So why go to court when you know you have signed up to a rule (literally) that forbids you from going to court and that will almost certainly lead to your expulsion from football?
Because almost certainly being expelled from football is a better option than the alternative.
As Bob said: “When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose”.
They have nothing. Nothing.
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Things are slowing
Drink is flowing…
Better go: I have procured a stick from the neighbours garden fence…I have a jobby to poke.
Peace One & All.
SOAL
Cheers amigo. It was the second one I was thinking of.
Paul67
Sheakspearean. Very apt.
Nothing? Nothing will come of nothing. :)))
Rico
Lurkers*(IA) – just end it now. I don’t think the end could get anymore undignified.
I would suggest that they could be the most corrupt club
on the planet. And that is going some.
Expulsion.
neil south uist
I’m actually bored with all these additional days leave, why the hell did we need one for pippa and harry’s wedding? and other one for prince philip stickin wi a crap job for 50 years
praecepta
Say they bring in 4 mill early doors, won’t do much to top up the CVA pot, take away the admin fees, 2.5 mill in the pot,
Still think liquidation is the plan, or you never know, they might just have a cunning plan afoot, say sorry and ask for forgivness………
A summer crucifixtion on the cards
HH
Zbyszek
I think it’s split.
http://www.footballmemories.org.uk/memories/clubs/3-celtic/73-james-allan-glasvegas/
Apart from the singer :-)
Zbyszek on 25 May, 2012 at 21:00 said:
‘I remember “Ice Cream Van” by Glasvegas.’
Here’s a song about the Ice Cream Man.
Happy. Happy. Happy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nu3TvC9CH18
Barca 1 up 2 mins pedro
Zbyszek:
Glasvegas lead singer/songwriter is one James Allan. He went to St Mungo’s Academy in Brigton- yes a good Tim- big Celtic fan.
Good band.
PS
He played football for Queens Park amongst other before making it as a rockstar.
Zbysyek – glasvegas front man James Allan is a huge fan of the Celtic, unfortunately, 2 other memebrs of the group are afflicted with an awful illness, being that they are Ragers fans, but not rabib.
Quentin Boesso signs for Celtic from Ajaccio (ligue 2 side) according to reports in French media – they are in French though.
http://www.foot-national.com/foot-ajaccio-gfco-boesso-signe-au-celtic-glasgow-35190.html
Official Jelly & Ice cream weekend!!
neil south uist
It’s been years since i’ve been in Uist.I went with my father in 84 to visit relatives in Carnan Eochar,great trip!!Good Celtic country.
Aw Naw
Where do you reckon Pep will end up? Something already fixed?
Oops mibbees poor choice of word.
Nothing shall come of nothing.
As the mad king once said.
No, not that mad king. King Lear.
lennon’s passion, I was a 19 year old boy in 1967…used my holiday pay to fly there, still have the letter from the travel agency wishing Celtic success…got back, had a wash and something to eat then headed over to CP to see the bhoys arrive and parade the BIG cup…hard to believe it is 45 years since…
neil south uist
At the moment it is more of a moveable feast!
Ha, thank you guys.
Bloke109 is Neil Lennon , interesting interview.
Van Halen – Ice Cream Man
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvDL_3c8Hak
theglasgowcelticway
nothing much changed since 84 still a celtic stronghold you ll be pleased to hear
http://www.scottishfa.co.uk/resources/documents/SFAPublications/ScottishFApublications2011-12/Scotland%20United%202011.pdf
Page 8 is a good one.
EDB
He made some intriging comments yesterday about being tempted to work straight away if the right project came up .
Do you think Charles Green has been on the blower.
Man United.
HH
45 years ago tonight we made history.
The first non latin club to win the Champions Cup.
The first British club to lift the big cup.
“John you are immortal” Bill Shankley
Never a truer word was spoken.
Quentin Boesso ??
From La Renunion
An Agathe tip ???
PaulElliotsPerm
re Quentin Boesso
never heard of him
but i see he comes from La Reunion, as per Didier Agathe
a striker from a Ligue 2 club
hardly markee !
but time will tell i suppose
piece on him from March re 1/4 final v Montpellier
google translate as required
he’s maw was was proud him when he scored
a hat-trick on his 18th birthday
lets see what happens
moff tae bed
0015hrs here
hx2
weebobbycollins
Respect.
Gene’s a Bhoys name on 25 May, 2012 at 20:32 said:
Paul67
on the other hand – “when you fear noboby you have nothing to fear” – same as it ever was since 1872
same as it ever was http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-io-kZKl_BI
THCSC
Just logged on
Boesso = Bollo**s
No truth
TimmySeville, are you a hun?
Wonkyradar, never fails as I said. And I hope you/re gonna put that back when you’re done. An extra flushing whilst turning the stick over and back and your neighbour need never even know it was gone!
Hail Hail,
KevinBhoy.
Lennon’s passion at 20:58….
I don’t consider myself an auld bhoy, nor a Lisbon Lion maybe a Lisbon cub!
Here’s my storry of that great day…;
“ON OUR WAY TO LISBON……….SHALL WE NOT BE MOVED ? !!!”
