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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Generation of Celtic Dominance.

The Cardigan is always good value for The Daily Rectum (Real Arseholes Read The Rectum). In the second part of his exclusive with Keith Jackson he passed the custard creams. It was inch perfect, cutting a swathe through the tea cups, awaiting a Bourbon to go head to head with the advancing Oreo. But alas and alack he was playing  The Levein Defence formation of 4-6-0 and the English Breakfast tea was spared any bag drama.

Walter Smith has had an easy ride at Ibrox. He inherited the best ever Rangers team from Graeme Souness and rode his luck and David Murray’s pre DOS/EBT tax evasion artifice all the way to 9 in a row. Bill McMurdo Senior, who brokered the Johstone signing, would have a tale to tell on how MoJo trousered £1m tax-free. His son was kind enough to come on this site and assert that he knew where the bodies were buried and could raze the corrupt edifice of Scottish Football to the ground. There was something distinctly rotten in the State of Govania.

With Keith, who has RFC/WATP striated through him like a Blackpool rock, there was never any chance of a curve ball for the flat track bully. It was just a couple of good old Billy Boys shooting the breeze and engaging in some elegant revisionism. At the last battle to rage on British Soil,  the Hun Blitzkrieg of Manchester in 2008, where there was more damage exacted than in WWII,  The Cardigan took his Anti-Football all the way to a minor UEFA final. Football integrity was upheld when Zenit St. Petersburg prevailed.

Lionel Messi, who has a soft spot for Celtic and the passion play that occurs at Celtic Park on European nights, was the first to identify Rangers play as anti-football. It was as dull as ditchwater on Black Friday. The Cardigan had set out his teams to hold out for no score draws at home. The ” there’s the macaroon and spearmint chewing gum” vendors did a roaring trade in matchsticks to keep the fans eyes open.

The Cardigan fesssed up that his team played Coma-inducing football. They crowded the midfield like an M6 pile up and reduced the opposition to rubber necking at the carnage.

As Keith bared his nipple in the hope that The Cardigan would bare his soul, in a Masonic tit-for-tat, he solicited an insight on The Cardigan’s successor, the Constant Lady Gardener, Salary McCoist. If The Cardigan was the high priest of Anti-Football then Salary was the Antichrist of coaching. Ally in his pomp had few peers as a fanny magnet, but when it came to football management he was just a fanny. He updated a popular  adage with:

A Jackie Bird in the hand is better than two Hazel Irvine’s in the bush.”

Who could ever fault his logic with the fairer sex? In many way he would be better suited to women’s football. He could wax and wane like the best of them.

When Walter opined on his ill-starred elevation to Charles Green’s board, he would like us to believe that he was naive enough to anticipate that he could effect change. The prosaic facts of the matter were that his EBT required a top up.

Walter’s phlegm-flecked diatribes at match officials was his calling card. He was not cut out to be a chairman. He would have been better in a role as club ambassador and inordinately better than Bomber Brown whose Gunboat Diplomacy and battle cry of  ‘chocks away‘ may have been misinterpreted as an invitation to drop pants and leave something hot and steamy on the Manchester by-ways. The cleaners thought that several divisions of mounted police had passed through.

I half expected Walter to feature on Crimewatch for football felonies.

As The Cardigan rails against the dying of the light and he and Souness’ legacy of emulating Jock Stein’s 9 in a row, he seems inordinately concerned that Celtic will win 10 in a row.

His concern is not misplaced. The clock is ticking on a generation of Celtic dominance with Rangers constantly in their shadows.

Mark Warburton: Football Ingenue

Prior to outlining the main thrust of this article which will pertain to David Low and Walter Smith engaging in a funding tug of war, I take pause to discuss the curious wager of Albert Kinloch. Mr. Kinloch placed a £100 wager that Rangers would be relegated with Coral at 2,500 to 1. When he skipped gaily into his local bookmaker at Glasgow’s Tollcross to pick up a cool quarter of a million pounds, he was astounded when they refused to honour his wager.

The Relegation Myth is a central plank of The Continuation Ark. Charles Green, who built the Ark, with constant lady gardener Salary McCoist, and Sevco players two by two, set off on a journey that is the preserve of new clubs, with the SFA doing the Can- Can on a five-way agreement.

