Rod Hull & Emu v Rod McKenzie

In one of the preceding photographs is an individual with a penchant for the comedy of the absurd; in the other is the late Rod Hull & Emu. The inclusion of a glove puppet masquerading as a bird was no accident. It is an apposite metaphor for the curious case of Rangers 2012, the Club with a capital C, whom our learned friend would have us believe is Rangers 1872 or Rangers 1899 as per its date of incorporation.

If I were to rank all three characters in terms of their credibility, I would plump for Emu, followed by Rod Hull’s exhumed cadaver, with Rod McKenzie a distant third. Mr McKenzie is so slippery that he could qualify as a UNESCO Heritage Site for Tree Frogs.

He looks no stranger to pies, bridies and sausage rolls. There’s a whiff of Bovril and Bullshit about him.

Scottish Football has evolved into a corrupt mutation of association football to accommodate a lie. The Lie that Rangers 1872/1899, the club with a Capital C, was sold to Charles Green’s Sevco Scotland as a going concern. Mr Green, with a deft touch of smoke and mirrors , renamed Rangers as RFC 2012. Rangers was finally put out of its misery when Lord Hodge consigned it to Liquidation on October 31, 2012. HMRC, with £92m in unpaid and evaded taxes, voted against the CVA. Rangers were hoist by their own corrupt petard.

As Rangers twisted in the wind like an effigy at Celtic Park, Charles Green was alive to the possibility of making a fast blue buck by acquiring the trading assets of the distressed company and repackaging them as a bastardised version of Rangers. Those who came down in the last shower, wearing bread wrappers on their heads, did not notice the difference. Colour me surprised with a capital C.

Mr. McKenzie is one of the founding partners of Harper McLeod. He acts for the William Hill Organization in relation to betting licensing and general litigation matters in Scotland and the north of England. He is  also the legal adviser to the Scottish Premier League and has acted for them in numerous litigations, disputes and contractual matters.

He is best known for his sleight of hand when he conveniently excluded the illegal DOS/VSS tax -evasion instrument from Bill Smith’s Whitewash Commission. In his esteemed opinion, EBT were a legitimate means of tax ‘efficiency ‘ which did not confer a sporting advantage. I trust McKenzie, whose integrity has no beginning, as far as I could throw him. In the entertainment that is the Kinloch v Coral civil case, which I have nicknamed The Hunfight at the OK Coral,  McKenzie’s testimony has elicited the most incredulity.

When Counsel asked McKenzie if he had a good knowledge of SPL rules , he duly responded:

I suspect I am the person with the best knowledge. I am phoned up and asked about SPL rules on an almost daily basis. The Club, with a capital C, had been sold to Sevco Scotland ltd. We learned this from the press mainly. “

I have highlighted this statement in red as it beggars belief. McKenzie, who must be more than aware of the failed CVA, would have us believe that he would take the fanciful flights of folly of those such as Keith Jackson and Shug Jack as the perceived wisdom of the age.

Mr McKenzie is a Charlatan with a Capital C.

Coral’s retained gunslinger, Craig Sandison QC, shot himself in the foot when he asserted:

Rangers were not relegated from the SPL, they were expelled from it.”

Allow me to edify Mr. Sandison. Charles Green and his basket of assets rocked up at the SPL to solicit the transfer of Rangers 1872  SPL share to Sevco Scotland. Only Rangers 1872, represented by Duff & Phelps, voted in favour of Green’s proposal. Kilmarnock abstained. The remaining 10 clubs voted against as they were facing a season ticket boycott had they agreed to this subversive abomination.

The following exchange was instructive:

Mr Sandison inquired:

” Was the football team called Rangers FC ever relegated from the SPL?”

McKenzie responded:

That would require me to make a judgement on what is ‘relegation’ and I’d rather not do so.”

