I’m sure there are people all over England wondering why their manager is apologising for anti-IRA chants by England fans last night. Someone likely pointed out to Roy Hodgson that his fans were breaking the law in Scotland by doing so, hundreds, if not thousands, could be criminalised this morning.
Their names and addresses are known to the football authorities, the match was televised and the chanting received widespread media coverage. Police Scotland were all over the ground and had the England fans surrounded.
All this took place in front of the First Minister, whose government decided laws against bigotry and sectarianism left them unable to “equalise” fans of all colours, most of whom never chant bigoted or sectarian words.
Alex Salmond left the stage caring nothing that the police have no interest in applying his law on this occasion. It wasn’t designed to criminalise the English, it was to criminalise Celtic fans. If the Offensive Behaviour Act can be flouted in front of the nation, the police and the First Minister, without censure or action, it is an absurd nonsense. The SNP government has refused to debate a review into the Act, never mind repeal it. They are defending the indefensible.
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moonbeams wd. wee oscar’s our bhoy and kano’s our mhan. the vow – critically rebuked by 45% of this fine nation. @ 13:00
EmbraMike
Enjoy your sun soaked trip to Malta. Watch you don’t get mistaken for Popeye on set now!
Easy mistake when your accidentally covered in Olive Oil ,
IamwhatIam CSC back for the AGM
Tom
No that’s not what is being asked for.
These examples are being used to highlight the need for the act to be scrapped and how young Celtic supporters are being criminalised whilst other populations are not
That’s our Scottish Government for you.
Tom McLaughlin
I think we are asking that the law either be changed or enforced with some consistency. A ridiculous state of affairs for us all to be in.
Burghbhoy & The Honest Cover-up –
Thanks for that.
Ohits
Great news mhate.Glass raised for Archie.best of health and happiness to all :-)
HH
John Reid among some of the Giants who where on the Celtic board, a great man, and loves this club., only my opinion of course.
Malky mc kay appointed to wigan
HH
where do you even start on doctor death being “a great man”.
Embra Mike
You might recognise this tale:
The Maltese Apocrypha
Part 1: Johnny Rocks and the 107
The 5 door Peugeot 107 “small city car” is one of identical triplets, born of the B-Zero collaboration between Peugeot-Citroen and Toyota, each parent taking one of the newborns and giving it the family name. Thus the Toyota Aygo and the Citroen C1 are the siblings of the 107, separated at birth at the purpose built TPCA car plant in Kolin, Czech Republic, each differently labelled but carrying the same genes.
Like its siblings, the 107 comes with Toyota’s 1KR-FE engine as standard, a straight 3 cylinder, 996cc unit delivering 68 horse power at 6000 revs, and 70 lb.ft of torque at 3600 revs. With such a little motor, fuel economy is optimised, with a claimed 65.69mpg combined cycle, meaning the cautious driver might eke out 500 odd miles from a single fill of its tiny 35 litre fuel tank.
While the Aygo is finished to a higher standard, and the C1 is the cheapest of the three in the showroom, Peugeot dealers are better provided with support from head office, and therefore tend to be more willing to cut prices to shift cars. Accordingly, the 107 is the most popular of the 3 amongst fleet managers and retirees alike, with over 100,000 units sold each year since launch in 2005.
——-
Gwanni ‘Johnny Rocks’ Scirocca, from a young age known affectionately to family as “ta’ Xewwiex” – The Troublemaker – is something of an entrepreneurial legend on the island of Malta. As with all legends, what is known of Johnny Rocks is somewhat shrouded, but records show that he grew up in the Paola district of Valetta in the 60s, learning the tourism trade at his father’s kerbside café in the docks area, and earning pennies and the odd shilling from table tips.
