Hearts are the warning to a Celtic board that thinks and acts complacently.

Ohhh, Hearts. What happened to you?

Actually, I know exactly what happened. You lost your captain, you lost your manager, and while I would normally have a wee bit of sympathy for a Scottish club getting absolutely battered in Europe, today I am going to be brutally honest with you.

I am a Celtic supporter, and I sat watching Hearts get pumped 6-1 by Benfica with a rather enormous smile on my face. There. I have said it. The Ginger Witch has spoken.

Before anybody starts screaming that I should support every Scottish club in Europe, let me make something very clear: I support Celtic first. Always.

When I look at what has happened to Hearts after the season they had, I cannot help thinking there is something deliciously ironic about it.

They came so bloody close to winning the Scottish Premiership last season.

They were at the top, they had confidence, Lawrence Shankland was scoring goals, Derek McInnes was in the dugout and there was genuine belief around Tynecastle that they could break Celtic’s dominance.

Then the whole bloody thing disappeared.

Celtic came roaring back, we won the league and Hearts finished second. Almost immediately afterwards, some of the people who had helped make them so dangerous began looking elsewhere.

Shankland left. McInnes left.

And where did they go? Across the city to the Ibrox club, the very place whose supporters had spent months watching Hearts rise while their own side stumbled around. I am sorry, but there is something wonderfully Celtic about watching the aftermath.

Because what did I say? Be careful what you wish for.

You can have a fantastic season, get within touching distance of Celtic and dream about making history, but Scottish football has a funny wee habit of reminding you that building something is one thing and keeping it together is something else entirely.

Hearts are discovering that lesson rather brutally.

Last night, at the Estádio da Luz, Benfica did not simply beat Hearts. They demolished them. Six goals went past them, and although Hearts found a consolation, there was never any serious doubt about the direction of the match. Benfica tore them apart and inflicted one of the heaviest European defeats Hearts have ever suffered.

Benfica 6. Hearts 1.

That was not merely a defeat. It was a bloody statement.

Hearts supporters will quite reasonably say that Benfica are Benfica, and of course they are right. Nobody expected Hearts to walk into Lisbon and stroll away with an easy win. But this is not simply about one game.

That is what interests me.

When I look at Hearts now, I see a club which has gone from believing it could challenge Celtic for the Scottish title to looking as though somebody has pulled the carpet from underneath it.

The manager is gone, the captain is gone, much of the confidence appears to have gone with them, and now their European campaign is hanging by a thread after a 6-1 humiliation.

That is football. Sometimes it has a wicked sense of humour. But this is where my Celtic heart starts beating faster, because while Hearts are dealing with their own bloody mess, Celtic should be looking forward.

I do not want Celtic merely surviving. I do not want Celtic scraping titles, and I do not want another season in which we sit wondering what the board is doing while it waits until the final bloody days of the transfer window before deciding that perhaps the football team actually requires footballers.

I want something different. I want power. I want Celtic to become absolutely bloody terrifying. I want Martin O’Neill to have a squad capable of dominating domestically. I want Celtic Park rocking. I want teams arriving at Paradise already worrying about how many they might concede, and I want Celtic back where we belong in Europe — not simply participating, but making noise.

Because if Hearts have taught us anything, it is that you cannot stand still. The moment you believe you have arrived, somebody else is already coming.

Celtic cannot afford complacency for one bloody second. The title is ours again. The Scottish Cup is ours. Five in a row is ours. Now we go again.

I want Celtic to build on that success rather than admire it. I want every weakness strengthened and every obvious problem dealt with before it becomes another crisis.

I want hungry players, committed players and footballers who understand what the shirt means. I do not want men who look at Celtic merely as a convenient stepping stone before disappearing south at the first opportunity.

I want players who walk into Paradise and think: “This is my fucking club.” I want their hearts to swell with pride walking out the tunnel. That is what I want.

Watching Hearts collapse does not make me want Celtic to become comfortable. Quite the opposite. It makes me want Celtic to become stronger. Much stronger.

Perhaps that is the real lesson underneath this whole glorious wee footballing drama.

Hearts had a magnificent opportunity. They came within touching distance of the title, but then the manager walked away, the captain departed, the rebuilding started and suddenly the team which looked like Celtic’s biggest domestic challenger is staring at a European humiliation. Celtic has the opportunity to learn from that.

Do not allow success to make us lazy. Do not let five in a row create complacency. Do not allow the Celtic board to convince itself that the job is finished. It is not.

The job has only bloody started.

I do not want Celtic merely to be better than Hearts. I do not want Celtic merely to be better than the Ibrox club. I want Celtic to become a force which Scottish football cannot overcome and European football cannot laugh at.

That means building when you are already winning. It means refusing to wait for rivals to catch up before you react. It means strengthening from a position of power instead of repairing damage after the fact.

That is what proper clubs do.

And here comes my Ginger Witch spell.

I am lighting the imaginary Celtic candle, throwing a wee pinch of Celtic Park dust into the cauldron and stirring it clockwise three times. Let Celtic grow. Let Celtic strengthen and rise. Let every new signing bring hunger and let every player wearing that famous green and white shirt understand the responsibility.

Let Paradise become terrifying again. Let Celtic Park roar and let the Hoops become stronger with every bloody week.

If Hearts want to rebuild, fine. Let them. If the Ibrox club wants to rebuild across the city, fine. Let it. We’ll be ready as long as Celtic do not go backwards. We look forward, we build, we strengthen and we grow and let the rest worry about themselves.

Because I do not want another season in which Celtic are simply champions.

I want Celtic to be unstoppable.

I will admit that last night, sitting watching Hearts being dismantled by Benfica, I enjoyed myself. I am a Celtic supporter. I am allowed a wee bit of wickedness, a laugh and the occasional opportunity to look across Scottish football and say: aye, I told you.

But the laughing cannot be the whole story. Because while everyone else worries about rebuilding themselves, Celtic has an opportunity to increase the gap. We need to become more powerful, more ruthless, more ambitious and, above all, more Celtic.

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