Forgive me if I pause with exasperation. The self-styled consigliere of the SPL, the go to guy on the rules that he drafted and ratified, was not prepared to make a judgment call on relegation. At this point the presiding judge Lord Bannatyne should have stepped in to force his hand. Should Kinloch lose this case, he has grounds for an appeal.

The Rangers that Mr Kinloch bet on are in liquidation. They are being wound down. Coral have no case to answer. Kinloch’s bet was that Rangers would be ‘relegated’. However all bets were off when they shuffled off their mortal coil.

An Injudicious Punt

This site is renowned for covering all the issues in Scottish football and providing reportage of major issues on a global scale. If I put Julian Assange/ Chelsea Manning on the back burner, I can limit this article to three threads that I will attempt to conflate.

By far the most amusing is a ‘rogue punter’ suing Coral for not paying out on a mugs’ bet. A typical mugs’ bet offers long odds on an improbable outcome. Those who fancy Scotland’s chances of lifting the Jules Rimet World Cup can wager at 2,500 to one, assuming that they can fill a betting slip with their teeth while their arms are tethered in a straitjacket. When Rangers 1872 were coming to terms with the false bottom of the Bellshill Billionaire, Phil Macgiollabhain was pointing to a figurative ECG Monitor that was flatlining.

The Hunfight at the OK Coral” has introduced the concept of figurative speaking, which to my mind is a modern epithet for double-speak. Counsel for Coral, with one eye on the blue pound, are going out of their way not to upset the Gamblers of Govania.

They are dancing around the concept of liquidation like a Morris Dancing Troupe using the failed reactor at Three Mile Island as a Maypole. 

As Lord Bannatyne considers his verdict, which has £250,000 riding on it, he is unlikely to contradict the fact that Rangers 2012 is a new club which applied to join the SFL for the first time.

When Coral were soliciting the blue pound they ‘figuratively’ stated that Rangers were back from relegation. However this non sequitur is unlikely to hole their case below the water line.

One wag on James Doleman’s Twitter feed suggested that he might have to kill off a character to maintain the dramatic tension. As Coral’s counsel twist their blood with their metaphors, a ‘figurative’ expiration would be apposite.

Meanwhile, one has to revert to Belfast Live for news of a recidivist Hun being sent down. Note to Mr. Hannan. If The National deemed to cover this matter, would they conceal the identity of the criminal perpetrator under the cloak of a ‘West of Scotland football supporter‘ which is now common practice at BBC Hun Scotland. I would like to see him defend the indefensible Kenny Macintyre, who has to wear loose pants to hide his hard-ons when interviewing former Rangers players. Macintyre is as staunch as he is erect.

In a previous article ( JJ passim: The Anatomy of a Hun) I contended that the King’s paramilitary wing,  The Sons of Strewth, were typical of the Hun sub-species. One does not have to leaf through the heady bamboo like an anthropologist with a beard of bees to find a Hun reverting to type. Step forward, or should that be best foot forward, Darren McDonald:

Was counsel for the defence of the indefensible Mr. McDonald speaking ‘figuratively ‘ when asserting that their client slipped when trying to punt the young Hibs’ supporter’s head into row Z? If my eyes don’t deceive me I could swear that the Getty Image depicts a two-footed lunge on a kid who had been punched to the ground by another blue knight in shining armour. I’m surprised his counsel did not try on the Traynor/Jackson defence of protecting the Rangers players, whom if we believed their rhetoric were being crucified on the goal posts by the Hibs marauders, while singing ‘Always look on the bright side of life. Life is Johnny Rotten when your tactics are Warburton.’

Regular readers will note that I featured Mr. McDonald’s action photos in a number of my articles as a litmus test as to the willingness of Police Scotland to arrest one of their own. The photographic evidence was compelling. At Glasgow Sheriff Court McDonald pled guilty to running on to the pitch after the final whistle and assaulting the unknown man and kicking him on the head or body. Sheriff Stuart Reid handed McDonald  a 9 month jail term and a three and a half year football ban. Colour me surprised but McDonald is currently serving a sentence in Northern Ireland. The latest jail term will run consecutively. McDonald puts the ‘H’ in Hun.

