ADVENTURES IN THE SEVCO DIMENSION

The house we're renting just now doesn't have a TV aerial so we just use BBC iPlayer and other catch-up sites on the PS3. This means that the telly is off for most of the day and we don't end up watching a pile of shite like Bargain Hunt just because it's on. It also means that we don't have to pay for a TV licence. I'd recommend watching TV this way to anybody; it's easy to see the programmes you want to see and it's amazing how you don't miss all the pish you previously thought you couldn't do without.

I tend to be up at night and I watch a lot of those box sets and old DVDs that I got years ago but never got round to watching. At the moment I'm watching V, the original one, and the beginning automatically makes me think of The Peeppul. The blurb at the start says that the show is dedicated to all the brave resistance fighters throughout the world and I can't help wondering how the Huns would react to that. In fact, I'd imagine The Peeppul would be on the side of the aliens; until, of course, they found out that their skin is green!

I recently watched Breaking Bad and I honestly can't understand what all the fuss is about. There's folk claiming that it's the greatest TV show ever made, which I can't see at all. I guess there's no accounting for taste. A much better programme has been The Man in the High Castle, an alternative-history-type thing where the Nazis got the atomic bomb first and so the Germans and the Japanese won WWII. The USA is divided between Japan and Germany and there's lots of skulduggery between the two empires. There's also a kind of fantasy element with illegal films doing the rounds, which show an alternative reality where the Allies won. I'm waiting for Series 2 to find out what the significance is of these films.

Again, I thought of The Peeppul. Just imagine an alternative reality where Rangers paid their taxes, Murray didn't sell to Whyte and administration and liquidation never happened. Into this happy dimension is introduced the rumour of films showing a different reality, where everything went tits-up and Rangers died. There's a roaring, black-market trade in these films until, finally, somebody puts one on the internet for all to see. Can you imagine settling down to watch it and then looking at all the TV reports and newspaper stories shown in the film? The immediate reaction would be What the fuck? I thought the bastards had died!

That's what it feels like a lot of the time; as if we're living in an alternative reality where Rangers didn't die. More than that; our media does its best to make out that 'Rangers' is the most important team in Scotland and that they'll soon be in Europe, dominating every competition with a crowd of loan players, guys on short-term contracts and assorted Action Man's Heids from the bottom of the English FA barrel - oops! Sorry! Not supposed to bring that up. All of which makes laughable the story I read on The Clumpany about a group called 'Bears Fightback'. This group is nothing new; it's the old story with The Peeppul going through everything with a fine-tooth comb desperate to find something to be offended by. It's quite risible when you hear them calling others 'perma-offended' when they're the ones that go out their way to be offensive and then hate it when anybody says the least thing, no matter how anodyne.

I've mentioned on here before about the clown that chained himself to his veranda railings in the 1960s when the council decided to change all the verandas from a horrible bottle green to a much cheerier-looking sky blue. The council gave in and let him paint his own railings, which he did, painting them a Celtic green. He lived near the chapel and everybody used to laugh at him when coming out of mass. If they'd been changing the railings from blue to green I can't imagine any of The Peeppul laughing; they'd have marched on George Square, claiming it was a big Fenian conspiracy! I remember reading on a blog one of them saying how he never used to use the buses in Glasgow when they were painted green and white; he claimed that he walked everywhere rather than travel on these buses, which showed Glasgow Council's 'true colours'. They're really not right in the head!

And it's not just the Bare Bawsacks that are up in arms. The Daily Record ran an ill-advised story about the SPFL 'investigating' Sevco and Hearts; the latter for not keeping fans segregated, the former for sectarian singing. I say 'ill-advised' because the DR's readership, The Peeppul won't like it and it's not as if anything's ever going to actually be done, is it? As expected, The Peeppul have been on the DR forum in droves, doing what they do best - lashing out at everybody.

And so it goes on...child abuse, terrorist supporters...BJK etc. etc. etc. like a stuck record. I think the funniest one was about the Irish not having a right to Ireland and yet they'll all support Israel's claim, based on words written nearly three thousand years ago! And, again, we hear the demented cry that England doesn't want Celtic. They really don't get it, do they? Celtic are welcomed time and again to England to play in charity matches, testimonials etc. while they only ones that ever welcomed Rangers or Sevco were their bigoted brothers over in NI. Parallel universes right enough!

Further to this, I've currently been watching Celebrity Big Brother. (I know, I know; mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!) Anyway, last night saw a game where they had to stand either on a square that said YES or one that said NO. They were asked if they thought other folk in the house were jealous of them; every single one of them stood in the NO box, while fat troublemaker Gemma stood alone in the YES box. I mean...why the hell would anyone be jealous of her? The way she speaks and acts it's fairly evident that she's envious of everyone else since she's a fat, talentless nobody. (I just tell it as I see it!)