Hustling tourists from the cruise ships that docked in Valetta harbour, the seven year old ta’ Xewwiex first made trouble selling bottles of Coca Cola to parched tourists around the Barrakka Gardens. While few customers complained about paying a shilling for a cold Coke, the ruse was rumbled when he was caught knocking stock off the back of a delivery truck. Another scam involved selling ‘lottery’ tickets, the winner getting dinner for 4 at his father’s place, rumbled when a wise ass American bought every ticket and actually turned up at the dive with his wife and two companions to claim the prize. More Trouble.
Of course the café couldn’t contain young Johnny Rocks’ enterprising nature for long, and at 16 he launched his first business, a mini-cruise wheeze that offered tourists (for 10 shillings) the unique chance to view the historic city of Valetta and Fort Saint Elmo from the water. Being 16 of course, he was not permitted to obtain the necessary Boat Master’s licence, and matters ended somewhat dramatically when the “Scirocca Breeze” – a patched up 18 foot traditional wooden Kajjik powered by a clapped out 3 horsepower 2 stroke outboard – was caught in the wake of the harbour dredger, necessitating a Coast Guard emergency rescue for the 11 paying passengers dumped into the water. The whereabouts and identity of the boat’s young pilot was never formally established, although the boat was traced back to a salvage yard in Mgarr, a condemned breaker that had been bought for 30 shillings cash by “some kid from Valetta” earlier in the season.
And so the legend of Johnny Rocks was born. Did Johnny Rocks go down with his boat? Was he drowned? Certainly no body was ever retrieved from the harbour water, and no funeral service was ever held. Business at the Scirocca family’s café continued as usual, although conspicuously without the help of ta’ Xewwiex.
From that point, Johnny Rocks’ career developed in tandem with the growth of Malta as a tourism destination in the 80s, a series of pubs, clubs and restaurants opening and closing in quick succession, leaving behind a string of bemused creditors, frustrated landlords and bewildered city officials. While it was widely believed that Johnny Rocks ran the operation, his name appeared on no official register. Indeed, there is no trace of Gwanni Scirocca in the public records since his leaving school at age 15. He was invisible. He had, in effect, disappeared the afternoon the Scirocca Breeze capsized.
In the early days, Johnny Rocks was able to use his contacts at Farsons Brewery in Mriehel to obtain back door supplies in return for cash and assorted favours, but as the business grew, the stock losses at the brewery became impossible to hide, resulting in 2 warehousemen spending some time in Corradino Correctional Facility, coincidentally just round the corner from the Scirocca family home in Paola.
With perhaps a dozen pubs and clubs rumoured to be in his growing chain, and back door supplies cut off for the time being, Johnny Rocks became a leading exponent of “closed chain” trading, buying supplies on credit through one of his ‘wholesale outlets’ and reselling on open credit at eye-watering margins to each of his myriad retail outlets in turn. Each outlet thus ran at a loss on paper, but cash poured in through the tills, and was banked in Pozzallo, Sicily, each week, a mere 75 minutes away by speed boat, but safely out of the reach of the Maltese tax authorities. As the credit line ran out, the wholesaler would file for insolvency, and the operation continued in turn through another wholesale front, primed with a good trading record for the purpose. The introduction of VAT in Malta in 1995 provided a handy 15% leverage on trade.
Matters became interesting in 1998 when Henrik Nielsen, a bank clerk in Ballerup, Denmark, disputed the validity of a 830,000 Lira back-dated VAT demand received in the post from the Maltese VAT Department. Nielsen claimed (correctly) that he was not and never had been the owner of the Mardi Gras nightclub in St Julians, and indeed, had only ever set foot in Malta during a 2 week holiday in 1995.
Insolvency investigations into one suspected Johnny Rocks wholesaler by the office of the Director General and Commissioner of VAT found that the licensee for each debtor pub and restaurant was a foreigner, a different person for each shop, none of whom were resident on the island bar a short vacation around the time of the licence application, during which a passport was lost. Jennifer Woods from Leicester; Wilhelm Koller from Zurich; Rune Lien from Oslo and so many others, each the unwitting licensee of a pub or club in Malta, connected only insofar as at one time or another, they had each stayed at the Blue Horizon hotel in Sliema, and there lost their passport.