Mr McDonald sporting his take on the Bayeux Tapestry, seen through the prism of The Battle of The Boyne, in a tattoo homage.

In the final of my triumvirate of themes, I revert to the SFM and their latest leading article. These articles are as ubiquitous as pork pies with a crust bearing the legend of Mazal Tov at a Bar Mitzvah. As I demur from threading my hens’ teeth necklace, I note that they are predicting that Career Criminal King is running out of road. The absence of King, Murray and the invisible man, WATP Gilligan, from the Ibrox directors box could have been a coincidence, or an attempt by Letham, Park & Taylor to rein them in  as they seek detente with Ashley. King’s removal would be non-negotiable. Only a slow boat bearing laundry from China might postpone his denouement. A fast £2m is required to stave off a scenario where Rangers 2012 would be trading whilst insolvent.

Nothing would please me more than seeing King’s slippery shoulders being thrown under a Parks of Hamilton bus, casting orange peelings from his pockets in a wide arc, but rumours of his demise may be little more than wishful thinking. The Herald contacted Rangers and were assured that no directors had resigned. A more pregnant question would be whether any directors had been sidelined. It’s a question I would have asked, but lateral thinking at The Herald went out of common usage when Alf Young retired.

Defending the 4th Estate

Jack Irvine, who occasionally drops by the Sitonfence Speakeasy to make an insightful comment, suggested that Martin Hannan was worth his salt at The National. The following article which was written by Mr. Hannan has not been edited or amended in any way:
I am about to try and defend a much-misunderstood and put-upon species, the Scottish sportswriter, particularly in regard to a football team called Rangers. You’ll note I use the word ‘team’. That’s because I want to avoid the whole administration-liquidation-sevco-club argument, not because I don’t understand it, but because those people who push the argument pick on Rangers alone when other clubs have suffered similar fates and not received anything like the opprobrium. Google ‘Hibernians’ and ‘Hibernian 1890.’ for a start.

Let me make my opinion on one Rangers subject clear: if the Supreme Court decides that the Court of Session was right to overturn the Tax Tribunals’ previous judgements that Rangers – specifically Sir David Murray’s Rangers – were legally okay to use Employee Benefit Trusts to avoid paying tax, then the Rangers of that era will finally be proven to have cheated both the taxman and the rest of Scottish football.

The consequences should be inevitable. The Scottish Football Association and the Scottish Professional Football League should convene a new inquiry into the nature of EBTs and their usage, then punish all those who used them illegally, if necessary by removing trophies and titles. Remember that Lord Nimmo Smith’s Commission proceeded on the basis that EBTs were legitimate – if the Supreme Court says otherwise then a new Commission has to judge the football case again, because cheating the taxman is cheating football, too.
If the Supreme Court finds against him, Sir David Murray also should be stripped of his knighthood.

The current incarnation of Rangers say they will fight any title-stripping, though presumably not David Murray’s. Their stance is illogical and hypocritical: you can’t claim to inherit the history of a club if you do not accept all the consequences of that history.

Dave King and co are only in charge of Rangers because Murray sold the club to Craig Whyte for £1 before Charles Green arrived on the scene. And wasn’t King involved in the Murray era? That will be the same Dave King who promised tens of millions to get Rangers competitive against Celtic again. Mmmm… To believe some people who opine, usually anonymously on social media and the blogosphere, the Scottish sportswriting mob ignored all this ‘Rangers in trouble’ stuff right through the Murray era and into Green’s bonkers time at Ibrox.