I used to know somebody like that, who couldn't get on with his own life for worrying about how other folk were doing. Apparently,  I shouldn't have been school Dux since I only started at the school at the beginning of Third Year, a fact that bothered nobody else. He could never be happy unless he was doing better than everyone, which effectively meant that he could only rejoice in other people's misery. He was jealous of everybody, for being better looking, earning more, being more intelligent, having better social skills etc. His main ambition in life was to find somebody, somewhere, to be jealous of him; an impossible feat, so his only recourse was to transfer his failings onto others, accusing them of being eaten up with jealousy and having chips on their shoulders. Not a happy chappy.

Now does that remind you of anyone? If you read the rantings of The Peeppul you'll constantly hear them grumbling about how 'Raynjurz' were banished to the lower divisions, through no fault of their own, but due to the jealousy of others. Apparently the supporters, and boards, of every team in Scotland were (and still are) insanely jealous of the 'most successful club' in the world, which also, seemingly, has the biggest fan base on the planet. As I said earlier, such expressions are usually an indication of transferring feelings of inferiority onto others; essentially, expecting others to feel the same way they do. The fact is that their 54 titles can never now be added to and everyone knows that a good chunk of them were achieved through cheating. It's hardly a sign of being the most successful club in Scotland, never mind the world! It's like somebody staying on at school until they're twenty-four and gaining 54 O Levels, while a classmate leaves school at 17, goes to university and by the age of 24 has got a PhD. Which one would you think has the more bragging rights? That European Cup has been a thorn in the side of The Peeppul for almost 49 years now and their club died trying to get it!

Speaking of 'auld acquaintance', as I was, I see that website Friends Reunited has closed down. Apparently, it's faced too much competition from the likes of Facebook but I think there's more to it than that. It was okay at first, laughing at somebody saying they were working in IT in Australia when you knew he was on the dole and living in a bedsit in Strathbungo, but then you're tempted to put your own details up. Before you know it you're contacted by old school 'chums' that you lost touch with a long time ago. And that's when you remember why you lost touch with them; they were arseholes! I think more than a few folk came to that realisation and abandoned the website in droves.

Finally, I see the Daily Record is continuing its love affair with Lady Muck, Michelle Mone. You never see a word against her in that rag, which casts serious doubts, if any still remained, on the paper's claim to socialist credentials. She's over in Barbados, gushing about being 'head over heels' in love. Obviously she's met some other mug with plenty of money. 'You can turn your life around' she simpers; yes, all you need is blond hair, big knockers and to marry into money. Sorted.

Orange Flegs and Lamb

(With apologies to Dr. Seuss.)

D'you like or-
ange flegs and lamb?

I do not like them,
Will-I-am.
I don't like or-
ange flegs and lamb.

Would you like them
Here or there?

I would not like them
here or there.
I would not like them
anywhere.
I do not like them,
Will-I-am.
I don't like or-
ange flegs and lamb.

Would you like them
in the town?
With a majorette man
dancing round?

I would not like them
in the town.
I would not like them
anywhere.

I do not like them,
Will-I-am.
I don't like or-
ange flegs and lamb.

Would you like them
at Level 5?
Pretending our dead club's
still alive?

I would not like them

at Level 5.

I would not like them
in the town.
I would not like them
anywhere.

I do not like them,
Will-I-am.
I don't like or-
ange flegs and lamb.

Would you? Could you?
in the grass?

Sitting with a

bonny lass?

 

I would not, could not,
in the grass.

Please shove the lot right

up your arse!

I would not like them

at Level 5.

I would not like them
in the town.
I would not like them
anywhere.

I do not like them,
Will-I-am.
I don't like or-
ange flegs and lamb.

What about Ibrox?

Join me, please.
And we can sing about
bloody knees?

 

I would not like them at Ibrox.

I would not, could not,
in the grass.

Please shove the lot right

up your arse!

I would not like them

at Level 5.

I would not like them
in the town.
I would not like them
anywhere.

I do not like them,
Will-I-am.
I don't like or-
ange flegs and lamb.

A train! A train!
A train! A train!
Could you, would you
on a train?

 

 

Oh, by fuck! Not you again!

I wouldn't like them on a train.

I would not like them at Ibrox.

I would not, could not,
in the grass.

Please shove the lot right

up your arse!

I would not like them

at Level 5.

I would not like them
in the town.
I would not like them
anywhere.

I do not like them,
Will-I-am.
I don't like or-
ange flegs and lamb.

 

What about Keith

and the MSM?

Surely you'd enjoy

it with them?

 

 

Look, you stupid

Orange cunt,

I see I need to be

quite blunt.
I wouldn't like them on a train.

I would not like them at Ibrox.

I would not, could not,
in the grass.

Please shove the lot right

up your arse!

I would not like them

at Level 5.

I would not like them
in the town.
I would not like them
anywhere.

I do not like them,
Will-I-am.
I don't like or-
ange flegs and lamb.

Take your lamb

you love so well

And take it with you

down to Hell.

And take your flegs

And all that truck

right oot ma face

And get tae fuck!

 

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Wabs decides to give Kris Boyd another chance.