Welcome Back – Hands Across the M8

Those of you not fortunate enough to endure existence in Caledonia (stern and wild) under the benevolent and all-intruding rule of Wee Nippy (aka Mother Nicola)  probably don’t care very much about the football-related tribal strife which has, on occasion, stained our national name.

Wow. Just wow! That’s a whole paragraph with one sentence. Mind, I’m swithering a wee bit about whether it needs a comma after ‘wild)’ and ‘Nicola)’.


Moving on. As I slide reluctantly towards the exit, I have to say that it will always be a joy when things go pear-shaped for any sad wastes of space who believe that they occupy the moral high ground on any matter. Anytime. Anywhere.  Anywhy. 

I have never had much time for Oliver Cromwell but he struck the gong right on the button, in my opinion, when he wrote to my Presbyterian ancestors:-

I beseech you, in the bowels of Christ, think it possible that you may be mistaken.

I will always march to that particular drum. Although, to be fair, I believe that he should have used an ‘?’ at the end of his beseeching.

The Huns are clearly bad people. Everybody in Jockland knows this. More, and worse, they are not the same Huns as we used to have. Those Huns got buried under unsustainable debt and consigned to the Outer Darkness for ever. Didn’t they?

Well, no they didn’t. It took them a while but they are back. Proud to say that us Jambos delayed  their resurrection  by a year  but the fact remains that they are  back from never being away.  And as vibrant a part of Scottish football as they will, I hope, always  be. We need to remember Slim Jim,  the Famous Five, The Terrible Trio, the Lisbon Lions and all the rest. Baggage indeed but our baggage, 

So, JW. Congratulations. A deserved victory. Good luck in the Final.









7 thoughts on “Welcome Back – Hands Across the M8”

  1. Phew! For the briefest of moments I thought that I had fallen out of your graces. As you clearly meant another, less civilised sort of Hun than mine, I am much relieved.

  2. Haw, Christopher.

    Always a joy!

    When are you coming back to visit us in Embra? I’ve lost 5 stone since last October and am becoming seriously, and very annoyingly, bouncy. I’ll run you ragged next time.

    Mrs M sends her regards and Dougal sends woofs.

  3. JM: I should have a month-holiday in August and will be in Dorset for a week in the middle of the month. A quick flight north would not be an impossible undertaking. Please send Mrs M and Dougal my regards!

  4. oh come Moffat, JM, in the baggage stakes, how could you not mention Aggie, the tea lady from St. Johnstone? Souey still has nightmares about her.

    A decimal point of order. The Presbyterians slight delay was not entirely due to Hearts, the whole was completed by the accursed Motherwell.

    Ancient history. In the here and now, played the piggeries off the park on Sunday. The treble is on. Can’t see the plebs brexiting us from Europe.

  5. Aye right. JW!

    Your team has, so far, been mince against said plebs tonight, with all due respect.

    OK, the score at half-time is 2:! for Ex-Jambos v Non-Jambos but that’s no consolation when the Leiith lot are winning. Gonnae pull the digit oot in the second half?

    I just remembered that I have bought a pie off Aggie and shaken her hand.

  6. Ach weel, JW. No that bothered, except for the Bairns.

    You were the better team at the end of the day. Sunset on Leith,Cup-Final time.

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