The Continuation Jihadists insist that Rangers, an incorporated company that is being liquidated,  sisted itself from liquidation and emerged debt free and title rich.

The price for this incredible good fortune was Relegation. Of course it’s poppycock of the highest ordure. Charles Green, in his own words, bought the distressed assets of Rangers for his company Sevco Scotland. The entire first team refused to sign for Sevco and chose to join other clubs as free agents. The SFA released their registrations as Rangers were no more. The club that play at Ibrox are not the sectarian club of old who refused to sign Catholics and sidelined those who consorted with them; or the dual contract tax-evading juggernaut that many loved to hate.

Of course Continuation Apologists like Jim Fraser who drops by this site to comment but refuses to contribute to its upkeep, will quote:

Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan’l Whiddon, Harry Hawke, Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.

I’m sure he could even find a particle physicist at C.E.R.N who could forward a cogent argument that Rangers exist in a matrix of photons and neutrinos in a parallel universe, and not in a bulging file in Canary Wharf.

The Artful Tax Dodger, Dave King,  grasped the Sevco nettle and stated that he would arrange for Rangers to be sisted from liquidation. Of course he was lying, as we have come to expect from The Mendacious One.

I exclusively revealed that the career criminal sold his financial services division. Micromega Malfeasance, for a low eight figure sum. There are those, notably Walter Smith, who bullied referees with shock & awe phlegm-filled barrages, who believe that King should lose another £10m of his ill-gotten gains in the resurrection of the renascent club which has not soared like a Phoenix from the ashes. If truth be told Warburton’s team are more analagous to a dead Norwegian Blue. The Going For 55   Mantra is so limp that it joined Joe Garner in A&E.

However David Low, who was instrumental in the Fergus McCann intervention that thwarted David Murray’s plan, via his B.O.S.flunkies, to put Celtic out of business, has urged caution  Mr. Low asserts that should RIFC/TRFC spend money that they don’t have in an attempt to arrest Celtic’s 10-in-a-row ambitions, they risk driving the Sevco hearse off a cliff. From my perspective it’s more likely that Mike Ashley will be wearing a top hat and funereal tails. A cynic could argue that this is precisely what King is attempting to engineer. Poking sticks at a Billionaire is rarely the precursor to a positive outcome.

The imbalance of this tug of war is that the majority of Rangers fans are not interested in jam tomorrow. They want their preserve today. As they look at Celtic buying promising young players and look on as Warburton gets more knock backs than a wild-eyed gypsy with body odour, they are beginning to form the opinion that they have been sold a pup. The smart play would be to engage in a three- year development plan to put a spoke in Celtic’s wheels. Someone like Alan Pardew would fit the bill, as he could bring some promising prospects with him. The Warburton/Weir axis has run its course. Stopping Celtic should not be entrusted to a football ingenue.

The Loan Rangers

Prior to publishing this article I take pause to acknowledge that this site will have earned 9,000,000 hits by midnight tonight, which is no mean feat for one man in exile. However this site’s success would not be possible without the support of my generous sponsors, the readers, and their ever eloquent comments that as I write are fast approaching 24,000. We have come a long way since a couple of rag – tag Rangers fans commented on my first blog. Here’s to the next 9m hits and 50,000 comments.

All conflations fit into one of two major categories: “congruent” conflations and “incongruent” conflations. Incongruent conflation occurs when the root expressions do not mean the same thing, but share a common word or theme. For example Emerson Hyndman is known to shave of a morning. Andrea Pirlo also favours a beard trim. Other than this and the basic ablutions of Homo Sapiens  they have nothing in common. Maybe Andrea Pirlo’s number twos are what Kevin Bridges refers to as ‘wee ghosties‘ and hit the u-bend like a skeleton bobsleigh on the Cresta run; whereas Emerson, benefitting from the World Class breakfasts at Auchenhowie , is in and out of the traps with the speed of a downhill racer with dysentery. Even my improbably far-fetched Winter Sports ablutions connection would be perfectly acceptable at the SMSM. They would turn tricks to solicit the blue pound.

The Level 5 Squirrel, Sevcon 1, is airborne. The loans must be ramped up to deflect from the conspicuous absence of King’s £30m. King promised gold but provided Caramac wrappers.