I can assure you, they did not. I was part of that ‘mob’ at the time, and can roughly say that we divided into three parts – those who hadn’t a clue what was going on as they came from a pure sports background and couldn’t tell the difference between a balance sheet and a team sheet; those who were intimidated and bullied by a Rangers that did everything it could to put a lid on scandals; and those whose editors did not want to know, because they feared the loss of Rangers-supporting readers and court action – I’d say the vast majority of us were in that category, as The National wasn’t around to work for back then. We were silenced because newspaper editors and managers did not want a big legal fight with Rangers who made it clear they would resort to their lawyers, a threat I thought was groundless but which was taken very seriously indeed by the high heid-yins.

There are no doubt some of those anonymous non-traditional media types who think we are all still in thrall to Rangers. Oh really?

Have you read Tom English’s stuff on the BBC – who are still banned from Ibrox – or Gordon Waddell’s piece in the Sunday Mail at the weekend? Graham Spiers gets death threats for his stuff, Bill Leckie in The Sun regularly has a pop, and I like to think I’ve done my bit, always from the viewpoint of the fans who, though they often disgrace themselves, are the real story of Rangers’ survival. Here’s a startling fact the anons will probably ignore – newspapers just cannot say and do what they want. They never could, and in these post-Leveson days, they cannot even print hearsay. Which is why most important calls and interviews carried out by journalists are automatically recorded with the big clubs’ press officers ostentatiously taping interviews, too, as if to say ‘don’t dare misquote us’.


It also comes back to the point I made at the beginning, which was that it is editors and owners who set the policies for newspapers, and that is why under founder Richard Walker and Callum Baird, The National has set a distinctive tone in Scottish journalism, encouraging writers to dig for stories and state opinions that would not see the light of day in other newspapers.

In the end, the big decisions are for the officers and not the infantry. That goes for the back pages as well as the front.”

Mr.Hannan should take pause and have a look at what passes for copy at The Daily Record. The aftermath of the Scottish Cup Final was played out on live television. However Keith Jackson was not watching the live feed. He was taking dictation from James Traynor. The Level 5 supremo asserted that each and every Rangers player was assaulted on the field of play. It was a lie which was exposed by Kenny Miller’s wife on Twitter. Jackson ran with it anyway. To compound their ignominy, a junior hack ran with a narrative that Rangers fans were using their children as barricades to thwart a police response. Murray Foote was taken to task on accuracy. The complaint against the Record was upheld by The Press Complaints Commission.

Mr. Hannan highlights that hearsay is not admissible in print, as is the case in court. Yet the junior hack at the Record created a fanciful narrative that was predicated on a tweet. The journalism at the Record can best be described as inaccurate and irresponsible.

Mr. Hannan dismissively refers to the ‘anons‘ and in doing so is having a pop at me: an award-winning social media commentator. Does he also dismiss the Rangers Tax Case ‘anon’ who won The Orwell Prize? If it were not for RTC David Murray would not have been exposed as the cheating  tax-evading blaggard we know him to be today. Should Rangers be stripped of the titles they won by foul means, those who value sporting integrity will owe a huge debt to the anonymous individual behind RTC.

I’m writing this article in exile. The death threats against me are real. Those who believe that they know my identity will continue to throw darts at what they perceive to be my image. A paramilitary style attack was planned to blind me with acid and amputate my fingers so as to rule out brail. So don’t dismiss my desire for anonymity Mr. Hannan. The threat of an opportunistic assault is somewhat mitigated by my enforced relocation. How far would you go to avoid being a blind amputee?

You refer to digging for stories and providing opinions that would not see the light of day. I provide real exclusives, such as David Murray’s $1m bribe to Lawrence Marlborough. It’s highly likely that you were given this information as we share the same source, but you chickened out from running with it. If one wishes to be known for fearless reportage, then stick your head above your laptop’s parapet. Hiding behind the skirt of your editor won’t win any awards.

