During the last few days the DR has been banging on about Harry Clarke; you know, the man that collapsed at the wheel of his cleansing truck and ended up killing folk. The Record is complaining that the Crown Office did not have all the evidence in front of it before the decision was taken not to prosecute. A Crown Office spokesman said that they "had 'all the relevant information' when they made their decision." The Record, for once, is quite right; any investigation should have all the evidence before it before reaching any kind of judgment. As usual, however, the DR betrays its blatant hypocrisy.
Now, don't get me wrong; I'm in no way comparing Rangers' crimes to causing the deaths of people but the same principle applies. No enquiry into Rangers' use of tax-dodging schemes should have been held until it was finally established whether or not they had broken the law. Imagine if the FTT had found in favour of HMRC; a completely different slant would have been put on Nimmo-Smith's investigation. Understandably, The Peeppul, and our media, would have been up in arms since there was every intention of appealing the decision of the FTT. Anyway, you can be damn sure that any enquiry by our football authorities would have been put aside until any appeals were heard. The way things were carried out, however, shows that the whole thing was a sham, a whitewash to be done quickly while our media, and the SFA etc. considered Rangers to be in the clear. Mention stripping titles to anyone at the Record and the answer is the same: it was dealt with by Nimmo-Smith. At the same time, however, they're still going after Harry Clarke. They can't have it both ways.
Somebody said the other day on JohnJames's blog that there would be a concerted effort in our media, given all that's happening, to paint Mike Ashley as some kind of pantomime villain. Sure enough, Keith Jackson got the call from Blythswood Square and obliged with all the predictability you'd expect. You could almost hear the boos and hisses as you read what he had to say about Ashley, his "dislike for King and this Rangers (sic) regime", his "desire to grind them into dust", his "hounding" of the Sevco board and "all manner of secret threats". Boooooooo! On the other hand, we have Honest Dave and his cronies, who have tried to "meet Ashley somewhere in the middle", have spoken of the "need to find some common ground" and were "coming across all very conciliatory". The way Jackson tells it, we all know how this should end. Puss In Boots will waken Sleeping Beauty, they'll both find the lamp, whose genie will produce a warchest and they'll all live happily ever after.
We all know, however, that this is a pack of lies. King et al did nothing but hurl abuse at Ashley, or got their minions in the Sons of Struth and the Daily Record to do the dirty work. They all but told Ashley that he could whistle for his £5m, moaned and whined constantly about the merchandise deal and even tried to stop him having a vote at the AGM, even though he owns 9% of Sevco. In fact, King and his board have been about as conciliatory as the French at Versailles. Still, The Peeppul will swallow all Jackson's shite whole; they can't function unless they've got somebody to hate.
Jackson also talks of "the long list of sinister charlatans who have darkened the doors of the Ibrox boardroom over the last few years". He's right there. Have a look at this rogue's gallery:
Just look at that sinister smile. The Hooded Claw doesn't have a look in!
Madness in his eyes.
The All-Seeing Eye!
Perhaps the most interesting thing 'Warbs' had to say, in among all the wishful thinking, was when he was talking about new signings. He says, "We have to be honest, if we can't afford a player, we can't afford them." That's a big change from what Honest Dave was saying a couple of months back. Remember all that stuff about funds being made available if 'Warbs' identified a player, no matter what the cost? I wonder what happened.
Finally, on a non-football-related story in the DR, it seems that nine out of ten folk have been plagued by cold callers. These bastards always call in the evening when you're trying to eat your dinner and you just know that if you don't bother answering the phone then it'll be somebody else with an important call. When I lived in Glasgow, we used to get called practically every evening by companies trying to sell us conservatories. Eventually, I told them I was interested and the woman took down my details and discussed different types of conservatory. Only then did she ask what kind of abode I lived in. She was shocked when I told her that I lived in an upper flat in a four-in-a-block. I argued that they could put the conservatory on stilts, like those houses you see in Los Angeles. She apologised and put the phone down. They never called again and all the companies must share information because none of the others called again either.
My brother, however, had the best solution. I've never used it but it worked a treat for him. He listened to their spiel and as soon as they asked him what he thought he said, in the creepiest voice he could muster, "Did you know that Jesus loves you?" The guy on the other end couldn't get away quickly enough and my brother was never bothered again!
Speaking of sinister...
Isn't it about time this cunt grew a beard?
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