In popular culture, identities are sometimes intentionally conflated. In the early 2000s, the popular American actors Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez were dating, and the tabloid press referred to them playfully as a third entity, Bennifer.

Should we refer to Emerson Hyndman as PishPirlo or maybe Emeritus of Pishery?

No-one does humorous conflation better than Keith Jackson at the Rectum (Real Arseholes Read The Rectum).   

Keith had John Toral conflated with Christiano Ronaldo. Toral was on loan at Granada, who were slated to play Real Madrid. This gave rise to Jackson’s infamous:

Rangers must wait until I play Ronaldo.

However this University of Pishery doctorate dissertation did not pass muster when Toral was left on the bench and was last seen applying WD 40 to his knees.

The following headline was ready for publication under Jackson’s byline:

Jota to give Brown his jotters.

But sadly his alliterative squirrel had the appeal of a soiled toilet brush when Jota told Warburton to go polish his own turds as he was heading back to Brentford. Have the facsimile club sank so low that Brentford is preferred to Rangers?  Was a ‘haddock’  fish supper and a bottle of Irn Bru not up to Jota’s tapas standards? Rumours that Warburton flew with Jet Airways so that Jota could ‘jet in’ are probably unfounded.

The gap is 19 points going on 22. The laughter at Celtic Park could be composed into a 1922 Overture.  At times like this, who better to turn to than The Cardigan.

Walter would have King spend as much as possible to prevent the calamity of 10 in a row. Smith’s EBT fuelled juggernaut delivered 9 in a row with bursts of dual contracts nitrous oxide cheating. But then what’s a little subterfuge with friends like Jim Farry who was rumoured to drive his car and  masturbate using a Masonic grip. I believe he had a degree of auto-erotic satisfaction.

Sadly Walter, Uncle Dave is as bent as a counterfeit ten bob note. How he managed to sell Micromega Malfeasance beggars belief, but now that he has trousered the readies there’s more chance of him investing in Rangers than the Bishop of Scotland engaging in some ad hoc benediction at The Louden Arms (Real Paramilitaries Drink at The Louden).

Ten in a row is not only possible, it’s highly probable. Celtic are a ‘Harmony of the Seas’ supercruiser, whereas Rangers are a King’s Park pedalo powered by Oscar ‘I was bursting for a Greyfriar’s M’Lady’ Pistorius’ stumps.

 

 

 

New Media

The pressures on social media are often as onerous as they are in the traditional print genre.  Most organs are vehicles for ‘above the line’ marketing. This is readily apparent in titles such as Metro and The Evening Standard which are free at the point of distribution. There is a premium to be paid for the quality journalism which is a feature of English broadsheets, but with one exception I cannot for the life of me fathom why one would choose The Herald or Scotsman in preference to The Times, Telegraph or Guardian. This exception is sports coverage, which so lags behind social media in terms of quality that it’s fast becoming redundant.

Sky provides 24/7 rolling sports news. Social media can take this rolling news and provide faster and superior analysis than what passes for copy at the SMSM. The SMSM is feeding from social media. The fat cat hacks are now picking up the crumbs from an intellectually rich social media table.

This year has seen the demise of Scotzine after ten years. Andy Muirhead broke the story on Whyte’s real background, while Traynor and Jackson at The Rectum were continuing to pump the PR pish down the throats of the oh so grateful gullibillies. Muirhead’s exclusive piqued Phil Macgiollabhain’s interest and to this day the Donegal-based journalist is considered by many to be the go-to guy on the Rangers narrative.

No discussion on sports social media would be complete without considering the two leading lights of Paul Brennan at Celtic Quick News and James Forrest at The Celtic Blog and On Fields of Green.  All three of these excellent titles derive significant income from advertising. The Celtic Blog is owned by Snack Media. They orchestrate the advertising on this site and share the income on a 50/50 basis. All three titles don’t require the PayPal support that is the life blood of this site and my fellow FBA award winner Phil Macgiollabhain.

