26th of foot

'from the first whistle to the last' ? Lat's go back to last Sunday. The two top teams in Scotland are battling for top spot, the Gang Hut favourites are away at Livingston, the follow followers of Beelzebub are at home to Acas. An emotional roller coaster is perched upon the highest peak, poised to sweep onward. The first whistle blew at 11.30 hrs, Sportsound began with Sellik team news. The last whistle blew at 15.00 hrs, just as Rangers were kicking-off. Sportsound had ended, Geoff Webster took over to talk rugby, golf, athletics, .... etc. Of course, Rob McLean was sat on the naughty step watching RTV and provided a couple of thirty second reports at half-time and full-time. It had been drastic on plastic, Sellik were reduced to ten men after half-an-hour, Ryan Christie red carded for a straight leg, flat footed lunge. The immediate reaction was, "that was uncharacteristic of Ryan". At half-time, Big Dick offered, "I'm struggling to think of a red card during his eighteen months with Aberdeen"? Liam McLeod whispered, "sent off at Ibrox". By the last whistle at three O'Clock, we found out Ryan has been red carded on four occasions, but it remains, "uncharacteristic". Four red cards is the same as Morelos, no one in the gang hut even began to square that circle. What was uncharacteristic, was the Gang Hut's favoured team conceding two goals, without reply. James McFadden thought the game was perfect for Leigh Griffiths. An uncharacteristic silence ensued. The accepted PQ euphemism on Griffiths these days is, "he's injured"! It would appear PQ's claim of, 'from the first whistle to the last' is really, 'from the first DOG whistle to the last'. I wonder if the denizens of the Gang Hut can hear the drums from Ibrox as we celebrate the Seven Princes from Hell? I suspect they do, because the first Sports Desk of Monday morning was NOT about change at the top. No, it was headlined by Hearts will have four players, Naismith, Soutar, Harring, and Walker, all back from injury to face Rangers at Tynecastle. Two weeks to go, but that was us telt! Monday night's Sportsound proclaimed Rangers had gone top of the Premiership for the first time, quickly rectified by Neil McCann; reminding them of Rangers occupying first during last season's winter break. There was a race to further inform, Rangers had lost the first match after the break at Rugby Park and Sellik's victory had put them back on top. Ah mean, Peter can only do so much. The narrative will be back under firm control when Tom English returns from the Rugby world cup, and Chris was at the end of a fortnight in Dofa for the Athletics world championships. Peter did ensure that Referee, Kevin Clancy did not officiate at any Scottish game last week. Kevin failed to award Sellik two penalties against Hibs at Easter Road; at least the Gang Hut knew NOT to mention that, or discuss it. Remember, from the first whistle until the last.

What's the price of a pie? I suspect somewhere around £3? Bump up the price of a bovril and pie, have the strap line, 'buy a bovril and pie - get free wifi'. Antediluvians like myself are happy to sit with alcan foil on our nappers.

Twenty-five years ago, most juicy Glasgow gossip was published in the Herald, under the auspices of, Tom Shields Diary'. Those days, Tom Shields himself was still playing with a straight bat. His second decade, he became both a professional Yahoo and Catalan. When he left the Herald, he spent five years as a Sellik View columnist, under the moniker, "Tim Shields Diary'. Anyways, it's January and he has a lengthy piece on the actions of a young cub reporter at BBC Scotland. This is when Beeb Scotland was based at Hamilton Drive in Glasgow's west end. There were a dozen restaurants in and around Great Western Road, all selling Table D'hote menus at a penny under the Beeb's expenses limit. The Beeb Scotland football department had all gone out for Christmas lunch in late December in one of the aforementioned brasseries. Rob McLean had been charged with collecting the weekly fivers from thirty-odd colleagues and was as such, responsible for settling the bill after a particular boozy, several hour affair. Shields lived in Hillhead and the restaurant proprietor let him know the details, particularly the bit where he was owed well over a grand. According to the Diary, McLean was back in, begging to be allowed to pay the bill over a period of several weeks. To think, Rob was adept at handing out sneering penny lectures to Rangers supporters on financial integrity?

I await Jum Spence utilising the auspices of BBC Scotland to demand 'Contrition' from the Invernesians.

I attended the European Cup Winners Cup match between Rangers and Young Boys in August'77 at Ibrox. I remember John Greig scored our goal in a one-nil victory and the majority chat centered around that day's death of Elvis. I'll take the same result tonight, Apparently, Elvis expired sitting on the porcelain holding a fried peanut butter and banana sandwich.