By the turn of the millennium Johnny Rocks was in his forties and in his prime. Pubs, clubs, restaurants, taxis, properties; business was booming. He knew the tourism market, and he understood human nature. Wherever there were tourists in Malta there was a Johnny Rocks enterprise helping them spend their money. There was however one remaining itch Johnny Rocks had never scratched, an operation that he had quietly dreamed of for many years, in his view the height of tourism enterprise: Car Hire.
The car hire business is a tough racket, with huge depreciation and slim margins in a heavily price sensitive market. The key in the standard car hire business model is vehicle utilisation: A car doesn’t earn any income sitting depreciating on the car lot, and thus competition between the major rental brands is fierce. The big rental companies fight for discounts from the manufacturers, they fight for prominence in the airport arrivals hall, for ranking on Google, and for customer loyalty. Price-critical and capital-intensive, you need deep pockets and a sharp mind to compete.
Johnny Rocks knew that in order to crack the market he needed to find something new, something different, something the big guys couldn’t touch. He found it by reverse engineering human nature and came up with the notion of Disloyalty. Johnny Rocks knew that, for a local car hire firm, tourists were a strictly buy-once market. There is no prospect for repeat business and therefore no penalty for customer disservice.
While Avis, Enterprise, Hertz and the rest need to maintain a consistent level of service to match customer expectation the world over, the local firm needs just one hire per customer, and beyond a friendly smile, screw the added value. For the local guy, it’s all about price, and moreover, about margin – the difference between the depreciation of the vehicle and the revenue it generates.
Johnny Rocks realised that he needed two key things for his car hire business to succeed: The best Price to get the hires in the first place; and the best Margins to profit from. His genius was in figuring that one out, and in 2006 Johnny Rocks launched the Goldstar Cars business.
It is well known that Michael O’Leary first discovered the low cost airline business model at Southwest Airlines in the USA in the 1990s, but he got the polish for his brass neck only after hiring a car from the Goldstar Cars’ desk in Luqa airport in 2007. O’Leary’s business approach involves a relentless pursuit of cost cutting, and it was only natural that, when visiting Malta on a business trip, his PA would book a car with the cheapest rental outfit she could find on the internet: Goldstar Cars.
Initially, O’Leary couldn’t understand how a small, local outfit could offer a 7 day rental for less than €10 per day. The depreciation alone on a typical hatchback is more than that after all. He didn’t take long to figure it out, and what Michael O’Leary learned from Goldstar Cars made Ryanair one of the most profitable airlines in the world.
——
And so, here I sit in Marsalforn, supping a cold Cisk lager in the shade under the awning of a Gozitan bar, a Johnny Rocks bar perhaps, the vivid colours of the moored Kajjiks reflected in the clear waters of the small harbour in front of me. The light breeze is welcome as I type out this little story while my rented Peugeot 107 sits across the road, heating inexorably towards fusion ignition temperature as the southern Med sun beats down on its black paintwork, its black dashboard, its black upholstery.
Why black? Who would buy a black car in Malta where the sun shines for more than 300 days per year, and the average summer daytime temperature is 87 degrees? Moreover, who in Malta, in their right mind, would buy just such a black car with no air conditioning? Why, Johnny Rocks of course!
It transpires that in February Peugeot inadvertently shipped a consignment of 100 black, no frills, base model 107s to Malta. Being right hand drive, the only other markets in Europe for such a car are the UK and Ireland, their original intended destination, the cost to reship being huge. Johnny Rocks caught wind of the Peugeot flotsam, made an offer, and took the entire consignment. If you see a black Peugeot 107 in Malta this summer, odds on it’s a Goldstar 107.
By bidding a fraction above the competition for ranking order on the internet price comparison sites, and undercutting the prices of the Luqa Airport based multi-nationals, Goldstar Cars is able to place every vehicle for hire virtually every week to cost conscious tourists like me. Who can resist a 5 door hatchback for €140 for a fortnight when the best of the rest is €220? Valetta is a small city, what better than the 107, a small city car after all, to scoot about in?