Many of my readers have a penchant for the SNP, despite the fact that Stewart Hosie was David Murray’s IT factotum. Mr. Hosie could not be missed as he had large protruding ears. Running for a bus was challenging for Mr. Hosie as there was a clear and present danger that he would take flight. His moniker, The SNP Kite, was well ear-ned. One assumes that Mr. Hosie had his ears pinned back prior to engaging in his extra-marital ménage a trios with a political hack, whom he was sharing with another Nationalist MP, who was also playing away.

These Nats  with their penile portfolios were fond of  their afternoon out of chambers  rumpy pumpy. They favoured the missionary position prior to the session bell calling them to their knees.

Friends, Fellow Nats, Countrymem, lend me your ears.

There have been many comments on this site, which currently number north of 24,000, apropos Mr. Murray’s apparent immunity from prosecution. The Murray Omertà has drawn a veil over his illicit activity of bribery, kickbacks and racketeering.

When David Murray (not yet Sir David) was holding court in the late 80s and early 90s at The Gyle HQ with a never ending stream of visitors including agents, footballers, councillors , bankers and, of course, grovelling journalists, Stewart Hosie was never far from his side. The strange thing is that 26 years later it is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to find anything on the web that identifies this influential man and his relationship with Sir David. Chapeau to the spin meisters at Bute House

Why is Mr Hosie so coy about admitting his years with Sir David? And, was he still employed there in 1991/92 when the doyen of Scottish financial journalists, Alf Young, ran a devastating exposé In The Glasgow Herald on Murray International which led to the group being swiftly split into two new entities? In fact, Mr Young’s original draft said that Murray International was trading insolvently but the paper’s lawyers took cold feet and the story stopped short of that allegation. When Alf Young left The Herald in 2009 there was never the slightest chance that any of his talentless successors would ever cast such a forensic eye over the Murray empire and the chairman’s plunder of Rangers. The National is a Herald Group title.
One wonders if Mr Murray used his standard interrogation technique with Mr Hosie as he did with every other visitor to his office. It went something like this:-

Murray: “You’re a good looking boy. Have you got a bird on the side?”

Gullible visitor(GV): “Of course not, I’m a happily married man.”

Murray: “Aye, so am I, but I’ve got a bird. You must have a bird. Everybody’s got a bird.”

GV, feeling increasingly flattered that he is getting to spend quality time with this business giant, “Well, I might have a wee bit on the side.”

Ker- ching! That was the moment that Murray had the visitor in his steely grip for ever more.

The trouble was that Murray then delighted in telling the next visitor that his previous (often famous visitor) was shagging Miss or Mrs X.

You could not believe how many people fell for this technique and it might explain the reluctance of certain people to criticise the ‘great man’even now.

What about you Mr. Hannan. Are you stymied by the indiscretions of those higher up The Herald food chain?

The Anatomy of a Hun

There are times when sexual epithets such as ‘total tit‘ or ‘complete fanny‘ do not go far enough to describe the brain-curdling incompetence and insidious bias of Keith Jackson at The Daily Rectum ( Real Arseholes Read The Rectum).

Jackson is persona non grata at Celtic Park and Lennoxtown. He is barred sine die. Give pause to think about that for a second. Jackson, whose awards were bought and paid for by the Rectum, has no access to anyone at Scotland’s most powerful and successful club. He cannot comment with authority on anything at Celtic as he is completely out of the loop. He has no ‘sources close to the board‘ or any unofficial channels. It’s a blanket ban for riding Ronny Deila so aggressively that many observers were awaiting the appearance of Chris Jack’s rodeo clown.

So when Jackson suggests that there is an unwritten gentlemen’s agreement apropos damages at Celtic Park, he is at best lying; or at worst being little more than Jim Traynor’s ventriloquist’s dummy.

