Amid the general hilarity on Scottish football at the moment I’m sure it’s not escaped Ronny Deila’s attention that we have one of our most important games of the season coming up on Saturday. The league is a marathon without any specific focus, the League Cup final is another huge game, but facing Dundee away is exactly the kind of game a club who are chasing a treble often lose.
It was Dundee who knocked the Aberdeen bandwagon off its tracks. Given half a chance they will do the same to Celtic on Saturday.
Kenny McDowall must have felt a bit humiliated at being told he has to pick players on loan from Newcastle United, although clearly not humiliated enough to tell them to stuff the remainder of his contract.
Llambias’ instruction appears bizarre, but there’s always two sides to each story. If McDowall informed his chief executive that he would not use the players, for reasons other than sporting merit, Llambias may well feel justified in making the instruction.
This public shaming of Llambias, the board, and by extension, Mike Ashley, is another act in a dirty battle. Still, “It’s not personal, Sonny. It’s strictly business”, as Dave King almost said about Ashley yesterday.
Ashley’s men may be robbed of the ability to pick the team after an EGM next month, but he remains able to inflict a lot of ‘assistance towards the club’ before then. If I can paraphrase Tom Hagan, ‘Mr Ashley never asks a second favour once he’s refused the first, understood?’ When personal offence has been taken, sometimes even good business isn’t enough to bring a ruthless patriarch to the table.
When news of the attack on the 10-year-old boy broke on Monday I assumed it would be a matter of hours before the offender was charged. Three days on without news is concerning. It appears that those who associate with people who believe random violence is acceptable and care little about the application on justice – which has nothing to do with any specific policing issue.
Hard cash is now available to anyone with information leading to an arrest. If you can’t report the offender for the sake of the victim, do it for the money. You don’t need to be a witness to report the issue and collect the reward, you just need to know enough to get the ball rolling.
Well done to all who have gotten involved in the appeal to help the victim, especially organiser Rod Lee. Stunning work, Rod.
CQN11 St Patrick’s Dinner, Cup Final weekend, Friday 13 March, at the Kerrydale Suite, Celtic Park, email me for details, celticquicknews@gmail.com
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Kevjungle
You mistrust is based on a false idea.
Mine is based on you using something I told you to have a go at me.
Mine is evidence based.
Yours is in your head. I wish you would keep it there.
And a total embarrassment
Sunny / occasional mega hailstorms – way down south .Stirred from my slumber @ 2.30 am by what sounded like thousands of golfballs bouncing on my roof…
Market this am – 2 Palermo ( who play Inter on Sunday ) supporters talking-
” I ‘ll be disappointed if we don’t win ”
” Yes – gone are the days where I ‘d have a party if we beat them in Milan, these days they are really shit. Can’ t wait to see Dybala v that defence “
HT
Did… DD get sorted for tickets for Dundee got 2 spare.Dont have contact details for him.
Butsy
Have the Sevconians made an apology (of any sort) to the Hearts fan who had the crap kicked out of him?
Will he be invited to be guest of honour at the rescheduled match?
Perhaps his age is against him or is there perhaps another reason?
No answers required.
Oh Kev
Shakes head and walks away
Take care bud.
HH jamesgang
Auldheid
09:39 on 6 February, 2015
______________________
C’mon…yer tuning trivial pursuit into the war of the ages.
Are you still trying to tell me that ‘you’ thought that…MO’N was unaware that…during his tenure at CP…the huns used ebt’s? WTF?
tuning-turning
KEVJ
Way out of order,mate.
Sometimes ye suddenly realise that it is pointless making an effort with people no matter how good your intentions,
kevjungle – cliques are for – masons/knights/witches/monkey-huns et al…
09:39 on 6 February, 2015
Your one sick individual.Fecking low life
Butsy
Yes mate I managed to get 4 in total, 3 from a guy I know and one from your bus. See you tomorrow mate.
Kevj,
A bit of advice….before you criticise someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes.
That way when you criticise them you’re a mile away and you’ve got their shoes.
Gotta go, God bless all Tims
Hamiltontim
09:40 on 6 February, 2015
______________________
Aye…morning to you as well.
You clowns are giving attention to the attention seeker
Wisen up bhoys
Jamesgang
And I thought I was tolerant. :)
lennon’s passion
09:44 on 6 February, 2015
_____________________
Ah dont think its me thats sick…who have I harmed?
Groundhog J = Elmer Fudd!