Of course, as I found out when I collected the car, €140 euros is just the cost of the car hire…
“Insurance Sir, which option would you prefer? The basic CDW option included in your reservation, or the full cover?”
“I’ll go for the basic option please.”
“Very well Sir. I’ll need a deposit of one thousand euros.”
“eh..uh… WHIT?”
“Yes sir, a €1000 deposit to cover any damage you might cause to the car. We’ll re-credit your account within 3 weeks of you returning the car undamaged”
“€1000? Three weeks?”
“Yes Sir. €1000. We promise to refund your deposit within 3 weeks of you returning the car, provided there is no damage.”
“And what constitutes damage?”
“It covers pretty much everything Sir, from collisions to small dents and scratches. We give you the car in perfect condition, and you just return it to us the same way. Otherwise, we use the deposit to repair the car.”
“To hell with that! I’ll take the full cover.”
“Very well Sir, that’ll be an additional twelve euros. Per day. So that’s an extra €168 altogether, plus the small €150 deposit. And of course, the car comes with a full tank of fuel. Just bring it back empty.”
“Not full to full? I always do full to full. Everyone does full to full.”
“No Sir, we only do full to empty. Just bring it back empty. So that’s €140 for the car hire, €168 for the full insurance cover, €150 deposit, and €75 for the fuel.
“€75 for the fuel? SEVENTY FIVE EUROS! FOR THE FUEL! The bloody car only has a 35 litre fuel tank. That’s… that’s… that’s more than €2 per litre!”
“Yes Sir. So that a total €533. Your card please Sir.”
Michael O’Leary eat your heart out.
Post Script
Unleaded fuel in Malta is around €1.45 per litre this week. The 35 litres in my hired Peugeot 107 was sold to me at €2.14 per litre, almost 50% mark up on the forecourt price.
Moreover, the small island of Malta has just 140 miles of coastline. Given the efficiency of the 107’s tiny engine, it seems possible to circumnavigate the island three and a half times in a Peugeot 107 on a single tank of fuel. I’m trying it. Any fuel remaining in the car will be resold to the next hire, as the last hire’s doubtless was to me. If there’s a quarter tank left, Goldstar Cars make another €20 on the deal and clever Johnny Rocks has just doubled his margin. That car’s not going back with anything more than the smell of petrol in the tank.
At least I have full insurance, and perhaps, unwittingly of course, I have been a little less careful a driver than usual. I must confess that in the past week or so I’ve grounded the car 3 times going too fast on Malta’s quaint, unsurfaced back roads, kerbed it twice, been rather clumsy with the supermarket trolley, and used the bumpers to pretty good effect while parking in Malta’s congested town centres.
The poor clutch has been thrashed on the tight hill climbs up to Bingemma and Had-Dingli, the engine hammered relentlessly, the gears crunched up and down and the front tyres spun to the smoke point on the hot, slick tarmac.
To be fair, the wee car has held up pretty well, but I’m not finished yet. I’m damned if I’m going to let Johnny Rocks resell what remains in the fuel tank to the next schmuck who books a Goldstar deal online, fuel I paid Goldstar 50% over the odds for in the first place. My final stop then, before returning the car to the airport, will be to the Scirocca & Sons Home and Garden Emporium in Hal Qormi, to buy a siphon.
Troublemaker? Roond ye, Johnny Rocks. Right roond ye.
Author’s Notes:
This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons, living, dead or legendary is entirely coincidental.
The People of Malta may be unfairly maligned by this tale. To be perfectly clear, in my experience they are warm in their welcome and generous in their hospitality. Perfect hosts.
The same people on here bitching and moaning about racism and secterianism are the same people who voted NO,supporting the establishment that wouldnt employ people in this country based on their place of birth or religion…..confused so am ur….
what payrise did the westminster elite get ?
see them, see you no voters,
thats your mates that is.
