Toasting Marshmallows on a Bonfire of Rogue Vanities

Those of you who follow my Twitter feed will know that more often than not I use this medium to solicit interest in my blog du jour. I occasionally Tweet information with no link as a teaser for an article that is in production. The meeting of five individuals in Glasgow is a point in case. Four of the five are known to me. To protect my source I will name only three participants: Derek Llambias and James & Sandy Easdale. The fifth member of the group has not been revealed to me (nor The Daily Mail who were pursuing the story). I was invited to speculate. I won’t be doing so.

There are those in my audience who wish to fan the embers of conspiracy theories. Here is my take on the most popular.

1. Who killed JFK? Lee Harvey Oswald. 

2. Was Princess Diana’s death accidental? No, she was assassinated by MI6/SAS. She was taken out prior to the announcement of her engagement to Dodi Fayed. There was no compulsion on Diana’s part to convert to Islam, but I contend that she would have done so to stick it to The Firm (The Royal Family). A scenario where the future King of England had a Muslim half-brother or sister was unconscionable.

3. Did American astronauts walk on the moon? Yes. Had they not done so they would have been exposed as frauds by Moscow.

4. Did Tony Blair lie to Parliament to prosecute an illegal war in Iraq? Yes.

5. Did Tony Blair issue a D-notice to protect paedophile labour peers that were identified in Operation Ore? Yes he did. I will in time defy his D-Notice. However it could result in this site being closed down.

6. Is there more than one author of articles on this site? Is there more than one moderator? This is a one man operation.

7. Did Lord Cullen engage in a cover up to conceal masonic/pederast involvement in regard to The Dunblane Massacre? Most certainly not. He moved to protect the families from the horrifying details of how their innocent children met their end. In my investigation I came across details of their deaths that I will never disclose.

8. Did Madeline McCann die in the room she shared with her parents and siblings. Yes she did. The latest theory, to sell books, is bullshit. The cadaver dog and blood samples point to a gruesome end. Gerry McCann makes my skin crawl. His conversation with Doctor David Payne, on how they had groomed their respective infant daughters to perform oral sex, should be acted upon by authorities. Gordon Brown should be taken to task for protecting these ‘swinging’ bastards. The only swinging they should do is from a rope, once the McCanns pay back the 3m euros they received for their wild goose chase Find-Madeline-Fund. 

On point seven the conspiracy theory is predicated on the supply of ammunition to Hamilton. This supply is rigorously regulated in the UK. If Hamilton reached out to a supplier in the U.S. or a member of the NRA he could easily have circumvented UK legislation.

I approach every piece of information and conspiracy with rigour. I take a measured and balanced view. I occasionally form opinions on the balance of probability. In regard to Diana’s assassination the evidence is compelling. There are trolls on the Sitonfence Speakeasy who wish to direct me down blind alleys to discredit me. This site has recently seen a spate of new comments from new contributors. I will in time separate the wheat from the chaff. If they accompany their new-found interest with a good faith donation then I will allow them to use the forum. I will maintain a watchful eye. The haters cannot help themselves. They are too quick to jump on a negative bandwagon and express their faux indignation.

I digress. The conclave in Glasgow was leaked to the press. Sky were almost certainly tipped off that Derek Llambias was on his way to sit down with the Easdales. From the scant details I have received from my source, who was present, the perilous state of Rangers Lite’s finances was one item on the agenda.

However, let’s put this into perspective. Two shareholders with a joint equity of slightly north of 6% had a meeting with Derek Llambias. Was he acting on instructions from Mike Ashley and his 8.9% stakeholding? This remains to be seen. The thorny issue of the Easdale proxy was the elephant in the room.

To my mind they were getting their ducks in a row to prepare for an insolvency event. If Derek Llambias was an emissary for Ashley then he will have been apprised of how retained counsel are going to put an end to the rogue board. A £5m sword of Damocles if you will. This will be the sword that breaks the camel’s back.

Of course, they may have been toasting marshmallows on a bonfire of rogue vanities.