I didn’t sleep at all that night so excited was I about the next day’s adventure.
The day had arrived at last. The 25th May 1967.
Ever since that April afternoon when I sat straining to hear the crackling wireless transmission from Prague when we battled our way to a 0-0 draw all I could think about was Lisbon.
As I look back though it seems strange to me that whilst I and about 12000 other Celtic fans were pre-occupied with the great journey there was very little discussion about the outcome of the match.
Unlike today when we analyse every aspect of the game, tactics, team selection ad nauseum, the 1967 European Cup Final was going to be forever remembered as much for events off the pitch as for those that occurred on it.
I was a 13 year old schoolboy from the Gorbals and my dad and brothers Jimmy & John were all members of the Sarsfield supporters club whose bus left from the Tavern pub in Florence Street.
A few days after the match in Prague my Dad announced that he thought that the club should charter a plane to Lisbon.
In those days a 4 to 5 hour journey to Aberdeen was regarded as something of an expedition and it was customary for Celtc fans to make a weekend of it by booking bed & breakfast accommodation months in advance of the trip.
But a plane to Lisbon? Surely not!
My Dad was a bit of an entrepreneur when it came to these things though.
In 1964 we reached the Cup Winners Cup semi final and met MTK Budapest soundly beating them 3-0 at Celtic Park. We were on our way to Brussels for the final, cost £13. Oh no we weren’t! I still can’t believe we got hammered 4-0!
In Augsut 1965 our supporters club filled 15 coaches when we travelled to Sunderland for a pre-season friendly.
But a plane to Lisbon? Surely not!
Well, we did charter the plane and had to pay a deposit of £300 for the privelege. That was a lot of money in 1967.
Adverts were placed in the supporters columns of the Times and Citizen…” Charter plane to Lisbon £32 ‘phone Ibrox 3226.”
The demand was instant, supporters from Glasgow, Stirling, Perth, Wick, England and even Germany called to book their places on the flight. The sense of anticipation mounted as the great day neared.
In an article in the Sunday People on 21 May, Sean Fallon predicted that Celtic would win 2-1. Accompanying that article was a photograph of the Estadio Nacional, an odd looking place,and also a photograph of the
famous trophy which in those days seemed to permanently reside in either Spain or Italy.
Late on the evening of 24th May one of the fans, a little worse for wear, who was travelling on the flight telephoned our house to ask if he ” was really going to Lisbon tomorrow”.
That call seemed to sum up the general feeling of the time. Were Celtic really going to some far off place to play the world’s greatest side? Was it really happening? Was it all a dream?
Our Trans Europa flight number TR820 was scheduled to leave at 9.15 from Abbotsinch Airport however 25th May was the feast of Corpus Christi and we attended early morning Mass at Lourdes church in Cardonald.
The fact that the priest asked the assembled faithful to pray for a “successful day” emphasised yet again that this was no glorified Aberdeen trip we were embarking (600) on. It was to be a very special day, a day
never to be forgotten.
We had a photograph taken outside the airport building proudly displaying our club shield adorned with painted emerald green shamrocks surrounding the words “Sarsfield Celtic Supporters Club”.
It is amusing to look at that photograph today and check out the style. Everyone was suited up, shirts, ties and even jumpers were the order of the day. Not of course to mention the obligatory Celtic muffler and big, jaggy woollentammies. The temperature in Lisbon was 80 degrees during the match!
My brother John held aloft a large Irish tricolour supported by a mast of tent poles painted green and white for the occasion. He would later be captured on film paying homage to that very same flag planted in the
sacred Estadio turf.
A friend, Eddie Staunton, had been presented with a knitted doll in full hooped glory with a shock of bright red hair symbolising Jimmy Johnstone. This mascot was to turn up later that day in the most unlikely of places!
The terminal building was bustling with Celtic fans as plane after plane took off for Portugal.
Suddenly there was an announcement to the effect that our flight was to be delayed. The extent of the delay was unknown.
As time passed it became clear that there was something seriously wrong.
Frustrations grew as our fellow supporters jetted off and soon we were the only fans left in the airport. We found out that our plane had made an additional journey and our departure time had been put back until
12.30.
We sought the expert advice of some pilots at the airport who confirmed that given a fair wind we should arrive in Lisbon in just enough time to make the kick-off. Was our dream turning into a nigthmare?
Certainly news of our plight was travelling fast. Reporters from both the Times and Citizen were despatched to the airport to interview my Dad, who they had promoted to “flight convenor”. The story appeared on the
front pages in the evening addtions of both papers.
At long last we were put out of our growing misery. Our plane had landed and we were ushered through to departures.
We stood impatiently on the tarmac eagerly waiting to board the plane. Like the last days of Saigon, the sense of desperation to depart was tangible.
Then from the wings, the Spanish pilot and his side-kick sauntered towards the aircraft.. One was dressed in an all royal blue uniform the other in a garish all red number. I could have sworn it was Francie and Josie.
They were told in no uncertain terms by the growling mob to get a move on or words to that effect.