………….. no idea why anyone converses with the Daily Bowel Movement?
I thought it would be clear to most of us on here that it’s pointless engaging the bitter white knucklers who troll on here…
Today is a new low in trolling on here…
HT and BT tie for post of the day.
Jamesgang you said earlier you “almost always scroll past”.
The word almost is wasted there.
Know what yer problem is…ye cant handle the truth.
It might not be a nice truth but its the truth.
Now…not one of you has considered…how do I know this to be true?
The conceited-clique has spoken…dear, dear.
PF Ayr
I think us clowns can think for ourselves.
If you mean you folk then why not say so?
I ignore him as a rule but after a personal attack on me I reserved the right to respond off blog.
He turned down the offer which speaks volumes as to his lack of character.
I’m going back to ignore as he is clearly unhinged.
OT
Back a 2 is a bit early for most. How about 4ish?
Watching CBBC news round with the wee mhan before school (his) this am.
Item on about Monkeys “drumming” to send messages to their (pri)mates.
I rest my case m’lud. Huns is most defn Monkeys.
It’s amazing how the tone of the blog can be poisoned so quickly, usually by the same Jim Goodwins.
One posts made up shite, and the other, just shite.
Blane this afternoon, all welcome. Even Goodwins!
RICHIE
How about 4ish?
MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!!!!
How about he keeps you a seat,that’s the best offer you’ll get!
Btw,have a guid wee day. Just about offski to start mine.
HT
OK….. Will keep them open for anyone else that may-need them.
see you the tomorrow.
HH.
Kevjungle, yellow card. I cannot have CQN used to make derogatory generalisations about members of a religion.
Please stay away from anything remotely like this and take the antagonism out of your posts or I will pull your account.
BUTSYBHOY
I think GORDYBHOY64 is still looking for one. I’ll mail him to find out.
Also nice to see that there is weather again even though it is in that micro climate of East Kilbride.
HH Jobo
Aye…off yeez pop…live in denial!
Bead-rattlin basturts.
kevjungle – cliques are for – masons/knights/witches/monkey-huns et al…
09:58 on 6 February, 2015
Aye…off yeez pop…live in denial!
Bead-rattlin basturts.
——-
Hun.
I wasn’t going to post this, another one of my daft wee stories set around a Celtic cup final.
Big Jock’s Final Trophy…and my first!
May the 7th 1977. A damp and dull, grey Saturday morning in Lanarkshire. Punk was exploding in London but for a group of ten year old Bhoys in Airdrie, getting propelled around the back of a yellow box-van; Abba’s, ‘Knowing me, Knowing you’ was the song of choice. We had a lot to learn.
It was cup final day and St. Serf’s U’11’s were heading to Whifflet in Coatbridge to face St. Mary’s in our cup final on their ash park. Our preparation wasn’t great due to the tumble dryer effect of being thrown around the van, I reckon three of us had concussion and two had knee knocks prior to kick off. The experienced box-van travellers had huddled together, clutching each other and wrapping their Gola bags around them for some sort of protection. As they did this they were hoping Jazz Burns, our midfield destroyer, who was charging about the van defying the laws of physics, wouldn’t inflict further pain on them. He was much the same in midfield.
This was a huge day for us formative Airdrie Bhoys. We could win our first school cup final in the morning and then we could watch Celtic-live on the television-beat Rangers in the Scottish cup final. St. Mary’s had supposedly won the toss of a coin to decide where the final would be played and their tight red ash pitch was to be our morning Hampden. This didn’t suit us, we were the Monkland’s Magyars, and we preferred grass and our own North Airdrie version of it. However our disappointment was somewhat erased when we noticed they had nets. This was going to be a special day. Unlike the big final there was no doubt about the outcome of this one. We really did have a strong team and the fact that Jazz had started shaving around Christmas gave us a huge advantage at U’11’s. The psychological stress caused to the opposition when they realised he wasn’t a manager was worth a five goal start. Anyway we were five up, funnily enough, with ten minutes to go and my moment of glory arrived. An unnatural bounce of the ball in the box gave me a chance for a diving header. Their fat goalie (I hadn’t heard of obese then and fat kids were around in the 70’s) was my only obstacle to glory. I felt the ball on my forehead; I felt cartilage rearranging in my nose (which has never recovered); I heard someone, somewhere, far off, shout ‘goal’…
My teacher was holding up some fingers. He was quite a religious man and supposedly had trained as a priest. “You scored, well done. How many fingers am I holding up?” I’d no idea but some faculties were still working. He’d never hold up one or two as that could be rude, it looked like six so half it. ‘Three’. ‘He’s fine ref carry on.’ The next ten minutes were quite difficult as there appeared to be about twenty of them and I’d found the pitch tight in the first place.