That’ll be the government with the support of Celtic FC and Celtic FC’s now deceased solicitor at the time produced and formulated a law.
Lest we forget.
MWD said AYE. No voters have a nice long walk to celebrate their success every year on the 12th of July.
tonydonnelly67
We all see things differently.
His appointment had the effect of making me seriously consider walking away from the club I’ve supported for over 50 years.
His involvement in Blair’s Iraq fiasco, tarnished any credibility the man had … just my opinion.
well said dave.
exactly.
MWD said AYE. No voters have a nice long walk to celebrate their success every year on the 12th of July.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This would be the walk that the SNP have no problem with right?
Moonbeams WD. Wee Oscar’s our Bhoy and Kano’s our mhan. The Vow – Critically Rebuked by 45% of this fine nation.
13:51 on
19 November, 2014
Have you looked at the records of how this went through parliament, they’re available on the Govt website?
Celtic were consulted and voiced their opposition to the law as proposed, it’s on the record.
Glasgow Dave
I’m talking about the celtic supporter, not his politics, his and your politics are none of my businesses, and I’m not being a smart arse, it’s just the way I see it.
Kitalba
Whataboutery can be used to justify or excuse.
I think Paul used it in the former role.
If it is used as an excuse it falls as it simply says one is as bad as the other which may be true but is no justification.
Again I think Paul has not used it as an excuse.
Things you learn from a Mojo magazine left behind in a pal s B and B .
First record John Lydon bought ————
Kenny Rogers -Ruby ,Dont Take Your L.ove to Town .
John has ” always loved Status Quo.”
To his credit he also loves Magma ( just like me and Steve ” interesting ” Davis.
BGX,
That very establishment you rail against is represented by the SNP, who are the approved choice of the overwhelming number of Yes voters.
glasgowdave
13:52 on 19 November, 2014
tonydonnelly67
We all see things differently.
His appointment had the effect of making me seriously consider walking away from the club I’ve supported for over 50 years.
His involvement in Blair’s Iraq fiasco, tarnished any credibility the man had … just my opinion.
…………………………………
Did living under the rule of all these warmongers and evil men make you go and live in another country ruled by honest men and women?
Or was it just the club you supported as a boy that would lose you?
Or do you live in Glasgow.
Just asking.
Nothing good has ever come from having a strong opinion on anything…
Or maybe not, who’s to say?
The DR knows it was HUNS in the crowd at celtic park chanting the usual bile, and so do the cops.
And while we’re on the topic of the OBAFTC Act…
The Maltese Apocrypha
Part 2: Parrot Fashion
Preface
Uniquely amongst European jurisdictions, Scotland recently introduced a law that blurs the distinction between what constitutes a criminal offence and what gives rise to personal offence. The Offensive Behaviour at Football and Threatening Communications (Scotland) Act 2012 passed into statute the concept that a criminal offence is committed if a person acts in a manner “that a reasonable person would be likely to consider offensive”. The law is applicable only in the domain of football, and an offence is committed whether or not persons likely to be offended by the behaviour in question actually witness it.
An unintended consequence of the new law is an emerging phenomenon whereby football fans listen intently to live radio and television broadcasts of matches involving rival teams, and attempt to identify songs or chants that they might claim to be offended by. Thus, Scottish Football is now characterised in part by a parallel, less noble competition in which grown men compete to find offence in the songs and chants of supporters of rival teams at matches they are not themselves attending.
In the process, defining what is and what ought to be offensive has degenerated into a puerile game of tit-for-tat between rival supporters, police and prosecutors, played out in the criminal courts in front of increasingly vexed Sheriffs.
The working class game of football that gave rise to the culture of “Come on over here if you think you’re hard enough” has spawned a generation of supporters seemingly so in touch with their sensitive side as to be the spiritual heirs of the National Viewers’ and Listeners’ Association.
In this context…
Parrot Fashion
One of the charms of holidaying in Gozo is living cheek by jowl with the Gozitans, lovely people. This is by no means a purpose built package holiday resort, rather more a Mediterranean Arran, with the beauty of the island enjoyed by tourist and resident alike.
