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Monday 9 November 2015

LEST WE FORGET...

Yet again we've got to read about how Celtic supporters 'shamed the club' by not 'respecting' the minute's silence. It seems to have been planned these last few years that this particular weekend always has a home game at Ibrox while Celtic have to play away. This is so that Ibrox can have its annual Nuremberg Rally, while making sure that Celtic is placed in an unenviable position. It's an awkward one for Celtic fans that are against the poppy; do they stay away or turn up and let their feelings be known? Every year the agnivores desperately hope that it's going to be the latter.

The big problem with the poppy and Remembrance Day is that they've been hijacked by right-wing, almost fascist, elements in our country. It used to be about honouring the dead of the two world wars, which nobody, least of all James McClean, has a problem with. Nowadays, though, it's all about remembering all conflicts and supporting the armed forces. I hardly need to recount here some of the shameful deeds perpetrated by the British armed forces around the globe. Those deeds are the reason why many are not happy about wearing a poppy anymore.

The ridiculousness of the whole thing can be seen in the criticism being levelled at Jeremy Corbyn. Apparently, many were complaining that he didn't bow his head during the silence at the Cenotaph in London. When it was proven that he did actually bow his head the criticism turned to his appearance instead. They didn't like his shabby, ill-fitting clothes or the fact that there was dandruff on his shoulders. Meanwhile, behind Corbyn, looking, as usual, the picture of sartorial elegance, was Tony Blair. Blair sent many soldiers to their deaths in an illegal war for spurious reasons. Still, as long as he's photogenic then his war crimes don't matter a jot.

Respect. That's the favourite word at this time of year. I remember in the classroom we used to have a minutes silence at 11 o'clock on the 11th, or the next school day after it. It's difficult to get children to shut up for ten seconds, let alone a minute, especially when they're not doing anything. Quite often there would be giggles and stifled laughter. Sometimes the whole class would end up erupting. In such circumstances I would just abandon it and have the silence in the afternoon or the next day. My argument against teachers that would complain about pupils' 'lack of respect' was an easy one: they're fucking children, for God's sake!

It's not easy for adults to sit in silence either, especially when everybody around them is looking po-faced and serious. As everybody knows, the least thing can set you off and, quite often, folk at funerals nearly choke to death trying to stifle their laughter. I remember I was an altar boy at a funeral once and the wee shite carrying the crucifix was pissing me off, trying to boss everyone about. I tripped him up and he fell on his face. The metal crucifix flew out of his hands, skidded along the floor of the nave and shot out the doors. The men carrying the coffin behind us nearly dropped it as they tried not to laugh, while others in the congregation couldn't help but let out loud guffaws. The point I'm getting at is that Rod Stewart and Pixie Lott should be cut some slack for laughing during the Remembrance Day concert. This 'respect' stuff is going too far.

Speaking of respect, I notice that none of our media had any criticism to offer about the circus at Ibrox. John Greig led some representatives of the armed forces and Sevco outside to lay a wreath. There was no cenotaph available so they used the next best thing; the statue of John Greig! Very respectful that one, eh? I suppose the statue's standing outside a shrine to a dead team and Greig dished out many a deid leg in his day so there is some connection with the deceased. Usually there are videos kicking about of this kind of thing; the Daily Record normally provides a link. Not this year, though. I wonder if that's got anything to do with the fact that, just a few yards away, there were crowds chanting about hating Mike Ashley!

Once inside, there's big poppies and squaddies everywhere and no mere referee's whistle to start the minute's silence. Just in case the ghosts of the fallen have forgotten the sound, the Ibrox club fires a fucking big gun! Actually, a more appropriate instrument would be the old hooter from Fairfield Shipbuilders. They could then have a parade of soldiers carrying brushes over their shoulders to represent the weapons that the army couldn't afford because the deid club didn't pay their taxes. Oops! Is that disrespectful?



...they cheated everybody.
 
 
 
Remembrance Day at Ibrox



Speaking of remembrance, remember my new novel is available on Amazon.
 
 

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