Prior to ripping Keith a new alimentary canal, it’s important to distinguish between regular Facsimile Rangers supporters and ‘Huns.’ The Hun is not a 90 minute bigot.He is a 24/7 green grass avoiding recidivist of the first ordure. This aberration of evolution can be seen at Orange Order marches wearing white gloves (no blood was spilled) and gets a real kick from urinating on Catholic Churches. The Hun did not attend Sunday School or the Boys Brigade as  his non-educated delinquency was too unreconstructed for either The Church or Hitler youth. The Hun will typically sport tattoos of hatred such as ‘Fuck the Pope‘  and will revert to singing The Famine Song and The Billy Boys at the drop of a bowler hat.

Craig Halloween Houston and convicted criminal Temazepam  Chugg of The Sons of Strewth and now Club Tropicana, are  typical Huns. The latter graduated from stealing kids dinner money to dealing in prescription drugs. There are many Huns in Barlinnie Prison.

Regular Rangers fans, such as Chris Graham, the 48 hour pop-up director, is more creative with his expressions of hatred. He can conflate Jar Jar Binks, Mohammed and bestiality with such eloquent elan that he is wasted in pretending that he is a PR consultant.

The Hun will punch the teeth out of a Rangers lady steward, and attack a pensioner who augments his state allowance by assisting with crowd dispersal at the club he has followed man and boy. The Hun sub-species requires a Police Scotland detail to shadow he and his ilk at all away grounds, including the friendly rag-dolling at Leipzig.

Who was the bright spark who thought that a demoralising game in the snow would rejuvenate the failing Rangers team? As Celtic engaged in warm weather  work-outs in Dubai, the Rangers team were chasing shadows in sub-zero temperatures.

I digress. Given an opportunity the recidivist Hun will always revert to type. Ripping out a hand basin or a urinal is food and drink to a Hun. He can disable pipes more effectively than ISIL attacks on oil arteries in Qatar.

The Hun is a Jack of all recidivist trades. He can engage in plastic seat volleyball at Pittodrie with the best of his monobrowed tribe. So why would Celtic give Huns licence to run amok in their facilities?  Does Jackson ever pause to consider what Traynor is feeding him with? Is any nose-bag of black propaganda as good as the next?

In composing this blog I have done my utmost to avoid cheap lavatorial gags such as ‘Water Closet Gate‘ and ‘Flushed with Failure‘ but the arse fell out of Jackson’s argument when Celtic issued an invoice for damages and apprised the SPFL of how they were going to make good their loss. Jackson’s  ‘ Gentlemen’s Agreement’ thesis is a Level 5 construct that is  built on sand.

The attempt at a ‘tit for tat’ bartar of respective damages does not wash. The Hun is out of the Incubator and knee-deep in sewage. It has always been thus.

Liquidation

Liquidation? Yes I said it!” to paraphrase one of my favourite comedians, Chris Rock. It’s a word that seems to be proscribed in the SMSM. There were gasps of surprise when Gordon Waddell veered from the Level 5 script to assert that Rangers did not exit administration. In a previous article Mr. Waddell, when pressed for the truth, responded : “You can’t handle the truth.

Despite the mendacious revisionism in the SPFL, the club playing at Ibrox is not the corrupt tax-evading juggernaut from “The Bent Years: 1988 – 2011.” I make no secret of the fact that I was taken to Ibrox as a boy. However my allegiance was to a club that no longer exists. In 2012 only a half-wit would have accepted that Charles Green’s facsimile club, which initially had only five players in training, was Rangers. Mr Green milked the blue pound for all it was worth but when push came to shove, in court, he refused to perjure himself. His counsel stated, without fear of contradiction, that his client bought a basket of assets  from a distressed football club for his newly established company, Sevco Scotland. This company changed its name to The Rangers Football Club Ltd. If I were to change my forename to Jesse and added horse riding to my daily regimen would you expect me to rob banks?  Soliciting much – needed donations to maintain a seven day service is not daylight robbery.

