Hail, Hail (Eastside accent)

Goal! One-nil Hibs. The difference between this and nearly-this-time-last-year's Desmond (that's a two-two draw - made that up today - I thank you) was the reserve in the tank that JC has instilled (or is that distilled?) in these lads.

The fans were on fire.

"What's it like to shag a hun"..... Whaaaaaat's it like to shag a hun!"

"Hun-shaggin bastard, you're just a hun-shaggin bastard!" -

sang the Hibees to Caldwell, ex-Hibs captain in central defence for Celtic, in reference to the married man's dalliances with a wee Rangers FC employee.

"Zibi, Zibi" sang the same lads to the poor Polish Celtic keeper. Woeful display. Strachan was published last week".."best goalkeeper in the world". I'll get yer coat, Gordon.

"Dressed like a Weegie" (Capitalised? - I'm being generous of course) "Strachan's dressed like a Weegie" sang the Hibs fans to the wee gaffer in his shell-suit pacing the touchline five yards to the left of Hibs's own Saville Row connoisseur.
Ohh the Hibees are gay indeed.

We're only here for the banter.

Celtic equalise and it's Rebel Central with bullshit rebel folk-songs from the unshaven tongues of the Maryhill massive. (They'd a banner today - "Hibs." (Fullstop - nearly-grammar) "Celtic's feeder Club since 1888" - Whatever!!!)

40 minutes, just before the half-time whistle " oh yes " 2-1! - Hibs goin into the dressing room hearts a pumpin with "we-can-do-this" attitude.

Half-time is joyous. Meet a mate who's paid £10 to have his name printed on a big flag/banner that floats over the heads of the Hibs West Stand. Mug.

Second half and they pull another equaliser out the bag that puts us on the backfoot.
Yes, Celtic equalise again after Hibs fail to provide support to the front men for too long.
Shiels, a sub in the 1st half for Fletcher, is farked. Tracking back is poor. McCann loses possession on occasion but is fantastic in his attempts to recompense. Brian Kerr = Not-Scott-Broon + a coupla mistakes - but what a shift! Boozy is a revelation in the centre at the back. A Frenchman meggin Celtic midfielders...to be Franck. Murphy is carrying some beef at inside left but moves to left-back after Stevenson is removed for gifting the Celts their 1st equaliser with a header that shoulda gone right or back but was headed into the path of a right midfield Celt...the difference.

. Whoa, but the sub is the spark. Wee Mama Zemamma the man. Antoine (like Benji - sign o' the times wi his first name on the strip) is hustling all game - what energy. We get a shot fi the wee man Zemamma and Shiels scoops up the rebound from "the world's best goalie".

"We are unbeatable!" sing the home fans as they clap the team off at full-time. Riordan at 90 mins (throw of the dice that gains 30seconds more in injury time too) - is ineffective. The most aggressive invective was saved for Killen. Rehabilitated at Hibs but shat on us unlike Scotty Broon (unbooed all day btw). JC (Collins, not Caesar or Christ) is last off with his fists in the air.

The Cask & Barrel allows me to take in a Saha dive against the Russians (instant karma's gonna get you, Roman) that finishes off the North London raised nose brigade. Read Rod Liddle for that, no me. Nail. Head. Hit.

Scotland lose by 40 at the rugby. I've a pound on a 35-point deficit. Bummer - last 2 minute try.

Statto : New Zealand - pop. 3 mil. Scotland pop. 5 mil. NZ - 300,00 registered rugby players. Scot - 35,000 registered rugby players. Deal with it!

The Windsor Buffet allows me to chat the hind legs off my homeboys and old Economics teacher on all these subjects. Rugby aside - "3 Pints of IPA please" said a man in an Oddfellows accent - Leith is the place to be tonight!


Hibees, Hibees!!!




(Hey, Xile cannae hide the money!!)