Old Blighty is on the march again


It is world cup day and England are playing. The lads are over on the dark continent ready for war and relating stories about da Boer war and all that malarky. Tears flow from the eyes of sentimental and fat baldy forty-something men who could not run a bath far less towards a line of baying Zulu warriors and the young beat their chests with pride and want to be a somebody for a day - "I was there guv"


All the great names are dusted off and wheeled out in the midday sun: Dunkirk, Agincourt, Balaclava, Waterloo and Gallipoli to rekindle the fighting spirit of the once great little nation that ruled the waves with an Iron rod. Old blightey is on the march again


The other home nations are not there and that is a shame because this promises to be the most colourful world cup ever and god knows the world never needed more an injection of Scottishness, Irish friendliness and whatever it is the men who trouble the sheep are best at doing. Maybe they could just contribute by giving us a song or two since it is so difficult to understand what the feckers are talking about


Hopefully it will be an occasion that shows the true greatness of the human spirit and that it will throw up a moment or two that will remain in the memory for a lifetime, such as Wayne Rooney missing a crucial penalty in the 90th minute of the final. Well. We are all allowed our dreams after all so keep yer kecks on, I am only jesting


There is a lot of Celtic people who like to draw attention to themselves by stating that they hate England. It is bluster mostly but I am sure that there are a few who could be doing with some treatment for this wicked condition. Such an affliction is a waste of energy and bitterness only makes one unhappy and prone to developing cancers which are sure to shave a few years off the old trouble and strife expectancy. So lighten up lads and stop being bitter. Get over it. You can feel better right now if you choose to you know and your thoughts are in your own hands. Be free


For such a small nation the Scots are a canny lot. If you were to compile a list of nations and what they have contributed to mankind then the Scots might not top it if you are talking about sheer numbers but it is quality that counts and not quantity. The Americans probably top the list, sure, but let's just remember that in America you can get a patent for almost anything, such as, how one wipes one's arse without upsetting the old balloch miles. So without further adoo lets take a butchers at some of the things this little tiny little country has discovered or invented:














This little lot is a tad impressive and even the most rapid little hinglander would have to agree yet some English commentators such as Mr Paxman think the Scots are a nation of subsidy junkies. Mr Paxman, whenever I picture your face I imagine you spinning on my middle finger and as you speed up you grow quieter. Silence you fucking twat. Your stuffy BBC pals wanted to be one of us Celtic became the first northern European club to win the big cup. This little technique is a variation on the anger management trick which asks you to imagine your tormentor first as a lifesize version who is an annoying cnt but who then gradually begins to move away from you while all the while getting smaller and smaller until he/she appears like a little flake dust, and of no consequence to you whatsoever, in the distance. It is a marvellous technique and it really works


Have you never heard of national boundaries? In case anyone has failed to notice that huge fuckin well of oil and gas lying under the North Sea lies within the boundaries of Scotland and our powers that be, just like the nobles in Braveheart, gave it all away without a fuckin whimper. Put bluntly they need coshing with a mace.


Now sharing is not a problem and it is nice to be nice to the neighbours and all that but hold on a fuckin mo. If it was not for all that lovely lolly that comes from the North Sea there would be no money to finance sightseeing trips to Afghanistan and Iraq or keep that bunch of freaks in the palace in luxury. And it this attitude that makes all difference in how the parts of these little island each view the world


The Irish have little interest in fighting anyone because they are too busy speculating on property and the Scots, while having a reputation as a nation of fighters, are only interested in kicking ass when someone pinches theirs. We don't really want to go and fight the Taliban because we respect these guys and know that they are are as fuckin hard as ourselves. Afghans are due some respect here after all because they pummelled the Ruskies and they are now in the process of doing the same to the Sherman Tanks. Only mad dogs and Hinglishmen would hang out in a dust bowl like Helmand but hey, Afghanistan sits right between the Ocean and greatest natural gas resource on the planet. Just who is kidding who here?


These islands are full of glaring contradictions that defy all logic. Most of the Irish have relatives who are Hinglish and about ten percent of the Hinglish nation are either Irish or have Irish ancestry. One in five people living in Scotland are English. The Scots, being a nation of adventurers, are everywhere else except in fuckin Scotland. The place is empty to why not let English people go up and live there. Some of them are very nice people and their northward migration will give the Scots a chance to prove that they are as friendly as they like to think they are. When I hear of little Scotlanders putting molotov cocktails through someone's window just because of their nationality it makes me feel ashamed and rightly so. The thing is Scotland has it's fair share of psychos and anyone who has visited the lovely scenery of Lanarkshire will attest to this fact. It can be a fuckin scary place sometimes.


Anyway I watched the game and the score made me smile - England 1 Sherman Tanks 1. I was hoping that Rooney would prove that he is the world's best player by a mile, being red till dead and all that, but it was a sad affair and the result was fair. It reminded me that I like the English as a nation but when it comes to them looking for support for their football team I just cant bring myself to do it no matter how hard I kid myself. I would prefer to see Torres or the great Messi beat 6 men and chip the goalie in the last minute of the final to give the cup to either Spain or Hargenitina. The thing is if England won the bloody thing we would never hear the end of it. Our lot would be about as cheerful as that of someone working for the Lanarkshire Tourist Board and we would all be donning the facial expressions of a boxer bog chewing a wasp


Jim Baxter - Wembley 1967


Give my regards to Old Blightey.