As far as I am concerned, he should be on the telly, with his own show, like Rory Bremner.
I find it particularly hilarious when he’s pretending to be a journalist or when he’s pretending to be impartial or especially pretending to be a football expert.
He is none of these things of course, and nor is his impersonation of them up to much, but it’s funny watching him try.
He tries to do funny too, on occasion, but when he’s doing that he sounds likes the worst end-of-pier hack you can imagine.
If you’ve ever listened to Radio Clyde when he’s on you’ll know what I mean. That his fellow panellists appear to find him hilarious is a sure sign of their own intellectual prowess. I can actually feel myself lose IQ points listening to that show.
Johnstone’s recent Evening Times column is probably the funniest thing I’ve seen from him in ages though. His demands for apologies, for contrition (from everyone; the press, the clubs, the bloggers, the tax office, the bank, the BBC, everyone, indeed, but those at Rangers who dropped their club into the abyss and almost took Scottish football with them) and his exhortation that the enemies of the club will never be forgotten or forgiven was the kind of petulant rant Jim Traynor himself might have balked at publishing under his own name.
Equally hilarious, of course, was Keith Jackson, raining down opprobrium on Craig Whyte, calling him every name under the sun. Remember the first thing he called Whytey? A billionaire with “wealth off the radar” wasn’t it? For this they give out journalism awards. Those ceremonial evenings must end with the self-congratulation of a group of down and outs who’ve won prizes for the nicest boxes under a bridge. And they sneer at the bloggers …
I understand why Sevco Rangers fans are singing the blues. They’ve seen their club die. They’ve seen its resurrected corpse appropriated by men you wouldn’t buy a musical doorbell from. They’ve got a manager who’s frankly useless but is too expensive to sack, heading into the most important season in their short history, one with epochal consequences for failure and they are dependent on the only over-thirties strike-force in history that’s got to have improved with age. Their current custodians are people they pray don’t have the courage of their “convictions”, their “white knight” has his own history on the wrong side of the law and their fans are divided, their spokesman either cardboard cut-outs or worse, self-promoters who’ve backed every spiv who’s got his hands on the front door keys. Yes, I understand how hard all that must be.
Their world has been torn asunder. Their notion of superiority has been ripped apart. Their bully boy tactics didn’t frighten the bank or the tax authorities. They didn’t dissuade Whyte from burning it all down and Charles Green left with his pockets bulging and his big Yorkshire hands still able to grab more. The chairmen who voted No to the NewCo don’t preside over shattered clubs in a shattered league but one that will be in rude health if Sevco make it over the line to join them at the top table.
I understand why Sevco fans feel frustration and fear. They planned to grow the best crop of youngsters in the country, arriving in the top league with a settled side, a club that was healed and with money in the bank. Instead they’re a basket case, financially shot and depending on an ever revolving door of share issues to “grow the business”, structuring their plans around the very same “depend on European income” strategy that killed the OldCo stone dead and kidding themselves on that there are two more years in McCulloch, that three years of playing against part time players has made Ian Black a top midfielder and that Kenny Miller will one day score goals for them in Champions League. When he’s forty maybe.
They have good reason to be angry, and to be afraid. Let’s face it, when you look at their leaders you can see they were never the sharpest tools in the box either. All Whytey had to do was learn the words of The Sash My Father Wore and the whole thing was his for a pound. All Green had to do was claim to have Rangersitus and make himself a Naked Video parody for a Christmas message and he could empty their wallets to his hearts content.
The fans, at least, can be excused their wailing and their gnashing of teeth.
What excuse does the media have for writing such utter cobblers? What the Hell are they doing, feeding these people and their paranoia? Enemies lists, for God’s sake? They might as well be painting targets on people’s backs. The bombers and the bullet senders must be beavering away in their skivvies as I write this, dreaming of revenge.
We have a media in this country that elevates irresponsibility to an art form. For all the bloggers are accused of spreading hate, our readerships are small fry compared to the media which frequently stirs the soup and appeals to the lowest common denominator. In the last few days I have read Rangers sites which have asked their own club’s fans to move on, but the writers of these pieces don’t get themselves on the news, although their message is sensible, and measured, and most definitely for the good of their club and the game as a whole.
Instead we see assorted half-wits and nut-jobs pushing the stab-in-the-back myth on a support who are looking for a distraction after another year of self-inflicted wounds, appalling stories, setbacks and evidence of incompetence and greed.
The media has no interest in the voices of moderation. That’s not newsworthy. They are like schoolyard monitors who, instead of looking out for all the kids, pay attention only to those with the shrillest screams. They, themselves, are the biggest pushers of the fear drug and the hate drug, the biggest peddlers of the Armageddon myth and the “enemies of Rangers” lie.