When it was all over and we were getting changed in their gym, Jazz gave me a couple of slaps for sadistic purposes and to see if I was alright, he cared like that. My fuzzled brain was now drifting toward Hampden. There was no way I was missing the game so my maw and da couldn’t get to know about this seeing double thing. I did think I could use it as an excuse to avoid the hell of the return van journey but the bhoys were in celebratory mood and Abba was being replaced by a Celtic mix which was in the main, our homage to King Kenny. He’d be our match winner.
After a celebratory slice of the dinner ladies special caramel cake and a drink of diluting orange from a green plastic cup it was off home with my medal clutched tightly in my hand and praying my maw wouldn’t latch onto my double vision. After some hugs I made it to my room but refused to lie down as I didn’t want to fall asleep or die and miss the game. Keep busy. I changed into my Celtic strip. This was not an unusual occurrence but trousers were almost certainly out for a few days due to my skinned knees sticking to any material they came into contact with.
I’d never watched a Scottish cup final. 1974 had been the radio, ’75 I was at, ’76 I had no interest in and now bang. The big one. The crowd seemed low though. I was expecting it to be crowded and swaying but there were big gaps at the front of the terraces. My da and uncles had numerous theories about this: weather, television. Violence, pubs… I didn’t care as long as Celtic won but I couldn’t understand why the five adults in my living room were here when they were allowed to go. If I could go I wouldn’t miss it. Weirdos!
Celtic lined up: Latchford, McGrain, Lynch, Stanton, MacDonald, Aitken, DALGLISH, Edvaldsson, Craig, Conn and Wilson. Subs: Burns, Doyle.
Due to my dazed state my only two memories are the penalty incident and loving the white and green tracksuits worn by Tommy Burns and Johnny Doyle with ‘CELTIC’ emblazoned across the back. Shuggie Edvaldson’s shot was stopped by Derek Johnstone’s hand on the line. Penalty. Simple. This seemed to cause great debate but the co-commentator was sure and that would do me. I liked his style. My head was beginning to clear. This would be Kenny’s glory moment. Kennedy wouldn’t have a chance. The uncles agreed:
“Kenny will hit it.”
“C’mon Dalglish.”
“Aw for f**** sake no Lynch”
Panic seemed to ensue and spread rapidly around the room. I could imagine this tsunami erupting over the Celtic supporting world.
“Take it aff him Dalglish…”
“Anybody but Lynch.”
“Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss”
“Well done Andy son”
“I knew he’d score…” seemed to be the agreement.
I was still in shock. Kenny? Whit happened? But then the wave of Celtic joy hit me and my head cleared a bit again. There was seventy minutes to go but I was confident. It was to be double cup joy for me today. I knew it.
Celtic won. Kenny lost his medal in the celebrations only to be found in an umbrella by a friendly polis during the celebrations at the Celtic end. Jock hugged Kenny. Danny hugged Alfie Conn and Tommy and Johnny were supporters on the pitch. Magic! This was to be Big Jock’s final trophy, his 25th. He and King Kenny tried to board the Rangers bus outside Hampden, as the Celts left with the cup, much to everyone’s amusement. Oh how they must have wished that had happened many years earlier.
My usual celebration was to jump the fence at St. Serf’s park and re-enact the final. However my head was splitting, my nose was broken and green goo was oozing out of my knees. I lay down on the top of my bed. As I drifted off my last thought was that we hadn’t sung for Andy Lynch in the box-van…Andy, Andy, Andy, Andy… Andy Lynch.
Richie.
Stephen gets in around flourish, so I’ll come in around four as well, just hope your not in there getting drunk at two.
It’s been a good week for Celtic, into the final, Gary, Stuart and Michael brought to the club, Kris re-signing for another two years, Inter struggling for any kind of form before our Big Game against them, the mood on the blog has been overall positive and then we have our favourite wee trolls trying to hijack the Big Green Bus, coincidence hmmmm I doubt it…
Some folk just can’t see ye happy..
Way to get a red card!
Oldtim67
Nae danger!
Just after being yellow carded, he repeats the offence.
Just sayin’