It might appear that the knives are out for King, but in the final analysis there are so many interests to serve at the SMSM that unexpurgated copy is as rare as quiet understatement from Mark Warburton. Leipzig ragdolled Rangers yesterday. The Ibrox outfit only had one shot at goal. If this was a courtship dance to attract the attentions of Red Bull, the only ‘wings‘ on show were from the Rangers fans who sang Ten German Bombers; if one recalls ‘ten green bottles’ and adds the RAF, you’ll get the gist of it.  Scotland’s shame keep shooting themselves in the foot with RAF accuracy. Red Bull will not be making a bee-line to Ibrox having been summarily introduced to The Rangers Recidivism. WWII ended over 70 years ago, but then what’s seventy years when compared to the 325 years since The Battle of the Boyne?  I can understand the solace of the past to a supporter who has lost his club, but only the most obnoxious supporters would revive old war songs to denigrate the German war dead. What should we expect next from Scotland’s Shame? Mock Nazi Salutes?

I’m fairly certain that when UEFA look at the Rangers support ‘s ‘bouncy bouncy’ on the Luftwaffe that they might well demur from giving Rangers a dispensation to play in their tournaments.

Les Pissoirs of Europe would be on a Sevcon 1 Red Alert: The urinals would be airborne, the shit on the streets would overwhelm the fans.

As I write, the battle of Les Pissoirs is doing a roaring trade in the SMSM. Celtic have issued a bill for £35,000 to Rangers. If they fail to pay within 30 days of issue, interest will be charged on the capital sum and will duly be withheld from Rangers ticket receipts. Risibly, TRFC have responded that they will counter sue. Were the scented candles left by the Celtic support not to their liking? Surely beggars who shit on the streets of Manchester cannot be choosers?

Meanwhile Neanderthal Ferguson has entered the speculate to accumulate debate. He has advised that King should not bet the bank. There is no bank. The church mice have died of consumption. Advising King not to bet the bank is akin to telling a one – armed man not to take up the tuba. There was never any intention of overinvestment.

If Rangers 1872 – 2012 could be considered a thoroughbred, Sevco is no more than a pantomime horse. Is this the truth that Waddell was referring to?

A History of Corruption

I have sources that run as deep as the corruption at Ibrox. The information I’m about to impart to you has been a closely guarded secret since 1988, when David Murray acquired Lawrence Marlborough’s 52% stake in RFC (1L). If this is not an exclusive, then by all means refer me to the section in Paul McConville’s legacy site,  or the appropriate RTC archive.

The received wisdom is that David Murray paid £6m for a controlling interest in Rangers. This money was borrowed from The Bank of Scotland, a bank that would in time bet its very existence on Murray. It was a losing bet.

However here’s the kicker :

In addition to the £6m purchase price, Murray paid Marlborough $1,000,000 tax free in a cash bribe. A senior Murray International plc employee travelled to Marlborough, who at this point had relocated to the United States,  to deliver the payola in a suitcase.”

Marlborough knew that Murray was bent, but as he did not have the business acumen of his grandfather, he did what Real Rangers Men have done ever since. He cashed in and evaded tax. Murray has been ripping off HMRC since 1988. When I mentioned that the Souness/Smith 9-in-a-row was won on a platform of tax evasion,  prior to the introduction of the sophisticated DOS/VSS and EBT artifice, I knew that Murray was not playing by the rules. He was paying players off the books while Jim Farry played ‘The Sash my father wore‘ on the flute. If you think dual contracts started in 1998, think again.

Marlborough knew Murray was a wrong’ un, but he did not give a flying fuck as long as he paid the $1m bribe

As soon as the ink was dry on the contract, Murray used Rangers as his calling card to solicit £1,000,000,000 in soft loans; and to rape HMRC and Rangers with impunity.

Murray engaged in two decades of financial rape, plunder and chicanery on an industrial scale at Ibrox, The Gyle and The Mound, headquarters respectively of RFC, Murray International and the Bank of Scotland. Despite being as wide as the Clyde at Gourock, Gordon Brown recommended Murray for a knighthood. You could not make it up.