The Celtic demographic is well served by these titles and others such as E-Tims, Kerrydale Street and new kid on the block, Celtic News Now. The latter retweets my articles. I’m  very grateful for their efforts to take my blogs to a wider audience. An audience that is fast approaching 5,000 followers on Twitter. My output, and that of my informed and eloquent contributors, on average generates north of 30,000 hits on any given day. I’m inordinately proud of my comments section. I spend countless hours moderating articles to maintain the quality and to weed out the haters, the latest of which called himself Don Ashian and showed an unhealthy interest in fellow Klan target, The Mensch. The Mensch is my right hand man. I don’t read the bile of the blue blogs as they are inordinately inferior to the aforementioned titles, but I am aware of a campaign to discredit him. Those engaging in this black propaganda have to be weeded out one by one.

I can see the attraction of exclusively writing articles, which is the case with The Clumpany. This site, which was shortlisted by the FBA for two successive years, specialises in biting satire at its best. I don’t openly follow anyone on Twitter as any choice made would be used by the haters to discredit me.

The focus of this article is The Scottish Football Monitor which has been running for five years. Very few online sites break even, but at the SFM their business model does not lend itself to fiscal prudence. Why do they spend £5,400 per annum on an office? Why do they pick up the tab for a telephone line? Do they anticipate that reporters will call them up with tit-bits that their sub-editors refuse to print?  I get the distinct impression that this cost base, which is paid for by their 1314 subscribers, is ego-driven.

If every one of their subscribers paid as little as £5 per month, their income of £78,840  would be close to what Keith Jackson picks up at The Rectum ( Real Arseholes Read The Rectum.) Somewhat surprisingly their income is nothing like this. They are currently engaged in yet another campaign to raise £1,200 to pay for their embryonic podcast ambitions, and to pay for other costs including their hosted internet service. This sum is the equivalent of a line item marked moderation. Are they charging their subscribers for the time they spend moderating comments?

The SFM site earns less than £1,000 per annum from advertising which speaks volumes of its low traffic. One of the sites I mentioned in my prologue to this piece earns circa £36,000 from advertising, despite generating fewer hits than CQN.

The SFM site was the victim of a cyber attack. How secure do their subscribers feel? Are they concerned that their identities and bank details could be in the hands of the klan? Annual income at the SFM has dropped to just over £10,000 which is circa £1,000 shy of their outlay. With 4 articles per annum are they good value for £11,000?

The SFM is a single issue site. Scottish Football is refracted through the prism of this issue. This is seen as a strength by many, but to my mind it prohibits following lines of inquiry into other areas of interest. The SFM is stuck on the same LNS/Harper McLeod/Ogilvie/RTC groove. Only a handful of their 1314 members pass comment. These are mostly retired individuals with too much time on their hands.

This site is run by Big Pink, a retired schoolteacher, who treats his readers like errant schoolboys. He perceives his remit to be ‘The Keeper of The Truth.’ Is there  a Holy Grail containing Christ’s Blood at the office of the SFM which gives them the authority to be so dismissive of my site?

Some of their most gnarled bitter old trolls such as Homunculus, hang on my every word so that he can criticise it, while Easyjambo runs a forensic eye on my calculations. Get a life guys. If you have so much time on your hands, why not start your own blog. Let me know when you achieve 9m hits.

Their aged demographic and one issue focus will be their undoing. Another factor in their decline is the dominance of Celtic supporters in their ranks. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that Big Pink, Trisidium and regular contributor John Clark are all Celtic supporters. Brennan and Forrest do Celtic better.

Bella Caledonia, an online publication with a pro-independence editor and constituency, has run its course. It hopes to find a saviour so that it can cover the second coming of a referendum. At the SFM one could be mistaken that they are awaiting the second coming of Jesus Christ at their £5,400 office. Should he call to set up an appointment with The Holy Trinity at the SFM?

The Emperor’s New Clothes

The Emperor’s New Clothes is a short tale by Hans Christian Andersen about two weavers who promise an emperor a new suit of clothes that they say is invisible to those who are unfit for their positions, stupid, or incompetent. When the Emperor parades before his subjects in his new clothes, no one dares to say that they don’t see any suit of clothes on him for fear that they will be seen as “unfit for their positions, stupid, or incompetent”. 

Are the SMSM wary of being deemed unfit, stupid and incompetent when they declare that the team playing in 32 Red sponsored strips is Rangers continued?

FIFA, SPFL, SFA, ECA, even Advertising Standards Authority, all recognise Rangers as same club.” Graham Ruthven – Twitter.