They do it because it sells. They operate on division. They exist on it. They are the ones who, for far too long, pushed the Old Firm brand because it was their bread and butter, even more than it was for the clubs. It was a phrase almost universally detested by the Celtic fans, and I suspect that Rangers fans too wanted nothing to do with it, but our journalists depended on it because by associating themselves with a rivalry famous throughout the game it made them more credible when they mixed with real writers, those who actually work for a living as opposed to regurgitating press statements and writing spin on behalf of their pals.
When Rangers fans blame sections of the media for what happened to them they are on to something, but it’s not those who tried to expose the truth, like Mark Daley and Alex Thomson, who they should be singling out for the abuse. They should be focussed on the hack-pack who were either too lazy or too conflicted to chase facts, who ignored evidence, who were too busy turning PR copy into articles and who, in the first place and without a single bit of research to back up their claims, lauded Whyte, Green, Stockbridge, Murray, Ahmed, Easdale, Wallace and others, every single one of whom was exposed, early, on the blogs, as being full of it.
Rangers fans can never, ever say they weren’t warned or kept informed, because they were. They just didn’t like the people who were telling them all this … but we gave them what the media never did, and can never be relied on to do. We gave them the truth.
I am sorry they didn’t like what they heard. Sometimes, when someone tells you the facts, you don’t like it, and that is all we did, and we didn’t do it to destabilise them, because their club was in the hands of people so without a clue, so without a plan, so without a care as to what happened to Rangers, that the very best thing we could have done, if we wanted to cause the maximum trouble, the maximum damage, was do nothing at all. To keep silent. To let things run their course.
If you think they are crying the blues now, imagine how much worse the psychological damage to them would have been had we not laid the groundwork for them accepting the bad news when it came. They looked for agendas, and they still do, but I cannot understand how they can see twisted motives in our efforts to warn them about the kind of people they had in charge, at a time when they might still have done something about it.
To those Sevco fans who occasionally post on this blog, who accuse me of peddling hate, who have said I am a bigot because I persist in using the Sevco name instead of merely calling their club Rangers, which in all fairness I cannot do because the club they want me to refer to is dead, I would ask that they point out one instance of “peddling hate” on this blog.
I freely admit to detesting a section of their support, the section that will not engage with the rest of the world, the section that wallows in hate, that preaches supremacy, that glorifies war, the section that promotes a “culture” it barely understands and which sees “enemies” everywhere, except inside the club’s own walls …
But I would stipulate that any rational person would despise these people, and that following Celtic is not a pre-requisite for that.
Indeed, I know full well that my feelings are echoed in the stands at Ibrox, by people who feel every bit as much loathing for those folk as I do myself. I understand their reluctance to speak up, but want them to know that they have friends and supporters at other clubs who will be there if they ever make their voices heard and claim their club from the degenerate elements who play such a role in keeping it a backward looking mess.
I do not hate Rangers, and I never have. Indeed, a healthy Sevco Rangers would be a positive force in the Scottish game, if it were rid of its sectarian baggage and its ideologues, if it embraced multiculturalism and internationalism instead of retreating behind the Union Jack and if it put aside this nonsensical and divisive embrace of militarism and war.
Once upon a time Rangers was a working class club, with its roots in its community, instead of one that swore allegiance to a hereditary monarchy, embraced the mentality of an age-old empire and seemed more interested in hating enemies than it is with making friends.
Whilst they were on top, Rangers preyed on the weakness of other Scottish sides, taking their players for nominal fees and even sending one club, Airdrie, to the grave over an unpaid debt with a sneer and barely a moment for pause. They bent the rules and corrupted the institutions that govern the game. They were not averse to pulling players out of Scotland squads when it suited them, or to nicking a national coach. They were prone to wailing every time they were taken to task for something and they, long before Neil Lennon moaned about referees, were pointing out officials with Irish surnames and stoking conspiracy theories.
They spent money they didn’t have on players they couldn’t afford. They hid those contracts from the authorities and when they were caught red handed they escaped all punishment for that, even as the governing body was expelling teams from the Scottish Cup for failing to sign one piece of paper, and imposing draconian fines which could have closed those clubs down.
They had a media which made excuses for them in the face of sectarian songs, which blamed others for riots and outbreaks of disorder and which was willing to argue the finer points of whether The Billy Boys was really a sectarian song.
Rangers as “victims” is a notion that’s a little hard to stomach. When they were on top they lorded it over the game with a breath-taking arrogance, and even in death they learned no lessons and found no humility … and they wonder why the Sevco NewCo is not greeted with open arms and respect everywhere it goes, and in everything it does.
The media is helping to push the line that we owe that club an apology.
No, no and thrice no. They owe Scottish football an apology, but most of us long since stopped waiting for it. We’d settle, instead, for a period of self-imposed silence … but we’re not going to get that either, are we?
They’re singing the blues again.
I wish they’d change this tune, and I wish the media would stop teaching the next generation the words.
Their irresponsibility is mind-numbing, and even when it comes from Derek Johnstone it’s more dangerous than it is funny.
These people are a disgrace to a once proud profession.
In pushing the “victim” myth they are rewriting history from the gutter.
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