Torn – Is Glasgow a Binary City?



He’s not a happy man, John that I work with.

I wonder why?

On Friday he seemed to be buoyant, looking forward to the weekend. A quiet night on Friday as he had a flying lesson on Saturday and was saving himself for a big day out at the football and celebrating on Sunday.

John’s a Rangers fan, or a Sevco fan if you like to wind him up about the fact that his original team have went into liquidation and the team in blue that play out of Ibrox are not the same team that he has supported man and boy.

On Friday, he had a spring in his step, lunch time was full of phrases like “We’re back” and “This is the most I’ve looked forward to an Old Firm game in years”.

John’s attitude, probably like most who see the world through blue-tinted glasses is that Celtic haven’t been performing at their best ( true) and that Rangers have had better recent performances ( possibly) and that over the 8 games since Christmas Rangers were the form team and had beaten St Johnstone 3-0 where Celtic could only draw 0-0 against them.

He was in full-on mode .. upbeat, confident and on a roll.

Truth be told, I was more nervous about this game than I have been for any game against Rangers since they were reformed from the assets that Charles Green bought from the insolvency administrators.

Would they be able to beat us at their ground with 45,000 home supporters baying for “Fenian blood”?

My heart said no, but my head wasn’t as confident with a 60/40 likelihood that Celtic would win. Much less than previous games were I had no doubt that we would win, or at least not get beat.

Is that the same thing?

I can handle a draw. But getting beat by your biggest rivals stings.

Glasgow isn’t exactly a binary city,  it’s more 1’s, 0s and Nulls.

For many people,   you’re a Tim or a Hun or nothing and if you’re nothing then you’re viewed suspiciously by either side and assumptions are made from your upbringing and attitude to put you in one box or the other.

So you might as well be something.

But in reality its not as simple as that.  there are many people who really could not give a toss about football or religion and wish that the lot of them would pack up and go elsewhere.

Add to that,  the growing number of immigrants to the city who do not have the historic loyalties which cause this unholy rivalry to be the car-crash spectacle that it has become.

Some people are too involved,  too close to it,  that they lose all sense of perspective.  That they think that its all about “us” and “them”.   Completely unaware that there is so much more to life out there and lots of people who don’t give a fuck.

Did you see the game? Continue reading “Torn – Is Glasgow a Binary City?”


It’s tighter but the moneys still safe! #CelticFC



Oh the weather outside is frightful …

Well it certainly is in the Central Scotland area,  where the “Beast From The East”  is laying siege to most of the country including my wee street,   which being half-way up the hill to East Kilbride is a certainty to be snowed in when the weather turns nasty.

The best thing about being snowed in is no travelling to work,   I’m self employed but I get to Work From Home .. a loose term for logging in and being available and doing enough to look as if you’re busy but in reality I’m sitting around playing piano,  watching  tv,  making curries and otherwise keeping my hands and mind occupied.

Idle hands .. Its the devils work!     🙂

Anyway,  since I’m not spending 3 hours a day on my commute to that Global Communications Company in Livingston that currently employs my services ,   I’ve been able to drop a few thoughts on the blog.

What about the Rangers eh?

Now second in the SPFL and a mere 6 points behind Celtic,  who have a game in hand and there are 10/9 games to play for Celtic/Rangers respectively.

It’s closer than I expected,   but not close enough.

Lets be fair,    they have been playing better football since the got shot of Pedro.   The caretaker manager Graham Murdy is a straight-talking honest professional and has made a few decent loan deals. Continue reading “It’s tighter but the moneys still safe! #CelticFC”

Brothers From Different Mothers? .. #RobertBurns



A mans a man for aw that?

Ye see yon birkie ca’d a lord,
Wha struts, an’ stares, an’ a’ that;
Tho’ hundreds worship at his word,
He’s but a coof for a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
His ribband, star, an’ a’ that,
The man o’ independent mind
He looks an’ laughs at a’ that.

Or ..

You see that fancy dressed poser called a lord
Who struts and stares and all that
Although hundreds worship at his word
He is but a fool for all that
For all that and all that
His fancy style and all that
The man of independent mind
He looks and laughs at all that

A Mans A Man – Robert Burns


What do you think of the poetry of Rabbie Burns, Scotland’s national Bard?

At times in the past, I hated it. Sitting at school being forced to learn it by wrote and how to pronounce these old Scots words and to understand their meaning.

It was pretty dull and dry and certainly not a labour of love, when you’re 12.

Back then I resented being forced to learn this crap, it meant nothing to me.

The only entertainment was listening to Mr Linus in P7 at Saint Constantine’s Primary School Govan, getting excited as he enacted every line from Tam O’Shanter.

My old dad would often and still does quote the wisdom of Bums.

E.g. A rose by any other name still smells as sweet.

My brothers and I would look at each other as if to say .. What the F**k is he talking about?

In our house, you dare not curse in my father’s presence, even today, he’s old and frail but a stern look quickly lets you know what he thinks of any industrial language.

But the years change us, experience gives us wisdom and a perspective to look at life differently from our younger selves.

“What a gift the lord to gie us, tae see ourselves as others see us.”

Do you ever look back at yourself and think, look at the state of my clothes or my hair, which were the height of fashion at the time and think what a plonker.

Continue reading “Brothers From Different Mothers? .. #RobertBurns”

To Thine Own Self … #Kiss

4am, awake again …

Just watched Gene Simmons, the frontman of the band Kiss on BBC HardTalk.