Reference Ewan Murray. I first came across Ewan Murray amid the early Spring dappled sunshine of Avenida da Liberdade, Lisbon. It was the quarter-final of the UEFA Cup against the Sporting Club de Portugal, anxious anticipation was in the air. A group of half-a-dozen had gone over on a five day trip, Monday to Friday, took in the vineyards and the Fado. It was the day before the game and we sat in a street-side cafe, enjoying the coffee and the local custard tarts. An ambiance of frivolity darkened as two chaps in matching chinos, pastel shaded shirts, and careless pullovers around shoulders entered and sat opposite. It was Spiers and his then Catamite, Ewan Murray. They talked golf grips, demonstratively so; then inquired if we could recommend a restaurant? My mate, Colin asked if they enjoyed chocolate? He took their nonplussed look as an affirmative, and offered, "you can eat each other". We left. True story.

Big Dick's state of Tumescence. France is not far away, but it is far enough to find yourself behind the curve. Last weekend's Scottish football arrived courtesy of an internet link. I hesitated to muse aloud on PQ's workings, I mean I do not have a full picture. It's more a snatch of commentary, pieces of opinion, and it can arrive in burst transmission. However, I rationalised it, it is exactly the service BBC Scotland provides to us, the Rangers support. Their latest strap line, "from the first whistle until the last" means jack-shit to the Bears, we get a different Bozo every other week sitting on the naughty step, watching RTV. PQ prefer to call it, "being right across events at Ibrox? Thus, broadcasting from where the sunshine spends the winter, Radio Qui Donne un Baiser Volant dit .......................................... The Dandies begin their footballing week on the plastic at Livi', Big Dick knows the next three games will go a long way to defining his favourites' season. He is bullish and is encouraged when Aberdeen score an early scrappy goal. Livi' create several opportunities to at least equalise, but squander everyone. Injury time sees a penalty award to the Dons No questions, Cosgrove scythed down, get's up, and dispatches the spot kick. A triumphalist Big Dick echoes Derek's post match comments, "Aberdeen are finding new ways to win". Big Dick is standing free, he is proud and confident, swollen with pride. No demand to view the Spaghettiad happenings on Sportscene. The next day, Rangers are visitors to McDairmid Park, and Big Dick's rush of blood has gone to his head. Inspired by a goalless first half, Big Dick voices the opinion that Saints have enjoyed the better of the limited chances. St Johnstone's firm grip on the match was akin to Big Dick's grip on his dismembered member, "perhaps Rangers exertions against Feyenoord are having an effect"? Handing back to the commentary team at the beginning of the second half, Big Dick posed the question, "Can Rangers find an answer in the second half"? Of course, Rangers ran in four goals, Alfredo providing a part of the answer inside the opening minute of the second forty-five. There were two contentious decisions, a clear hand ball by a Saints defender inside his penalty box, a penalty not awarded. The other was Defoe's second and Rangers fourth goal, he was offside, not flagged. Big Dick inflated sense of his own importance took over, it was like watching Morelos of last season. Big Dick imbued with the energy of a new born giraffe, decided to become a thruster. He rhymed off a well rehearsed speech about refereeing decisions familiar to smaller clubs when playing Rangers. He noted Saints were denied a clear goal, he saw the ball cross the line He had no doubts, and, "tonight's Sportscene will prove it". Big Dick failed to mention the Saints hand ball, but threw in Defoe being offside; it will add to the home side's sense of legitimate grievance. Sportscene arrived. It showed Cosgrove was outside the Livi' box, and it was his foot that tangled with the Livi' defender, verdict no penalty. Further, all three Amigos congratulated the Referee and Linesman for getting the goal line clearance by Steve Davis absolutely correct. Defoe was offside, but an injury time fourth goal had no effect on the result. The Rangers penalty claim was shown, but not examined. See Big Dick, what a prick? Big Dick fails to raise a Semi. We move to midweek, it's Scottish League Cup quarter-final night. Aberdeen are at Tynecastle and Rangers are skating on Livi's plastic. Big Dick is cock-a-hoop, Aberdeen are the beneficiaries of two penalties, Cosgrove, the goal machine buries both. Rangers are the beneficiary of an early deflected goal by Kamara. Livi' shell the ball into the Rangers box from all angles and we live on our nerves. Joe Aribo is elbowed and receives 20 stitches to his head. We have had several chances to tie up the tie, but we manage to squander all. Going into the final moments, PQ are hopeful of a deserved Livi' leveler, "Livingston are asking all the right questions of Rangers soft central defence". Big Dick's calm tones reflect smooth waters ebbing at Tynie, then Craig Halkett(former Rangers youth player) equalises and takes the tie to penalties. Rangers qualifying for the semi-finals is an after thought; but no worries, the goal machine will see the Dandies into the last four. Cosgrove skys the Reds first post match penalty, two other Dons players copy that, and Big Dick is clawing for the Viagra. It sounded as if Big Dick was having a hard time, keeping his pecker up. It was despondent Big Dick desperately clutching Wullie(Miller) for comfort. Of course, Big Dick could take comfort in that H-u-n, Joe Aribo with twenty stitches in a head wound and no red card. I don't know if Big Dick allows Rangers a sense of grievance? Flacid Big Dick. The footballing week culminated at Ibrox. An early evening ferry crossing and several hour drive was my foreplay to sitting erect awaiting kick-off. PQ had Rob McLean on the naughty step, Big Dick was in the darkened room with a tumescent revolver. Rangers fire was quick, constant, and accurate. Aberdeen, Scotland's second best team fired blanks. Rob had no stimulation for Big Dick, his final contribution was, "Defoe makes it five, Aberdeen are looking for an offside". Being raised to absolutely hate Rangers appears to lead to erectile dysfunction, because Big Dick gave the result a few times but had no energy to discuss the result with an expectant Billy Dodds. Further, unlike the Scottish Cup quarter-final replay in late March, Big Dick did NOT call Derek McInnes for post match comments. A flacid Big Dick was left with the lame mantra, "Aberdeen were missing eight players through either injury or sickness". Still, the number of Dandies in the PQ Gang Hut, you can form a self help group. Indulge in several sessions of cross-hand boogie, it will get the blood flowing again. If more is needed, remember Chris McLaughlin is well regarded as, 'Head Bhoy'.

