A mate of mine in the Falkirk area gives me a call from time to time to discuss the beautiful game and our conversations usually end with us both in fits of laughter as we wonder how Russell Latapy, on a staple diet of beer, fags, unprotected sex and the occasional spliff is still going strong - if you can call circumnavigating the centre circle 'still going strong' - at 72-years-old!!! Sometimes, when our lot get bogged down in midfield, I reckon Russell could still add that little bit of composure which would make a difference.
But my Bairn buddy wasn't doing too much laughing last weekend. Apart from having a whinge about his team being robbed by FC Semtex - he confirmed my suspicions that they are nothing special - he was raging about the antics of 'that fecken wee shite in the dug-oot'.
It would appear that, apart from having the Great Unwashed constantly bickereing about him not being 'Sellick-minded', Gordon The Garden Gnome ain't gonna win any popularity contests in Falkirk...or in Dundee, or Kilmarnock, or Edinburgh for that matter. Maybe years of being a niggly wee bassa at Sheepieville will get him the benefit of the doubt in the frozen north but elsewhere he is about as popular as a fart in a phone box on a hot, clammy day.
Of course, this will come as no surprise to us old stagers who remember him in Sir Greetinfaced's midfield at Shittodrie. He niggled opponents, harassed referees and infuriated fans with his childish behaviour and fancied himself as the joker supreme with his OTT celebrations whenever he scored.
It should go without saying - but I'll say it anyway - that his nonsense was sure to catch up with him and it did one night at the Piggery when a knuckledragger emerged from that aptly named part of the ground inhabited by animals and stuck one on him. I wonder what that muppet feels each time he sees his sparring partner take his place in the Parkheid dug-out. Methinks they deserve each other.
He was at his most annoying after penalty kicks, many of which were won by his cheating, when he would run towards the fans behind the goal, pointing into the crowd and wearing an 'I'm laughing at you' face you could never tire of punching. After his move to Old Trafford, he tended to go for the same routine at the Scoreboard End where visiting supporters were housed, although he did have a rapid change of heart at Liverpool one day when he celebrated a goal with a cigar-smoking gesture (what a comedian!) in front of the Kop and was greeted by enough shrapnel to fill half-a-dozen slot machines.
And he was a slippery wee bugger too. When he made up his mind to leave Muttontown in 1984, he was apparently off to the Bundesliga with Cologne but had second thoughts when Ron Atkinson showed interest in taking him to United. Mind you, by welching on the Cologne deal, he spared my big pal The Koelsch from a major dilemma. Supposing Strachan had been a success at the Mungersdorf, can you imagine the big fella having to say something good about him. Nope, me neither!
Yet there was a time not so very long ago when there were suggestions that the Minted One could do worse that bring this miniature upstart to Ibrox. Heaven forbid! Losing Coventry City the top league status they'd held for something like 35 years in his very first venture into management, he was clearly the master of nothing more than the smart-arsed one-liner. Sure he took Southampton to the FA Cup Final in 2003 but, knowing he'd got lucky, he quit while he was ahead and spent the next year or so on the box, trading wit and classroom humour with the likes of Lawro and Wrighty (combined IQ 261/2!!!).
I couldn't conceal my delight when HE took over from O'Kneel at the Scum Dome. I never liked the wee rat in the first place (can you tell?) but now I had every justification for giving his ugly mug pride of place on my dartboard. And guess what? The GFITW were as pissed off as I was happy. To be perfectly honest, I don't think he was ever expected to win anything. Remember, Ra Sellick were in disarray, the House Of O'Neill had come tumbling down on Helicopter Sunday an the Gers were back on top. And Artmedia Bratislava added to their woes. But thanks to the mismanagement of the Minted One and his sun-tanned lackey, we quickly surrendered the initiative an that despicable wee specimen just can't believe his luck.
He and Septic are made for each other. Good grace and dignity are words from a foreign language. They'd much rather gloat or bleat about some imaginary injustice. I'm told that when PLG departed the scene in January, Strachan was smirking about having seen 'another one' off the premises. The fact that the first was supposed to be a pal of his meant nothing to this reptile. Never mkind, Walter has got the measure of him and his overrated team and I've a funny feeling he'll be clearing out his desk sooner rather than later.
So for those Jambos who still fume when they recall his inflamatory gesture when his lot stole a late winner at the Scum Dome last season, or the Killie Boys who were angered by his behaviour at Rugby Park, or my mate in Falkirk who was furious with his provocative attitude, antagonising the crowd in the Main Strand throughout last weekend's match - I don't suppose the SPL Match Delegate will include that in his report! - you should have to put up with his nonsense for too much longer.
Good riddance to bad rubbish.
KILLIE BILLY