I was never a fan, but as an 8 year old Hungarian immigrant to the USA, he has had a life and a half and gives an interesting perspective on the music business, sex, drugs, immigration and Trump.

Well worth a watch.

Here’s a snippet of the wisdom learned from experience – To Thine Own Self Be True.

Wolf – Stench

The stench was appalling.

You could smell it from 100 yards outside the three story apartment block.

No wonder the neighbours were complaining.

It was two weeks after Christmas and they had thought it was due to the increased volume of refuse and lack of collection over the festive period.

But now the rubbish had been collected and the smell lingered, so they called it in.

Even my probationer Stevie knew what it was the moment we parked up outside the dilapidated council block.

Stevie pressed the button on the secure entry. The caller a Mrs Armstrong lived in Flat 2/2, directly below the flat we were about to visit.

It’s not hard to guess why the smell would be worst in her place.

I’d already noticed the curtains twitching when we parked the car and she answered the buzzer within moments, opening the door to the building without the need for introductions.

I could hear her unlocking her door as we walked up the stairs. Two mortice locks and a Yale.

Stevie had checked the history of the block and there had been a number of break-ins over the years. Mrs Armstrong had been broken into twice.

Kevin McLeod, the occupant of the flat we were about to visit was suspected. He had a habit that he funded by a petty crime and a list as long as you’re arm.

But suspicion isn’t proof and who knows if it was Kevin shitting on his own doorstep or some other junkie acquaintance.

The door was open by the time we reached the last turn on the stairs. Mrs Armstrong, 60 and looks it, cigarette in hand, standing arms crossed, ready to greet us.

“About fucking time” she spat the words at us.

Maybe the community policing officer should have made more of an effort charming this old boiler.

I’ll try and remember to bring that up at the next community policing team meeting.

Stevie did the formalities, not that Mrs Armstrong was interested in our names, ranks or badge numbers.

“I don’t give a fuck son, but you too aren’t going to clean up this mess with stupid wee car of yours.”

I left Stevie to explain that we were just the initial response team and if there was a need to call for backup then we would have more resources on the scene as necessary.

I allowed myself a brief smile at Mrs Armstrong’s retort to Stevie’s by the book explanation of police procedure.

“What-fucking-ever son, just get that wee bastard out of here.”

No love lost there then.

I gave the door the cursory police style knock, three rapid thumps, a three second pause and then and another three thumps, already knowing that it was a pointless exercise and there might be a body here but nobody was home.

Stevie arrived with a quizzed look on his face. This was his first attendance at a death scene and he was keen to know the procedure on the drive over.

I stepped back from the door.

“Have a look through the letter box”. I told him.

He bent his knees slowly, placed one hand on the letterbox and used the other to push the metal flap of the letterbox inwards.

I took a step back, I knew what was coming next.

The sickeningly sweet pungent aroma of death was carried on the air by a micro swarm of flys and bluebottles.

Stevie jumped to his feet and was three steps down from the landing in an instant, bent double, one hand on the wall holding himself up, the other over his mouth as he retched through his fingers.

I gave him a minute to compose himself then shoulder charged the door.

Facebook Stalkers!

David Bowie

4am and wide awake, browsing the web and checking social media.

A cousin of mine shared the following potentially scary post –

This is creepy. Go to your Facebook account settings, then blocking, then block users, and type in “following me” without the quotes into the text box then hit the “block” button.

You will find 15-20 or more people

FOLLOWING YOU that you do not know! I just blocked about 17 accounts from random Middle Eastern and Asian countries that were following me, who I do not know. You have to block them one at a time.

Check your followers and tell your friends and family to check theirs as well. Feel free to share this or copy/paste.

This is not a joke. How many foreign “followers” did you have?

Try it yourself. You’ll be surprised.

At first I was a bit concerned, I followed the instructions above and sure enough there were all sorts of weird foreigners following me.

But why? .. I thought.

So I checked a few of them out from different parts of the world.

All strangers with no reason to follow me.

Then it clicked that it was a hoax or someone was being really stupid.

Here’s why!

It’s a hoax. FB doesn’t work like that as there is no “following me” keyword built into the system.

Try doing the same search only using “following”. You’ll probably get one user with name “following the lights”.

Now do the “following me” again and look at the list of names.

They all have “me” in them.

These people are not following you.

Basically you just did a name search and they happen to be first on the list.

If you blocked them , then searched again, you’d have another list of “me”‘s.

Keep blocking and searching. You’ll be there a long long time.

And nobody is that popular! 🙂

It’s a hoax, a wind up or originally posted by someone who doesn’t know anything about search systems.

Wolf – Once?



I hadn’t heard from her in over a year, since that last mad Friday before Christmas when Glasgow goes nuts for the day.

Just like everywhere else.

The city centre is full of drunken works party nights, fights erupting because the alcohol has lowered the inhibitions and given the pent up frustrations a voice, or a fist.

Guys making complete arses of themselves trying to get off with that office girl they fancy, who isn’t really interested, but he’s hoping to catch her in a weak moment.

Worse .. the office girl giving it to the lecherous and probably married boss, then regretting it the next morning after she wakes up alone to find that he’s disappeared back to the wife at 3am.

She called me drunkenly at 1am asking me to join her and her friends at some club in town.

She swore down the phone that she loved me, despite that fact that she was 6 months pregnant with her and her husband’s fourth child. Continue reading “Wolf – Once?”