I know it was just a twenty minute cameo; however, I was thinking Edmundson's interventions and tackle on Aberdeen's number 10 in the last five minutes was almost Sammer-esque. I liked the way the Aberdeen midfielder stayed tackle for fully five minutes. Maybe a consideration for the role of front sweeper against Young Boys on Thursday?

Initially, on seeing yesterday's team, I thought there might be a lack of natural width. The first fifteen minutes seem to reinforce first thoughts, our right side had acres of space not being exploited. As the game progressed, both Tav' and Barisic pushed further forward, providing the desired angles. The second and third goals came from either flank. Talking of which, I noted after the second goal, a few dozen Dandies headed for the exits. After the third with forty-odd minutes left to play, several hundred queued to leave. The spirit broken? It seems to be heading that way, the other barometer of Rangers hatred, 'Pie and Bovril' has managed several pages on the game; normally, that would be thirty pages plus. Sound thrashings are beginning to condition the Sell Out Saturday brigade.

I have not made a contribution this season, I would be happy to preview Porto v Rangers?

Brutal, brutal, brutal.

Bully for DrStu'. This morning was a surprise, soft autumnal rain was falling on the hills of the Dordogne. It couldn't last, by afternoon the staccato beat of hard pitter-patter crackled the leaves. The Cafe Tabac had taken in it's tables and chairs, arm held bundles of baguettes from the Boulangerie were no longer pinned by brown paper, plastic bags were necessary, and flip-flops, shorts, and t-shirts confined to the back of the wardrobe until next May. A realisation that summer had drawn a last breath. Not for the truffle pigs, sniffing around ever-green oak trees is just beginning. Last year, a truffle sold in St Astier for £2,500. Those autumnal rains heighten expectations. A week past on Saturday, I heard BBC Radio Scotland whilst traveling to Ibrox for the Livi' game. PQ's finest snorter, DrStu' was in a state of excitement, his nose twitching in anticipation of black fungi. The two unsuspecting truffles were Kirsty Wark and Amy McDonald, guests on Off the Ball. The Scots songstress from Bishopbriggs has enjoyed a long term relationship with Scottish professional footballer, Richard Foster. He is unique in the number of occasions he has enjoyed double spells at clubs ie Aberdeen, Rangers, Ross County, ... etc. Recently, he was involved in a spat with Saints boss, Tommy Wright, which saw him return to Dingwall. DrStu' had his nose in the air throughout, I suspect Amy had been booked whilst hubby was still resident at McDairmid Park? There was a pungent opening, "do you want the story you have been spoon fed, or would you rather hear the real deal"? DrStu' stuck his nose up his arse as Amy told of training ground bust up that culminated in Tommy uttering, "fcuk off", and Richard did just so. Apparently, the club Directors and staff were firmly on Rickie's side. DrStu's nose enjoyed the aroma of his own bahookie, confirmed his preferred prejudice, and he decided to achieve revenge the only way he knows how. Unsuspecting Kirsty Wark was first, her Rangers supporting husband, Producer Alan Clements was ripe for betrayal. DrStu' told of visiting Clements man-cave in the Wark household in days past, Rangers share certificates were framed upon the wall. His punch line arrived, "of course these days, the frames are worth more than the shares". DrStu' roared with laughter, whereas Kirsty offered, "really, I never venture in there". DrStu's affirmation of Rangers are deid was follow followed by Rangers players and fans are thick bastards. Barry Ferguson enters Italian restaurant with retinue and decides to order for all, "we'll have the Pageone", the waiter retorts, "that's page one of the menu". Salivating at the rapier like wit being displayed, he thrusts a coup de grace, "looking at those tattoos on your arm Amy, what does FTP mean"? Both girls chorus, "too far". An insight into an everyday training ground conflict sees DrStu' resort to type. The careful hate is immediately abandoned for the comfort of 'yer deid', yer thick', and 'yer bigots'. DrStu' loves to pig out. Sadly, his Producer allows him such largess. The word is last year's truffle pig has lost it's mojo, being comforted by tons of acorns. Like Sunday's result, there's a new reality. DrStu prefers his nostrils stuck up his own Ronson, He won't smell next year's air dried ham.