Thus our apartment block, overlooking the terraced harbour of the old fishing village of Qbajjar, in addition to providing holiday accommodation for our family – me, my wife and son – is home to number of local families: parents and kids; fishermen and insurance brokers; cats and parrots.
Yes, parrots. Or more accurately, a parrot and a mynah bird, who live in their own cages on the balcony opposite us.
Each evening they like to sing and whistle. Whether to themselves, each other, or the rest of the block is not known, but sing and whistle they do, and some fine tunes at that.
The parrot will start the performance with a wolf whistle. The mynah bird responds with a verse of “Happy Birthday”. The parrot then goes into a segue of exotic whistles and caws, the mynah upstaging him with the chorus from My World by Tim Kay – presumably his owner is an avid viewer of ‘Jamie Oliver at Home’.
The whole repertoire goes on for about an hour each evening before the pair of them finish up the night by taking requests.
Over recent evenings, my son has taken to requesting the chorus of “With Cat-like Tread” from the classic Gilbert and Sullivan opera Pirates of Penzance. He’s got rather eclectic taste in music you understand, notwithstanding that this popular tune was adopted decades ago by supporters of Celtic FC as a club anthem, the very club the boy supports.
Of course, he has had to spend some time each evening whistling the chorus across the yard such that the birds could pick up the tune, but sure enough, after 4 evenings of dedicated tutoring, and to great delight, the wee yellow billed mynah bird picked it up and carried it off pitch perfectly.
Saturday is changeover day in Gozo, and a new family arrived on holiday at the apartments, a Scots couple with their teenage son and daughter. It’s a long trek from Scotland, an early morning departure for a 3½ hour flight followed by a coach ride across Malta, before the ferry to Gozo and onwards to Qbajjar. We had spotted the new family arriving late in the afternoon, hauling their cases and bags from the main road up the narrow cobbled boat path to the reception, and it was clear that the combination of travel fatigue and the Mediterranean summer heat had taken its toll on our new friends.
While the kids were eager to drop their bags and get onto the beach, the parents looked somewhat less energetic. The man’s polo shirt had apparently shrunk, a middle aged spread bursting out below a top that was a duotone butterfly print rendered in pure sweat. Harsh words were sent in the direction of the kids, by now in the sea, bags abandoned on the boat path.
His wife was in little better mood: Dragging her case across the cobbles, heels and wheels clacking like errant castanets, her face pink and puffy following the long journey and the stuffy coach ride. The humidity had clearly taken its toll on the tangle of seaweed that was the poor woman’s hair. It was impossible not to feel for her.
That evening, while enjoying our by now customary aperitifs in the harbour-side bar below the apartment, the newcomers came in and took up an adjacent table. It was clear that a couple of hours in their air conditioned apartment, a nap, perhaps a glass of wine, had quite restored the pair of them. Indeed, she was utterly transformed, the very vision of East Kilbride elegance in a printed summer dress and slingback sandals, the beautifully shaped hair framing a perfectly made up face. Thank god for GHDs. What an effort. What a result. Brava!
She and I exchanged a polite smile as her husband ordered their drinks from Benard, our charming host. At the time I made nothing of his odd reaction to being served a Magners cider rather than the Dry Blackthorn he had requested. Perhaps the hot Maltese sun and cold Cisk lager had dulled my instincts. Perhaps I had left them far behind in Glasgow.
Nevertheless, everything seemed as it ought to be as we supped our drinks and chatted, the turquoise harbour water lapping the stone terraces in front of us. A perfect evening.
On cue, the birds started up, moving through their repertoire of whistles and caws, Happy Birthdays and Jamie Oliver numbers. The newcomers were quite taken by the performance, the two birds receiving great attention and applause from our new friends, each song recognised and whistled along to in turn.
Until…
Until, lapping up the fuss and attention from the audience, the little mynah bird launched into a rousing chorus of “With Cat-like Tread”.