Murray played fast and loose with other people’s money. To his mind, the dual contracts and the $1m inducements paid to Marlborough and Johnstone were part and parcel of a corrupt game that he played better than anyone else. He was the smartest guy in the room. He had a finger in every pie. If any company wanted to be part of the supply chain at Ibrox, Murray had to be bribed with equity or a direct kickback.

Murray was brazen. He might as well have turned up in the directors box at Ibrox wearing furs and a Viking Helmet as he serially raped the club. If you were stupid enough to invest in Rangers, as was the case with Joe Lewis, or had a hot £20m burning a hole in your pocket as was the case with King, Murray would shaft you so vigorously that you would forget your PIN number.

To those who have closely observed Rangers since the 1980s it should come as no surprise that a succession of venal, ill-educated, coarse and corrupt individuals were attracted to the anarchic world of Scottish football. Men of character and probity such as the late Hugh Adam were a rarity and it is no surprise that his oft repeated observations on shoddy business practice and criminal behaviour continue to have resonance to this day.

Unraveling The Cardigan

As The Cardigan dropped in for a smorgasbord of biscuits with Tea Jenny Jackson, whose pallor is more analogous to Long Island Ice Teas than any Twining’s confection, no expense was spared with the comestibles. Jackson set up his side plate  with Oreo in goal, a staunch back four of Bourbon Creams, box to box Custard Creams, and a couple of Ferraro Rocher up front to complete his 4-4-2.  The Silver Fox, who has forgotten more about coaching than he ever knew, plumped for a Wagon Wheel in goal, three Club Oranges in defence, two overlapping Twix who were not allowed to cross the half way line, and a midfield five composed of Terry’s Chocolate Orange segments. Old anti-football habits die hard.

The battle of the comestibles was played as a medley of Dave Clark 5 hits resounded from Keith’s iPod, which was sorcery by another name as far as The Cardigan was concerned. He had a good mind to burn Keith at the stake, but he demurred as he had no desire to jeopardise an Orange Orgy of Pishpuffery.

Far be it for me to rain on their orange parade, but it was somewhat remiss of The Cardigan to omit the following incontrovertible facts:

1. Bob’s your Uncle Walter picked up £10,000 per month from Charles Green for doing the square root of fuck all.

2. Smith stuffed  £200k of free shares in his Starsky & Hutch Cardigan.

3. On the occasions when The Cardigan attended an RFC function he was paid to do so, and drank liberally and dined excessively at Charles Green or his hosts expense. He gained s reputation for having short arms and long pockets.

4. The timeline of The Cardigan stepping down from the board was after Charles Green’s departure. It was not a principled resignation during Charles Green’s tenure.

5. Dutch Uncle Walter received a pay-0ff of almost £30,000 when he stepped down.

6. Smith received a Souness-style EBT bung from the most corrupt man in Scottish football, Campbell Ogilvie, at the behest of the Great Satan of Financial Fair Play, Sir David Murray. At close to £50,000 this would have paid for a lost weekend in Glasgow with Chic Young.

7. In an episode where the fox was encouraged to set about the chickens, Smith established Roosternet Globall LLP to engage in some anti-taxation.

 

The Cardigan would have use believe that he was black affronted from his association with Charles Green.  However he was not too ashamed to pick up £40,000 from May to August 2013 as non-executive Chairman in a role that put the ‘S’ in sinecure. Nor was he ashamed to pick up £200,000 in free shares from Charles Green. When one includes his £30,000 pay-off and £50,000 EBT transfer bung, that’s close to £320,000 of brazen exploitation by the Rangers legend. A blow-torch would not penetrate Walter Smith’s brass neck

One would never expect hard-hitting investigative journalism from Keith Jackson, the man who put the Billionaire in Bellshill, but had I met up with Walter he would have been lucky to get a couple of rich tea biscuits and a scalding urn of rhetoric.