Think Of The Real Rainjurrz Men At This Sad Time Of Year

AT THIS time of year, we are expected to ask for peace on earth and to profess goodwill to all men. I know, it's difficult, and in the world of Scottish football, goodwill to all men is as rare at this special time of year than at any other time.

As Johnny Cash nearly sang: "I wear blue for the poor and the beaten-down, living on the hungry, hopeless side of town" - or, as they are known - Real Rainjurrz Men

However, I feel, this year, we really ought to make a special effort on behalf of a poor, down-trodden and oppressed minority – Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you those hard-pressed, put-upon citizens – the Real Rainjurrz Men, the RRM. For them, there appears to be no light at the end of the dark tunnel, not even the headlights of a fast-approaching freight train, about to run them over.

I mean, the seven plagues of Egypt were but a minor inconvenience when compared to the series of travails which have plagued the institution they follow-follow.

For a start, Sir David Murray was never a RRM. Sure, he delivered some great years, he made the people happy for a while, but, in the end, he was shown to have financial feet of clay, before he sold the institution for £1 to a “billionaire with wealth off the radar”, who proved to be a false God.

He was quickly found out as a fraud, and the institution was sold, to “Lord Charles”, who perhaps had some London-based financiers' hands up his backside working him – as he was shown to also be, not what he had appeared to be.

But, Lord Charles was decanted to France and, at last, after more than a quarter of a century in the hands of outsiders, the Club was back in the hands of the RRM. The King over the water was in-charge and all would be well.

 King Gasl - has not got his troubles to seek

Aye Right. Those of the rival family, who mocked the King as: Gasl - “A glib and shameless liar” pointed-out, time and again, that the King had no clothes. Sure, he promised much, but, he appeared to be suffering from a strange impediment. For all anyone knew, he did seem to have deep pockets – trouble was, his arms were too-short to go in there.

Now, this morning, in nice time for Christmas, we learn that HM King Gasl will need to, on the instructions of Lord Bannatyne, one of Scotland's most-senior judges, come up with £11 million, to buy out the remaining Rangers' shareholders and take-over the Club.

Trouble is, while King Gasl has, on the one hand, been promising much - £30 million “transfer 'war chest' anyone” - he has delivered little. The Club continues to be, as it has been since SDM handed-over control to yon off the radar chap, a loss-making entity, without a credit line at any bank, without a permanent manager, with on-going issues over potentially-expensive stadium refurbishment, and with on-going issues over settlement payments to its last two managers.

The genuine RRM who have been funding this loss-making enterprise are, we understand, becoming a little pissed-off with having to bear the burden. One senses it is all coming to a head.

Why, there are even rumours, the pr guru who has, thus far, done a tremendous job in keeping the Lap Top Loyal and the other stenographers and churnalist of the mainstream media in Glasgow, is beginning to lose his audience. And, we are outwith the squirrel-hunting season, so, diversions are in short supply.

 Stevie Clarke - the managerial Flavour of the Month

I detected the hand of the top Level pr guru behind recent efforts to unsettle Stevie Clarke, the flavour of the month among Scottish managers, following his turn-around in the fortunes of Kilmarnock. But, Clarke, good Ayrshire boy that he is, and, having during his time in England worked with all sorts of charlatans, can spot a club owner, or potential owner, who is all mouth and no trousers.

He has made it clear, he has no interest in managing any Scottish club other than Kilmarnock. This, following hard on the heels of the knock-back from Derek McInnes, appears to confirm – the word is out about how skint the Club is, and how untrustworthy King Gasl might be.

I think popcorn sales might be up this festive season, as this movie is set to run and run.

MEANWHILE, across town, there was a speedy response to surrendering their impressive 69-game unbeaten domestic run at Tynecastle on Sunday. Hearts actually did Celtic a favour by winning that one. Perhaps better to lose to a non-Glasgow club than one from the same city, and, if Celtic had stretched their run to 70 games, well, that would simply have been the cue for one of these rare Partick Thistle against the odds wins.

Of course, the churnalists and stenographers have been quick to make the point about this “World Record” run of 69-games unbeaten. Fair play, it was impressive, but, it is NOT a World Record, or even a British Record.

The Celtic run is correctly – a British Record for a top national division, since the outright record is held by AFC Wimbledon, who, on their rise through the ranks in England, put together an unbeaten league run of 78 games back in 2003 and 2004.

SO SORRY to learn this week that Bobby Williamson has been diagnosed with Cancer. Not nice at any time of year, but, more-so in December.

Bobby Williamson - One of the Good Guys

However, I am certain Bobby will give the big C a real run for its money, he's that sort of guy. And, with Bobby being back in the news, it gives me a chance to retell my favourite Bobby Williamson story, from his days as Kilmarnock manager.

Bobby had been having one of his periodic wars with the Fourth Estate in the week leading-up to a Kilmarnock v Dundee United job. He had accused several upstanding tabloid hacks of: making-up stories and manufacturing quotes. Perish the thought!!

So, on the Saturday, he arrived in the Rugby Park Media Suite armed with a Dictaphone, and announced he was going to record the press conference, and, he expected us to identify ourselves and out newspaper when asking him questions, safe in the knowledge, he would be checking our copy to ensure accuracy.

I had drawn the short straw of asking the first question, so, I duly identified myself: “Socrates MacSporran – Sunday Times,” (for it was for that august organ I was reporting). My question was: “Bobby – how do you justify that 90-minutes of shite we've just watched?” The match had, indeed, been that staple of Scottish fitba: “A draw, nae fitba!”

My parentage, my weight issues, my perceived love of Ayr United were all called into question in Bobby's preamble to his answer, before, reluctantly, he accepted, the game had been: “Not very good.”

At least, he binned the Dictaphone, the rest of the press conference passed in friendly banter and without rancour, and we all left, more than ever convinced that Bobby was indeed, one of the good guys.

Alex Smith, the United boss, was a bit harder to convince that it had been a rotten game, but, eventually, he too accepted the crowd had been somewhat short-changed.

Get well soon Bobby – we are all with you in your fight.