Once in the air everyone relaxed in the knowledge that we were at last on our way and had every chance of making the kick off at 5.30. As the hours passed it became clear that we might as well have had Francie and Josie at the controls. Our estimated time of arrival was slipping beyond kick off time.
Tension mounted as the minutes ticked down to kick off and we were 30000 feet above Portugal. It was going to be tight as we descended ever nearer the airport.
The atmosphere on board was chaotic. People were standing around itching to get off and totally ignoring the fasten seat belt request. The Spanish air stewardesses, recipients of the customary “driver’s bunnet” ( well, we weren’t going to show our gratitude to the two comedians flying the
plane) tried hard to restore order in their broken English.
It was no good, fever had taken hold and as we dropped the last few hundred feet a rammy broke out over God knows what. Punches flew, the air stewardesses screamed, and the plane taxied to a halt.
We were there! It was just after 5 o’clock.
The traumatised stewardesses opened the doors and…….nothing!
Where were the bloody stairs?! A rather laid back local stared up at the craft and caught a Glasgow mouthful suggesting that he hurried up. Kick-off time was fast approaching.
It was too much for some of the fans. Several of them decided to disembark without the aid of stairs scrambling and dreeping on to the tarmac below.
The rest of us followed by the more conventional route and stormed across the tarmac to be met by a rather large airport official standing guard to the customs entrance.
He was told in no uncertain terms by one of the Gorbals boys that he faced the malkie if he didn’t stand down. He did!
There was no chance of that desperate, fleeing mob waiting in an orderly queue to flash their passports and so it proved. We swept through passport control like the migrating herds of wilderbeasts of the Serengeti as they traverse the river avoiding the snapping jaws of the crocs.
Minutes later I was in one of Lisbon’s distinctive black and green taxis with my Dad speeding off to the Estadio Nacional. The heat was oppressive.
Lisbon flew by as the driver was on a promise of a generous tip to get us to the stadium pronto.
In what seemed like a very short time we drew up at the Estadio.
Despite the circumstances I stood in awe of the sight. This was not anything like Hampden or Ibrox and certainly a world apart from Brockville and Broomfield.
This was an amphitheatre, a Colosseum cut into the hills. This was a special place. Even to this day there is something about the stadium that fires the imagination.
As we bundled out of the taxi a family of travelling people were sitting nearby on the grass verge. “Inter one zero” exclaimed one of them. We had arrived as they scored.
Oh no I thought. Everyone knew that when Inter went one up that was it.
We didn’t try and find our seats and watched the game from the front of the terrace at the side of the ground.
I can still remember how I felt when Stevie Chalmers scored the winner with 5 minutes remaining. I wasn’t nervous, I just knew as did everyone watching that it was over. We were witnessing the greatest day in Celtic’s history. A dream had come true!
At the final whistle my Dad embraced me with tears in his eyes.
There was only one challenge left. The six feet wide moat that stood between us and the pitch.
At first we stood and drank in the scene before us as the Celtic fans charged on to the turf. Eventually, adrenalin pumping, we leaped and joined the throng.
The scenes are now legend and have been captured for posterity in “The Celtic Story”.
Unfortunately I don’t have any personal photographs of the day in Lisbon. My only mementoes are the programme, match ticket and a clump of hallowed turf sealed up in a polythene bag.
After the game we were offered a lift back into Lisbon by a friendly local who drove us to a restaurant where we were greeted with applause by the other diners. I was allowed to have some of the local vino and toasted Celtic’s success in style.
Oh yes, that knitted doll. In the chaos that ensued at the end of the game my brother Jimmy and Eddie Staunton managed to find their way into the Celtic dressing room whereupon Eddie presented the mascot to Jinky.
Unsure, Jimmy asked Bobby Murdoch who scored the winning goal, Bobby replied “Celtic scored the winning goal!”
In keeping with the rest of our day, the scenes at the airport were chaotic. However, no one was bothered.
We took off at 2.30 in the morning and flew home with a lifetime of memories from simply the greatest day in the club’s history.
We of course reached another final in Milan in 1970 but that’s another story.
from twitter
Gregory Ioannidis @LawTop20
Things may get worse for RFC as the SFA rules are silent on relegation and instead they talk about expulsion.
Interesting interp.
forgot link
http://www.midilibre.fr/2012/03/21/quentin-boesso-va-defier-montpellier-en-coupe-de-france,474112.php
Looks like MSM have been complicit in perpetuating the biggest sporting scam in the history of sporting scams. Masssssive!
So where will we be playing football next season when the rest of Scottish football plummets because the crooked blazers would rather see Scottish football go down the toilet rather than expel rangers. And I mean that. Corrupt to the bitter end.
As Sheakspeare said:
To Sleep, Perchance to Dream. Pass another bowl of jelly and ice cream.
:)
Rico
weebobbycollins on 25 May, 2012 at 21:10 said:
Superb mate well impressed KTF. Meet most of the lions over the years but watching them must have been a joy.
71
TET
Call me suspicious but I am yet to be convinced that someone (behind the curtains) isn’t pulling the strings!
In their current format they well be dead(ish) – however its the Metamorphosis that we need to be aware of!
The boul’ Broadfoot – caught between a rock and the proverbial…………..
Aye.