There was a gasp from the next table. A cough. A splutter. A dramatic splatter of cider, followed by a screech, the dreadful screech of a woman ruined. I turned in alarm. The poor dear was covered in her husband’s Magners, the hair devastated, the gargled cider dripping down her face, her makeup melting in the slabber. With her mouth set in a trembling, dumbfounded gape, she looked for all the world as though she had just been dunked head first in the harbour.
It was really rather funny. Indeed my son went off on one, bent over double trying to keep the laughter in. Of course, this set off me and my wife, the pair of us, hands slapped across mouths, choking back the laughter for dear life. To no avail whatsoever. We were, in the vernacular, pishing ourselves.
The infection quickly took hold of the other guests in the bar, the Gozitan fishermen and insurance brokers, the Dutch and the German tourists, parents and children alike, and the whole place rocked with laughter. Poor Benard, waving his serving cloth in vain around the stricken woman, was quite affronted.
The fellow at the next table, recovering from his coughing fit, was now standing, pointing in turn at the bird cage, at his wife and at us: “That!” he exclaimed. “That’s… That’s SECTARIAN!”
It was a curiously sobering moment. I caught my wife’s eye as it slowly dawned on us quite what had occurred. I looked at my boy, then at the mynah bird, and again at my wife. The three of us turned to face the fellow on his feet and his poor, drookit wife, and we simply creased up. Stomach-cramping, table-rattling, knicker-wetting laughter bounced out of the bar and echoed off the harbour buildings around us.
The man’s bewilderment turned to anger, puce faced, finger jabbing anger:
“Look what you’ve done!” he yelled.
“You people. Look what you’ve done!”
“You’ve corrupted a Mynah!”
Ghents,
When is the ‘yes/no – you’re a hun if you voted yes/no you’re a hun if you voted no’ nonsense going to stop on here? Too much moaning and complaining about it.
Clearly, no one is going to change their minds at this point.
Further, it is clear that both sides have a lot to answer for. Neither side is entirely right or blameless.
And most importantly, at least for those on CQN, I tend to give us the benefit of the doubt …. even when I disagree with some posts, I dont assume that means they are wrong, or are a hun…. just tims who see things differently than I do (but want the best for Celtic, and believe that they are doing that).
I like (scratch that … love) a good political debate mixed in with my football (I dont believe that the two can be separated), but this one is wearing even me down ….
Looking forward to the game on Saturday, so I can get back to moaning about our (lack of) midfield. :)
Hail hail
Philbhoy
I’ve had my say on it, and I won’t be turned by anyone else’s thoughts or opinions, you/they have yours I have mine.
“That very establishment you rail against is represented by the SNP, who are the approved choice of the overwhelming number of Yes voters.”
Parkheadcumsalford,
And a good number of no voters too bizarrely enough.
.
Tony D and Kev J.. Tackle England Fans before Scotland game..;-)
https://vine.co/v/OJuO6XhO05M
Summa
BGX
Name those dastardly No voters.
Auldheid
Aye you got me there.
tonydonnelly67
Fair do’s Tony, you’re a better man than me.
I can’t seperate the man from his politics, they define who he is..
Ironically,mine are much the same as his.. but the war corrupted him in my eyes,.
and that’s why i was saddened by his appointment.
HH
Mike in Toronto
Great post bud!
It’s the holy willies on here who get on my tits.
C’MON THE CELTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TonyD67
Keep postin’ buddy!
Has Lustig pulled another hammy?
Tell me you’re jokin’!
Pllllease!!!
Parkheadcumsalford….but not for me…so i dont get your point …
Huv a broke it?
Time to heed wise words from Toronto IMHO.
None of us have shifted an inch since 18 Sep. Have we?
And there may well be another referendum sooner than some think.
A wee rest for now may do us all the world of good.
Reckon?
HH jamesgang
Well Ghents (and ladies)
I’m off court, so will catch you all later.
Cheers,