Mr Ruthven is a freelance football writer with a deft line on football in the Middle East. One would have thought he could have confined himself to the plight of Palestinian football where a wall pass takes on an entirely new meaning; or to examine why Israel participate in UEFA  competitions. He could even have looked at the corruption behind Qatar’s successful World Cup bid and followed the money all the way to numbered accounts in Swiss francs. An interesting article would be one where he followed a line of inquiry on the following topic:

‘Having difficulty qualifying for the World Cup? Don’t despair. For a mere CHF 5,000,000 you can qualify as hosts.’

However, Mr Ruthven, who lists STV and The Guardian on his resume, decided to toss his hat into the ring of liquidation denial which is fast becoming Scotland’s national sport. I have dealt with the prosaic facts of the matter in granular detail, but no matter how much I can lead a flogged horse to water, I cannot make it drink.

The Trading Style that is Rangers continues in ethereal form. For some the belief in a continued Rangers is an article of faith:

Real Rangers Men believe in our unbroken history from 1872.”

I recall a contributor to this site who asserted that in time Charles Green’s Sevco Scotland, trading as The Rangers Football Club, would be accepted as Rangers. As one enters a fifth year of liquidation denial the impetus to expose this convenient mythology remains unabated. TRFC are a new club followed by the fans of the old club. It’s simple to comprehend, unless you have an agenda.

Despite Peter Lawwell’s statement that Celtic are a standalone club who can sustain itself irrespective of a Rangers team playing at Ibrox, the cash registers at the Celtic box office do not chime with his rhetoric. The majority of CFC fans love nothing more than putting Rangers to the sword. The current iteration, the renascent Rangers, are a pin cushion facsimile of the old club. If beating Rangers is your bag, then invest in a hold-all as the victories will come thick and fast. I anticipate three more pin cushion games this season, with the third in The Scottish Cup Final, if the SFA can swing it.

Should Ashley prevail in March an administration event will be inevitable. King conned the investors in RIFC just as easily as he duped the Rangers fans. He had absolutely no intention of over investing in Rangers. He merely wanted to bathe in the Upper Clyde, his personal Ganges, and wash away his criminal past. However the SFA unraveled his new tunic when he failed their ‘fit and proper’ sniff test. King is bailing out. Douglas Park is spitting blood at King for not stepping up to the plate. King, Murray and WATP were not present at Ibrox on Hogmanay. Ashley has King bang to rights. A £5m hit could not be accommodated. Murray approached Brian Kennedy to offer him King’s 14.57% at a premium. Kennedy, who can read the runes just as easily as I can, will sit tight and await insolvency, which will almost certainly occur some time between March and the close season. If March, a points deduction will give Warburton a ready-made excuse for his team’s abject showing.

Mr. Ruthven has stepped into a minefield. The only member of his list who can see The Emperor’s New Clothes is Neil Doncaster at the SPFL. Doncaster, who sells Scottish Football to Sky Sports on the basis of four ‘Old Firm’ games per season, has skin in this game. One does not require an MBA to see his agenda.

As for the ASA, Audheid’s succinct response was one of his best:

ASA have as much authority on subject as Griegs to proclaim on the Hadron Colliders efficacy as an oven.”

The SFA have never gone on the record to proclaim Charles Green’s basket of assets as Rangers continued. They have treated TRFC as a new club in their Scottish Cup qualifying games. Their actions speak louder than words.

There are so many rebuttals to the continuation mythology that I could write several thousand words on the matter, or include just one photograph of Andrea Traverso:

The ‘incoming’ for the liquidation deniers will be a blitzkrieg. Next up will be the coefficient blues. Rangers centenary year triumph in the 1972 Cup Winners Cup Final will count for nought in the coefficient of TRFC. UEFA’s perspective is that TRFC is a new club, and as country coefficients are being phased out, should Rangers participate in UEFA tournaments in 2017/2018 they will do so with a duck egg for a coefficient.

However this egg might be all over their faces should UEFA take a look at how TRFC have ridden a coach and horses through their FFP regulations. A punitive fine and one year suspension could be the sting in the tail.

From where I’m standing, King is bollock naked. I’m evidently not made of the right stuff for the SMSM.