Forrest’s Fairytale, Fans' Fiesta, and Fake Rumours - Celtic Da Weekly
What you want me to do? Spell rumours with an F?
Hello, good morning and welcome to the Celtic Da Weekly. That’s right, Wednesday. What about it?
What a weekend, eh? The timalloys clinch another title (how many is that now - I’ve no idea, I only count the consecutive ones) and the celebrations blasted off like health and safety compliant fireworks, lit from a suitable distance. Liam McGrandles unplugged was either a surprise twist or someone simply forgot to pair their bluetooth speaker—either way, it made us appreciate him all the more because the alternative soundtrack was, frankly, criminal. The entire event felt like being 13 and only being allowed one bottle of beer at New Year. You know you should be enjoying yourself but can’t shake that “is this it?” feeling.
I couldn’t have been the only one sat there waiting in vain for “Simply the Best.” “Next one… no? This one? Surely now?” Nada. Our DJ proved far less fearless than the Twitter admin. We might not need another hero, but a cheeky chorus of Tina Turner would’ve been the perfect slap in the face of our neighbours. We’ve taken your record, now we’ve come for your record. Next season I want us to win two bikes for something or other. And a selection of ceramics from around the world.
That missed moment perfectly captures the sanitised circus we endure nowadays. Barring the Green Brigade from a proper trophy-lifting tifo was a gutless, “beige-as-a-Labour-politician-asked-to-explain-his-vision” boardroom diktat—designed to make the day as bland and uncontroversial as the team’s “both eyes on the cup final” performance on the pitch.
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