Colour Me Discredited

I would like to to take this opportunity to thank Mark McDougall of The Daily Rectum for the spike in my daily hits to 42,821. This was a significant improvement on the average of 30,000 visitors that this site ordinarily attracts on any given day. A cynic might contend that Mr. McDougall, whose failing organ The Ayrshire Post was acquired by The Daily Rectum, is trying to make a name for himself. In attempting to beat me up, metaphorically speaking, he made a complete arse of himself. His schoolboy spelling errors are redolent of a singular lacking in his education. As a pretendy-journalist he will do well on Darren Cooney’s sinking sports desk. Of course this begs the question of whether he has any acquaintance with his editor or any sub-editor to curb his green enthusiasm and latent dyslexia. Perhaps he was hired by Murray Foote, who has the Press Complaints Commission on speed dial.

Prior to the demise of Rangers (RIP 2012) the Labour-facing Rectum sold circa 300,000 copies per day. The latest figures by The Press Gazette point to a new low of 135,000 per diem. The Rectum served the most succulent lamb, cut hot from SDM’s rack and blew blue smoke up the arses of a football demographic reared on Woods, Butcher and Gascoigne. They were a tonic for the troops who abseiled from the stands when it was safe to do so, prior to same joining the crowd to engage in the sectarian epithets that continue to be the rage on Edmiston Drive.

They wore their Labour rosette on their sleeve, oblivious to the momentum being gained by the SNP. They backed the wrong horse on two occasions:

1. Rangers imploded under a sea of debt. Rangers Lite do not have the same traction.

2. Scottish Labour MPs were wiped out in the 2015 General Election.

I must confess to a vicarious pleasure in reading Keith Jackson’s copy. His coverage of the Australian Open, from his south side living room, was a masterclass in pretendy-journalism. Those hoping for local colour had to make do with Mrs Jackson’s choice of drapes.

However this low was limbo-danced under by his report on the Rangers Lite ‘casualties‘ in the aftermath of The Scottish Cup Final. The prosaic facts of the matter is that 200 or so Rangers thugs entered the field of play to attack the rejoicing Hibs fans. This was Scotland’s shame of the 1972/2008 vintage reverting to type on our television screens.   Jim Traynor, in one of his most scurrilous lies, suggested that the fans were defending the players who had all been assaulted and spat on. He subverted the truth and the prevailing narrative and in doing so precluded Rangers Lite from facing any sanction for the criminal behaviour of their supporters. The next home game in the Scottish Cup played behind closed doors would have given the thugs some perspective. However Regan danced as Traynor blew on his pipes. The wives and partners of the Rangers players turned up on social media to debunk the Jackson/Traynor narrative.

Worse was to follow. A hack of the lowest ordure wrote a piece of fiction predicated on a Tweet which suggested that Rangers supporters used their children as barriers to thwart a police response. She then linked this lie to another lie apropos a police officer comparing their alleged behaviour to tactics last seen in Belfast during The Troubles. It was an incendiary crock of shit which was brought to the attention of the Press Complaints Commission, which duly upheld the complaint.

Suggesting that I on this site is in any way discredited is an exercise in the pot calling the kettle black.  This is an award-winning site with north of 10m hits.

McDougall’s copy can be found on ‘Muck Rack’. How apposite.

Of course, he could have been no more than one of Level 5’s attack dogs. One can but hope that Traynor does not have details of an ill-starred ‘fly-opening‘ which stirs many of his tame hacks from their ennui.

I am neither tame nor discredited McDougall. If you thought I was an easier target than Phil Macgiollabhain, who also ran with the Morton narrative, think again. I’m not in exile due to sparing anyone’s feelings. When you are made redundant at the Rectum in the next wave of cuts, please don’t apply to be my copy clerk as the ability to spell is a prerequisite.

Your use of ’emenating‘ was truly emetic. Ernest Hemingway can rest easily in his grave.

Credit Where Credit Is Due

My source for yesterday’s exclusive has fifty years experience in the media. His source was a director of Morton FC. I had no doubt whatsoever about the accuracy of my information. My source has been ‘on the money‘ on numerous occasions. When the SMSM were made aware of this narrative, they always follow and rarely lead, they beat a telephonic path to Morton CEO Warren Hawke who ‘bottled it‘ in spectacular fashion. One can understand why Mr Hawke would not wish to upset Rangers, even in their Liter guise. SDM’s crushing of Airdrie, a provincial club not too dissimilar to Morton, was instructive. One can also understand why he would be keen to collect the £150,000 given that Morton routinely run at a £140,000 loss, which is accommodated by Golden Casket, the manufacturers of Millions, who sponsor Morton.

