tears and celebrate your sorrows.”

That is our humour.

Sharp, quick and absolutely merciless.

I have seen it time and again, especially when it comes to summing up the Ibrox club. Not with rage. Not with bitterness. But with that quiet, knowing humour that cuts deeper than any shout ever could.

James has been telling me about the liquidation parties. Not filled with hate, but full of fun and mockery. “Jelly and ice cream when Rangers die!”

That’s amazing to me. I wish I had been in Glasgow for a jelly and ice cream party! There is no hate in that. It is a kind of mockery, but what could be less hateful than a funeral where people eat children’s party food and laugh about it later?

He’s pointed out other things too, like how the Ibrox fans have become angrier, more paranoid and harder to understand as the years of suffering have piled up.

And what did Celtic fans do when we were in the same position?

James says fans went to games and sang “Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life.”

I cannot stop laughing thinking about it!

It’s mad and beautiful and hilarious.

During these dark years, the Ibrox fans continue to sing “Simply The Best,” which is funny in its own way, but even funnier when Celtic fans sing back at them, “You’re Simply Depressed.”

I’ve been searching for these stories all day from the archives people keep online. Like those moments when the Ibrox club celebrates meaningless results like a grand triumph. I’ve found loads of them, all hilarious, all brutally sarcastic, but all without hatred.

“Open-top bus booked for a 1-1 at home.”

Something ordinary becomes absurd, and in that absurdity lies the truth of it. That is where the laughter comes from. Not cruelty, but clarity.

Then there is the eternal summer optimism. Every season, like clockwork, the reset button is pressed across the city. New beginnings, new promises, new certainty that this time it will all be different.

Then, like something wafting in on the mist, they grab one positive and treat it like the greatest story ever told.

The mockery starts at once.

“Pre-season champions of Europe!”

Or that hilarious thing they do when the campaign has started and things are going badly: “Oh look, they’ve got an 85-minute league table! If only that’s how football actually worked, there’d be no stopping them!”

A new manager comes in, and within weeks they are talking about how his handful of results would have “had us clear by 10 points if…”

That word “if” does a lot of lifting, doesn’t it?

And Celtic fans are there to mock it all. You can imagine the replies to the “if,” can’t you? Like I said, some of it writes itself.

And why shouldn’t we slag them for that?

That kind of stupid stuff is begging to have the piss taken out of it.

It is playful, but it is also rooted in years of watching the same cycle spin round and round. There is wisdom in that humour, a recognition of patterns that only comes from living through them.

European nights bring their own kind of comedy too. Football can be cruel on that stage, and when things don’t go to plan, Celtic fans don’t always meet it head-on. Instead, we drift slightly to the side and look at it from an angle.

Here’s one internet meme I saw from earlier in their European campaign: “Frequent flyer miles champions, unbeaten in quick departures.”

It is ridiculous, and that is exactly why it works. It takes their disappointment and turns it into something almost poetic in its silliness.

Managers come and go, each one hailed as the answer, the saviour, the turning point. Once again, Celtic supporters do not need long speeches to respond. Just a quiet, almost prophetic line.

“The chosen one … until the next one.”

Usually around October.

Then there is the financial talk. The numbers, the explanations, the complicated language that tries to make everything sound stable and controlled. I listen to it, and I know Celtic fans are listening too, but not in the way people might think.

“I’ve got a calculator and a headache, and it still doesn’t add up.”

That is it.

Grounded.

Human.

It brings everything back down to earth.

When the gap grows, when the distance becomes undeniable, you can almost see the joke forming.

“You’ll need binoculars to see us from there.”

Or another favourite of mine: “I thought they were ‘coming’? Any sign of them yet?”

Even controversy, even those moments when decisions cause uproar, Celtic fans have a way of stretching it beyond reason, turning their outrage into something almost cosmic.

The reason I’m even doing this piece is that I have been laughing all week at what James calls “the great conspiracy of the Giant Fenian Shoe,” this idea that the footage of Maeda’s offside goal has been doctored to increase the size of Alistair Johnston’s boot.

The mock image doing the rounds of Johnston’s foot swollen to gigantic size is the funniest thing I’ve seen this year.

And that did not originate with a Sevco fan trying to make a point. It came from Celtic fans mocking the whole idea. Which is why it was brilliant. It leans into the absurdity and then says, “yeah, this is how stupid you are.”

There is something beautifully calm about that. There is no need to argue with these people. Just hold up a mirror and let the madness suggest itself.

They are forever going on about the “summer rebuild” as well. Does it even count as a summer rebuild when it drags into January and then into the following summer?

That word seems to echo endlessly, season after season.

At some point, it stops being a rebuild, and Celtic fans know it.

“It’s not a rebuild anymore, it’s a renovation project with no fixed end date.”

When I step back and look at it all, what strikes me most is not just that Celtic fans are funny. It is how they are funny.

There is intelligence in it. Timing. Instinct. A deep-rooted understanding of football, rivalry and human nature itself.

This is laughter that comes from confidence, from knowing exactly who you are and where you stand. It does not shout to be heard.

It does not mock our rivals for what they are. That would be bigotry. It mocks them for what they say, what they do and what they believe.

And that’s the sharpest form of attack there is.

That is something special. Because in the end, Celtic humour is not just about getting a laugh. It is about seeing clearly and pointing out those who don’t.

It is about laughing at delusion, paranoia and a club whose supporters take themselves far too seriously.

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