This site is a touch over 15 months old and in that time there has been 8.7m visits, 23,000 comments and one prestigious award. Not a bad haul for a site that started off with a handful of contributors. Chief among these, in thoughts and deeds, is The Mensch, whose support of this site goes largely unseen. His contributions are measured, eloquently phrased and insightful. If one were to use his comments as a template one would not go far wrong. December, unsurprisingly (although I have no means of comparison as I introduced a PayPal facility five months ago) received only one half of the donations made in November, which in turn was only 75% of donations made in October. No-one blogs to make money but I had hoped to be in a position to pursue our shared passion full time. This site will continue for as long as my readers continue to support what is their site. Those who share their thoughts have a voice. The empirical evidence suggests that this voice is being heard. For a growing consensus this site is the go to blog for the unvarnished truth. I will occasionally make mistakes as I did yesterday. My blogs are not immersed in aspic. They are dynamic documents which I amend when I err; and should the narrative develop I am quick to provide an addendum. I have listened to the sage advice of no less than Jack Irvine. If he were my editor, this site would thrive. I am quick to castigate many in the SMSM who have lost their way in pursuit of the blue pound but it’s worth bearing in mind that Jack trained many of them. Let me be the first, from a foreign shore, to wish Jack and TM a happy, healthy and prosperous new year. May your losses be bearable, and your blessings plentiful. I would also like to toast Jimbo for his support from the very beginning. As is a family tradition I will wear my formal kilt this evening. This presents an opportunity to wear Jimbo’s thoughtful gift of engraved cufflinks (JJ). One can take the man out of Scotland but not Scotland out of the man.
When reviewing 2016 I have in excess of 650 blogs to choose from. I will pick my personal favourite from each month and let my readers decide if my choice is representative of my output. In January I chose to pursue the Police Scotland witch hunt of Craig Whyte, Charles Green et al. Despite staring down the barrel of a two years prison sentence, and robust discussions in chambers, I provided an exclusive narrative on how the prosecution’s case unraveled. The establishment did not want their dirty laundry aired in public. I hung them out to dry. Charles Green wrote to congratulate me on the accuracy of my sources. To his mind I was the only site with the true narrative. This was social media journalism in the raw.
In February Hong Kong Phooey is worth a revisit. What deal did King strike to elicit a £5m loan? Is the stadium and Auchenhowie being held as collateral by Ibrox Park Holdings Ltd? Will ownership revert to this company on loan default?
Taxing Times in March provided an insight on how HMRC are waiting on the sidelines to forensically dismantle David Murray’s football wheeze. Many greedy little piggies will be squealing in March when BDO’s spurious petition is dismissed.
April’s Moral Turpitude IV details one of the most flagrant abuses of legal privilege that I have ever encountered. A female barrister, caught in flagrante delicto in broad daylight during rush hour in a spur to Waterloo station, chose to avoid charges by claiming she was too drunk to give consent to the penis she was stimulating by hand when she was apprehended. I also covered the Ched Evans miscarriage of justice. I was vindicated by his exoneration on all charges.
May’s Scottish Cup Final was remarkable in so many ways. Warburton, who is a spoiled schoolboy in short pants, petulantly refused to lead his team out to collect their runners-up medals. Meanwhile Keith Jackson was opining on how the Rangers players were all attacked by the invading Hibs marauders. His master’s voice was spinning a story of mass graves and recidivist fans forced to invade to protect their players. Meanwhile Murray Foote approved an invented tale of Rangers supporters using their children as human shields to prohibit a police response. It was unadulterated horse shit of the first ordure which spawned my mantra that “Real Arseholes Read The Rectum.”
With Brexit in the crisp June air, there were a number of my very unpopular political posts. They were all well-researched and reasoned, but went down like the Hindenburg crashing into a petrol station. I can understand the antipathy towards a Scottish Labour Party who had the audacity to recommend a knighthood for the biggest legless criminal this side of Oscar Pitorius. Dad’s Army, on the other hand, captured the imagination of many who could not believe the collection of old and infirm bums that were rocking up at Auchenhowie.
My excoriation of James Keegan, who was threatened with contempt of court proceedings due to an unconscionable press release, was hotter than July. Is it any wonder that Keegan was substituted by Alex Prentice? My Farce From My Elbow was very popular.
The Renascent Rangers support was in full voice in August, venting their spleen against the Pope with impunity. WATP Gilligan asserted that the tune to Marching To Georgia is a catchy one. So is ‘Holiday in Cambodia’ by the Dead Kennedys, but this does not mitigate the offence. I covered this in a number of posts, including The Song Remains The Same.
Dear JJ : Club Statement featured The Bears in Bavaria in September.There was more oompah than a Je Suis Graham Statement through a strangulated hernia.
In October’s The Going Concerns Are Ongoing, I was proven correct in my assertion that RIFC/TRFC would require additional funding to meet bills as they fell due. This site was on the money about the impecunious situation at Ibrox.
November’s Between A Rock And A Hard Case highlighted the failure of Resolution 11 and its impact on the rogue board. I am ordinarily loath to use industrial language but inordinately and fucked come readily to mind.
In December I continued to express my alarm at the precarious condition of the roofs at what many wags refer to as The Crumble Dome. However The Year of The Hectorcist had the most reader traction.
No review of the year would be complete without my exclusive that Dave King procured the hacked Charlotte Fakes material from William Stevenson for £25,000. Did Stevenson insist on cash from King’s courier, Paul Murray?
Our absent friends in 2016 include David Bowie, Prince, Leonard Cohen and George Michael. Our world will be less rich without them.
This site has many detractors. Some have stumbled upon the truth during a toilet break at their ostrich farm. I can promise that the more they rail against me, the harder I will retaliate with my unalloyed rhetoric.
I raise my glass to all of you who have shared my journey and helped to establish this speakeasy as one of the finest sites in the UK, as recognised by the Football Blogging Awards. I thank you for your votes, comments and donations.
May your battles be few and your health be true.
Yours to 2017