Douglas Rae, a lifelong supporter, attended his first Morton match aged eight and held a season ticket each and every season thereafter until joining the board in 1988. After over eight years as a director, he resigned from that role on 1 August 1997 prior to a regime change at Cappielow before returning to buy a controlling interest in the club and preserve its very existence. Mr Rae stepped in to prevent administrators from plunging the club into liquidation in August 2001 and has served as chairman for the past 16 years. Mr Rae is the owner of Golden Casket, which is now run by his son. Mr Rae senior received an OBE in the Queen’s birthday honours list in 2016.

I could reveal more about my personal connection to this club, but that would only encourage the Klan who crawled out from under their rocks to have a go at an accurate piece of reportage. Don’t think for a second that Hugh Keevins or any other SMSM totem was in the loop. Had anyone ever heard of Mark McDougall before he jumped on the bandwagon at The Daily Rectum ( Real Arseholes read the Rectum)? There were many others who queued up to have a kick at me on Twitter, including some CFC supporters who should know better. They all have egg pasted on their twisted coupons. Furthermore I have blocked them for their stupidity. I don’t make things up as click bait. If you want to read click bait at a failing organ, which is shedding staff commensurate with plummetting sales, to circa 135,000 per day, look no further than The Daily Rectum.

One of my contributors was ‘on the money‘ with this comment:

I have a friend who works in the offices at Morton who tells me moneys were indeed paid today as per the Morton statement on Twitter, but that Rangers were so worried about the publicity the delayed payment was generating they insisted Morton clarify receipt as a “condition” of transferring funds.

Sad to see the dying club holding smaller teams hostage for money then forcing them to sing for their supper!”

If your humble correspondent played a small part in expediting payment, then it was my pleasure to be of assistance. Morton FC CEO Warren Hawke, on the other hand, should have a long hard look at himself. One can but hope that Douglas Rae is also having a good look at him this morning. Hawke’ next drink in his local Masonic should be assured.

This site achieved a remarkable milestone yesterday. Since inception on September 19 2015, there have been 10,000,000 hits. Those who donate their hard-earned cash and thoughts to support ‘our site‘ should give themselves a pat on the back this morning. The comments on this site, which number north of 26,000, are a major draw to our site’s visitors. At the Sitonfence Speakeasy, the debates may be robust but are always respectful. No-one plays the man the way I was played on Twitter last night.

It has been my tradition to celebrate milestones by providing an insight of my global demographic on what I like to call John James World. This piece will not fly in the face of this tradition.

The prosaic facts of the matter is that this site is being read in every inhabited country and principality in the world, bar six Saharan countries. The top six countries for hits are:

1. U.K.       8,633,041

2. U.S.A.   241,568

3. Ireland   206,009

4. Australia (including Tasmania)  181,069

5. Canada   124,185

6. Spain    102,890

New readers include those from The Cook Islands and The Falkland Islands. I am also heartened to welcome Haiti and The Palestinian Territories. A special mention should also go to our brave men and women in Afghanistan who have dropped by.

We have come a long way, picking up an award en route. On the downside there have been credible death threats as per Police Scotland intelligence and being forced into exile. I had no idea where my first and best read blog –The Unvarnished Truth (40,000+ hits) – would lead. I did not envisage being far from family and friends. I have not chosen an easy path.

A Tale Of The Riverbank

Greenock Morton haven’t been paid the £150k they are owed by Rangers from the Scottish Cup Tie. It is now five days overdue. Nobody will take their phone calls at Ibrox.

Sounds like a severe cash flow issue.

Did the brainstorming and spitballing in Johannesburg add up to the square root of fuck all? Colour me surprised.


My impeccable source has informed me that after several phone calls to Ibrox by the press the matter has now been resolved. It’s good to know that the SMSM hang on my every word. I look forward to someone from Morton FC dropping by to express their gratitude.