I was reading through the Herald reader comments on the Thomas Cook story, pertaining to the Rangers Travel Club. Unrestricted glee seem to be the concensus, lots of drawing of similarities between company and club, Stephen King references on traveling Zombies, does Thomas Cook keep it's history, ............. etc. Meanwhile, fifteen hundred folks are out of a job and face horrible short/medium term futures. Not a single word of sympathy was expressed for those unfortunates.

BH was a most perceptive poster, miss him, miss Buster too but in a different way. If BH had a problem, it was not putting his oar in, so much as demanding the Trireme attain battle speed and bring the necessary violence to bear, even if the offender was a wandering pedalo. Reference Thomas Cook, the package deal is heading the same way as Rothesay Landladies.

I dare you? Michael Stewart is the one with 'Cnut' written on his forehead.

There is a huge advantage to staying for the part in the Dordogne, well other than the opportunities afforded by next door's truffle pig. I cannot hear Pacific Quay CSC whine and moan. Thus, good second half professional performance. The ball moved out to in a lot quicker. The controversy over the Saints goal/not goal will occupy the minds of Big Dick and Michael Stewart, burying our legitimate penalty claim. Another Ryan Jack masterclass and Defoe is the epitome of a professional football player.

No Pyro', no party! Looking at that photo, it should be : No Pyro', no prosthetics.

Good news, we will soon know the name of last evening's FARE representative?

I can positively identify the circled individual as a Hammerby fan.

These last five days, I have spent in a cottage on top a conical hill in the Dordogne. My local cafe tabac is a couple of K away, I watched their game against Rennes with half-a-dozen fairly disinterested locals. It's rugby country, although fishing and petanque run egg chasing close seconds. French TV quickly boiled into outrage at ra Sellik's tough style of play. The locals heard the banjo strings being strummed louder and joined in, they could not understand why a team with so many Frenchmen would resort to such ugly and thuggish football. No one at the bar thought Neil had a purdy mouth. Back to the butt'n'ben for the Rangers game, and continuing problems with connectivity. I saw the first 35 minutes, an emotional roller coaster of hitting the post with a penalty(again), then hitting the bar, and finally taking the lead with a worldly. Re-connection occurs several minutes into the second half, relief in that our lead remains in tack, but cannot hold on to possession. Screaming for Subs to maintain energy levels, demanding twenty yard runs to create angles for passes, and calling the Ref' everything. The only response was next door's truffle pig. Morelos and Ryan Jack were outstanding, the rest were merely very good. I note my Traiteur in St Astier was advertising breast of wood pigeon on black pudding in a red wine jus for today. I am in the mood to participate.

A disease that strips every sufferer of their dignity, the inevitable passing is a relief to family and friends. My thoughts are with Fernando's eight year old daughter, Isabella.

Appoint Michael Stewart as Manager, now!

"Zut alors", cried TinTin; those Belgians are from pot one, we are in the bam pot. The differential between Belgium and Scotland is worthy of Professor Calculus and his best effort. However, Tom English still believes Steve Clarke is the man. If you think that is far fetched, Billy Dodds has just uttered, "we need Scott McKenna back". Billy needs his sense of perspective back.

A whirling vortex of bilious blue blistering barnacles lifted the Karaboujan from Ostend harbour and passed her sturdy hull into the safe draught of the Hampden swirl. Tin Tin and faithful hound Snowy alighted on to the hallowed turf. Captain Haddock bellowed, "ten thousand thundering typhoons" . Thomson and Thompson chorused, "get going, we are all set". Through the floodlight glare, TinTin saw all in pastel shades and declared, "Snowy, it's plucky little Belgium against Scotland". Enough of the fantasy, let's endure the reality. This is going to be sore. Still, throughout, if it helps; let's remember Herge was a collaborator.

Scotland 2019! As seen with accompanying photo', you can talk about child rape inside Celtic's hospitality suites. Of course, Celtic the club and separate entity must be paid the necessary fee for the hire of said suite, and another fee for food and refreshments. The separate entity receives remuneration for a situation they in part created. Really, you could not make this up. Further, if you want to talk about child rape in the context of football, then you run the interference of Celtic hired agencies(Radio Clyde) or blank refusal to open the discussion to the Scottish public(BBC Scotland). How does one club effect so much control?