The hype from Ibrox, crafted by Yuanker Traynor and articulated by the SMSM, had many neutrals and a significant number of Celtic fans forming a view that Rangers Lite would prevail on Sunday. When Simunovic was sent off by a bent DUP-facing assistant referee, I knew that the fix was in. Those who read my exclusive pieces that were gleaned from a Craig Whyte sales pitch are now aware that Lite have long known that they will be the beneficiaries of ‘honest mistakes.’ I fully expected a penalty from El Buffalo Morelos taking a dive. Having clutched his face in agony from the air current generated by Simunovic’s elbow, one fully expected his cheating to continue in the box.
El Buffalo is, not to put too fine a point on it, a Colombian village idiot who would have probably ended up being a drugs mule had he not been signed by Independiente Medellín. HJ Helsinki signed him, loaned him back to the vendor, and finally gave up on their 500,000 Euro investment when Caixinha came calling. They discovered early that Morelos has a poor first touch and a tendency to disappear in games where he is tested by a robust defence. The idea of Morelos playing in the EPL is as ridiculous as his much vaunted wholly fictitious move to the CSL with Beijing Renhe. How much does a village idiot cost in an inflated transfer market? The SMSM, reading from Yuanker’s script, peddled all the way to £12m before publishing the narrative that he was worth £15m in the close season and that Rangers Lite had shown ambition by retaining him. Are these so-called journalists congenitally stupid? Do they get by with one neuron more than their average reader? El Buffalo could have been purchased and loaned back as was the case with Celtic’s transfer business with St. Mirren.
The penny has finally dropped at the Penny Arcade. ‘The People‘ hurled more than abuse at Morelos when he raised his shaved idiot’s head above the parapet. In a bygone age he would have been pelted with rotten fruit. Fast forward to Sunday and the missiles included one pound coins and lighters, some of which drew blood. Three well-heeled ‘People‘ in the BA lounge decided to accost Sinclair and suggest that he was:
“A Black Fenian Bastard” and “A fucking taig cunt.”
He was invited to have sex with himself. My source informs of the following colourful epithets:
“Go fuck yourself you black paedophile cunt.”
The air was so RRM blue that the police were called. The abusers were removed from their flight to Belfast and arrested. The desk sergeant, no stranger to a lusty rendition of The Billy Boys, empathised with their plight. A black Celtic player in a lounge that is the preserve of the DUP on match days is just not on, irrespective of whether he participated in the match or not, as was the case with Sinclair. Does he not know his place? Does he not know that the DUP are the people? The tail that wags the Tory dog take their Sectarian bigotry to a different paradigm.
Career Criminal King, who claims to be short of a bob or two, no longer ‘jets in.’ Did he take the bus from the Airport to Buchanan Street? He was probably informed that Douglas Gordon Ross was on point and that it was Lite’s game to lose. Had El Buffalo scored from two yards out into an empty net, King would have partied like someone who had just successfully bribed the SARS number two, and the financial controller of Umgeni Water in the same day. Sadly the most excitement King had on the day was shaking himself dry in the Ibrox Executive lavatory in The Thornton Suite.
Graeme Murty looked in need of a blood transfusion in his post-match press conference. Had John Brown stuck his teeth in to him, or did Brown settle for a somewhat robust monologue? My source suggests the language used was RRM blue:
“Ten fucking men you useless cunt. “
Dear oh deary me. Not the kind of language to empower the interim first team coach.
But what did Brown expect from Murty’s rag tag bargain basement bag of loanees? Provident cheques can only stretch so far. A draw would have been the ideal result for King as he would not have had to shell out for win bonuses, while repeating the mantra that Lite now had parity with Celtic. King needed a CL place to have any chance of keeping the Messengers At Arms at bay. I’m sure there is no truth in the rumour that the latter are performing doughnuts in The Albion Road Car Park, with the necessary permissions from Close Asset Finance.
If I were The Magnificently Maned Adulterer I would ask King to stay away as when King turns up for a final against Hibs or a season defining encounter with Celtic, Lite invariably lose.
In the Life of Brian the oppressed Judeans ask what have the Romans ever done for us. The same challenge could be made of King.
Lite have summarily dismissed two managers. One of whom, Mark Warburton, was informed that they had accepted his letter of resignation. When he asked to see said letter, that he had no knowledge of, Stewart Robertson unsurprisingly demurred. The employment tribunal coming down the pike will be a busman’s holiday for King.
One can but hope that the wheels don’t come off the Sevco Sitcom in April at Hampden. A mutiny from a cold-shouldered board and disgruntled fans might bring the curtain down.