The Drowning Pool

Regular readers will note that my Monday blogs more often than not reflect on the Scottish football that was played over the weekend. Prior to maintaining this tradition, word reaches me that Walter Smith OBE accompanied Bomber Brown on his Johannesburg jaunt. My source suggested a ‘think tank‘ but this stuck in my craw as Dumb, Dumber & Dumbest was uppermost in my mind. Things are so acute at Ibrox that Stewart Robertson has taken to wearing a face mask to guard against the occupational hazard of running on fumes.

A yet unidentified third party is apparently prepared to offer a crisis loan. This party did not travel to Jo’burg. Now there’s no denying that an old Rangers fool and his money are easily parted, but surely King could have made a house call? Picking pockets works best when the mark is in the same room. Is there any truth in the rumour that King has been banned from travelling abroad by the South African authorities?

Career criminal King, the only individual to have ever failed an SFA sniff test, has been shadow-directing operations since  5th March, 2015. Almost two years of circumventing SFA rules and not even a murmur of protest from Regan who has fallen asleep at the wheel again. Drinking tequila on an empty head was never going to end well. King promised a solid second behind Celtic. How about thirty points, which if maintained or improved upon would be unprecedented?  Aberdeen showed remarkable tenacity in turning round a one goal deficit at Rugby Park with two late strikes within two minutes, stretching the gap to Rangers Lite in third to six points. Rangers Lite’s predecessor, Rangers, had not lost at Dens Park since 1992. King’s Rangers Lite is breaking records with ignominious regularity.

Ibrox is fast becoming a drowning pool.

Since the demise of the Ibrox Three, who were not resigned to their fate prior to their P45s being issued with indecent haste, Graeme Murty has grasped the poisoned chalice with both hands. When I had a look at his first ever team selection, I was somewhat agog at his selection of Waghorn, Miller and Garner in the same eleven. Did he naively believe that Rangers could just turn up and steamroll Dundee?

Did Murty believe that the Blunt Scissor Sisters of Waghorn and Garner would prevail?

Dundee soon disabused him of this notion in a first half where more seasoned sufferers of Rangers Lite performances were questioning whether Murty had lost the dressing room. Lite were second to every ball and if I were to describe them as being abject I would be being kind. Warburton, for all his faults, would not have sent out lambs to the slaughter. If a taxi is not ordered for Murty, the alarming slide will become an avalanche that sweeps away any thoughts of Europa League participation. He was thrown into the deep end of the drowning pool in the hope that he could swim. All he could muster was a pathetic doggy paddle.

As for the champions-elect, Celtic, it was a quiet but solid day at the office. Should they prevail against Hamilton and ICT, they will go in to the game with Rangers knowing that a win would stretch the gap to third to a remarkable 33 points, with only ten games to play. As Aberdeen only have one more game against Celtic, as compared to Lite’s two, the gap could stretch to nine points. Hearts could only manage a draw on Saturday, but won’t let Rangers off the hook as they chase down third place.

As for a replacement manager for the ‘resigned‘ Warburton, both McInnes and Hartley stood out this weekend. McInnes, who would command a release fee of circa £800,000 is not within Lite’s gift. Paul Hartley on the other hand could do a job for Lite, with Kenny Miller as his assistant.

It’s the kind of pairing that Walter Smith, in his new role as Director of Football, would be proud of.

The Domino Effect

Dear JJ,

I would like to take this opportunity to formally rule myself out of the Rangers Lite management vacancy. I have coached at Juniors level and I once ran an U-16s team. Some might suggest that I’m overqualified given that Warburton was a wet behind the ears football management ingenue. However I’m stepping aside to maintain my legacy. If others wish to work for a crook and enter the elephant’s graveyard of Auchenhowie, then hell mend them.

Lady Bear, who sends her love, has added a restorative brandy to my morning coffee. She has a similar smirk on her face as the Chalfonts bin men had when receiving their Xmas bonuses. Despite her sang froid sophistication she can be quite the ‘midden’ when she wants to be. A brandy before eleven is my reward for my endeavours in the marital bed. Think “No sleep till Brooklyn” rather than “Nights in White Satin.”

I digress. Relative to the injustices of the Birmingham Six and The Guildford Four, the viscissitudes of The Ibrox Three pale to insignificance. Founding father Charles Green’s vision of a transatlantic partnership with The Dallas Cowboys may have come to nought, but Texas Hold’Em has taken root in the Ibrox trophy room, which if truth be told is little more than an ironing board in a broom cupboard. King has gone all-in on the flop, despite no improvement on his pair of deuces.

The ‘turn’ and ‘river’ cards will be played in court with a pot north of £2m. Stewart Robertson, who was born on the wrong side of the tracks in Greenock, will exhibit some street smarts but I anticipate that he will stop short at perjury. He has a real dilemma. If he tells the truth King will be faced with a £2m bath and will ‘resign‘ Robertson with prejudice. If he lies he might end up being a guest of Her Majesty at the less than palatial Barlinnie. Robertson has a youth about him that might not play well in the showers. One can but hope that he does the right thing and avoids some anal manoeuvres in the dark.

However, a King reverse might be the harbinger of a domino effect which could result in The Grim Reaper returning to the south of Govan for the first time in five years.

The court cases are coming thick & fast. One anticipates that Lord Bannatyne, who is well-versed on the Rangers Lite narrative, will deliver his interpretation of ‘relegation’ some time this week. If he calls it for the respondent, namely Coral, then one of the central planks of continuation will become a gangplank to oblivion.

The Litigation Circus will then move from The Court of Session to Glasgow Sheriff Court to address what reparation, if any, is due to the wi-fi vendors.

When one arrives at the Chancery Division of The Royal Courts of Justice, it will be a QC hoe down that The Dallas Cowboys would be proud of.

In the undercard, BDO are appealing an Inner House ruling and taking Duff & Phelps to task for not selling Ibrox to a retail conglomerate.

There will be more wigs than in Lady Bear’s aunt’s boudoir. I personally find her a bit too fond of her own voice and somewhat forthright in her views. If fascism was an American state, she would be Florida. Natasha puts her acidic bons mots down to the menopause. If only her tongue shut down with her vagina the world would be a better place.

I cannot imagine De Boer pitching his wicker chair on the Ibrox bonfire. His DOS/VSS days of  wonder (how did Celtic win any titles during the ‘bent’ years?) are a thing of the past. A long overdue invoice from HMRC would be as welcome as Salman Rushdie performing The Rites of Hajj.

Muppet Marty might not be everyone’s cup of decaffeinated tea, but beggars cannot be choosers. He’ll do until such time as the rogue board can find a household name to sell season rickets. I would not rule out Kenny Miller as player-manager.

It will be a rollercoaster JJ. I will look to your site for every twist and turn. A butterfly has spread her wings. The hurricane is on its way.

Yours in Rangers,

Edward (Teddy) Bear Esquire,

The Blue Bayou,

Chalfont St Giles

Bucks HP1 690


Dear Teddy,

Thank you for your letter and your De Boer debunking. There is more chance of a hog roast taking the reins at Ibrox than the DOS/VSS stalwart of yesterday. This rumour is more hooky than a streetwalker in Blythswood Square. Level 5 are busy spinning the fantasies for those who prefer the smoke being blown up their arses to have a blue hue. It’s as credible as RB Leipzig’s £6m bid for Barrie McKay. Keith Jackson should bow his head in shame.

If you’re supping from a styrofoam cup, a poisoned chalice might seem like a step up. There will be no shortage of résumé from the unemployed and unemployable, the nearly and never men in world football. Should one catch a glimpse of Mr. Blobby in the Blue Room would it be too much of a stretch to anticipate a Brown/Blobby axis?

Yours in exile,


Winning By Proxy

I realise that most of my diligent readers apprise themselves of the excellent contributions of my commentators and will be aware of the reasons for my absence from our site yesterday. A neighbour had called me to advise that Police Scotland were urgently trying to reach me. They left a letter behind that their intelligence unit had picked up on a credible threat to my life. According to a detective sergeant, the conspirators are based in the Stranraer area. Some were active members of the UVF and UDA. A couple of them had served time for murder. They were believed to have access to weapons. I was advised to stay with a family member or friend during my visit to my home town. I was in exile on my own Main Street. The price of running this site is now measured in my blood. I put my apartment on the market and demurred from cancelling my home insurance as they might raze it to the ground. My furniture is now in storage. It’s a shocking state of affairs. They evidently cannot handle the truth.

I digress. The pick of the goals in Aberdeen’s 7-2 rout of Motherwell came from Celtic loanee Ryan Christie. His delicious chipped volley was the culmination of some intricate passing from the Dons which clearly demonstrated that Derek McInnes has succeeded in integrating Christie into his enterprising forward line. If McInnes was interested in the poisoned chalice at Ibrox, what better way to apply for a position built on sand than for his charges to hit seven.

The game ended on an ugly note. Mark McGhee took off his balaclava to reveal a ‘coupon’ that only a mother in a leper colony could love. His sour grapes were a heady brew.

However when I ventured into the dark underworld of the Rangers bulletin boards, the ‘weird fishes’ were clearly supping from the same ‘bitches brew’ as McGhee. I cordially invite readers to name the artists who wrote and performed these groundbreaking compositions. For a bonus point name the artist who performed a cover version of the former at Glastonbury. I will reveal the answers in a comment.

Some Rangers Lite supporters were crying green murder apropos what they perceive to be a Timmy Conspiracy. They harked back to former Celtic loanee Anthony Stokes rag-dolling Tavernier at the Scottish Cup Final. In their mind’s eye Peter Lawwell is stroking a white cat on his heated driveway espousing:

I expect you to die Mr Hun.”

As they see their ‘solid second ‘ following ‘going for 55‘ down a slippery slope, they lash out at the Celtic supremo with impunity. Will the ‘State Aid’ loony, John Less Than Even Stevens, next assert that Lawwell did not pay full whack for his undersoil heating? One can but hope that Stevens has an epiphany of self awareness at The Vagina Monologues. He truly is a fanny.

The sense of entitlement passed down from the old club to the Phoenix club, as it does from father to son, truly beggars belief. McInnes has Aberdeen firing on all cylinders. He has cultivated winning ways and the development of Rooney over several seasons. Mark Warburton’s former lucky bag squad of has-been misfits were not likely to secure the runners-up spot. Warburton may have worn a stetson & spurs but he had no cattle.

Will Rangers Lite limp to the end of this season with Graeme Marty being regularly mounted by a new Director of Football in Bomber Brown? Just when you thought the farce could not get more ridiculous Mr. Blobby turns up with a truckload of jelly and ice cream.

Celtic have a talented squad of players. Their second stringers and development squad would wipe the floor with Rangers Lite. Giving the squad players game time is the only way that they will develop. Liam Henderson looks a much improved player after a season at Hibs.

Chris Jack at The Ibrox Bugle can always be relied upon to find a brush for a Trainspotting set toilet bowl. He should have flushed his copy down the pan as he sat composing the following piece in praise of the Rangers reserve keeper:

Jak  Alnwick asserted :-

I would say the training is more intense than what I have been used to, no disrespect to Port Vale’s players but we have a better quality here and they have been at the top top level for a long time.

The intensity is always good where in the lower leagues it is a lot about fighting and scrapping and everyone to their own but the intensity and the quality is a lot better.

The part we want to play as keepers here is massive and a lot of it is about possession football and we do do a good balance.

That is only good because sometimes as keepers you feel a bit left out of the team and it’s a case of us over there and the rest of the squad over here but here everyone is together and it is nice.

No matter where I have been I have sensed myself improving throughout my whole career and here is another big step.”

So despite never having punched a ball in anger, Alnwick has surprisingly improved. It’s bullshit of the highest ordure to solicit a feelgood response from his gullibilly demographic.

This bullshit sells, as opposed to The Daily Rectum that slumped to an all time low of 135,000 sales per day during the run up to Christmas. Darren Cooney, who has the utility of tits on a bull, should fall on his sword to save the career of Keith Jackson. I have grown fond of his Monday morning laugh-in.

The prosaic facts are compelling. Rangers Lite supporters are looking on like impoverished orphans ripped off by Dave King. It’s only natural that they crave the confectionery in the Celtic Tuck Shop. It will be an interminable time before they gravitate from penny chews to Toblerone – Celtic are in a league of their own.