Here we go again, the unwanted guest has jumped in the passenger seat. Let’s analyse – paralyse.
Just ignore him, treat him like that old drunken fool who shouts at you in the street. Just think about something else… but this shouting keeps coming the walls go higher.
The unwanted guest is now in the driving seat, your thoughts are on a hamsters wheel. There is a 100 mph garbage truck now being driven round you mind by the unwanted guest.
He’s picking little files from your memory, some of it from two decades ago, most of it is minimal and pointless but anything to make you feel bad about yourself. The file issues are tenfold and the garbage truck is screeching ‘but what if’ and when you try and get the truck to slow down ‘but what if’ springs another pile of garbage at you. The internal lying critic.
Modern Day Plague
Guilt-Fear-Doubt on a hamsters wheel. Let it be, give it space is the only thing to do.
It’s okay again and we’re on a ladder rising to ‘whatever’ with a good and neutral mindset. We must take care of ourselves and keep healthy though to avoid the garbage truck starting his journey. I will be fine, my family will be fine. I’ll get another job if need be. I can use my credit card.
It’s starting again, the cost of living under a greedy hubristic Tory government, it’s on the news it’s already affecting you. Jobs under threat and strikes for better living whilst they push inflation up. Half the adult population on medication. Rising fuel prices, energy companies competing for a better deal for you! Not them, for you. The gas and electricity all comes out the same fuckin pipe but never mind that. And the cyclical starts, we’re falling down the snake …
The unwanted guest is sitting at the bottom in his garbage truck and we fall into the passenger seat and we’re off. Reaching 100 mph … and we are a piece of dog toffee, unloved, useless and it’s all going to go pear shaped. Think of something positive and the garbage trucks wall comes higher and throws more bin bags at us. We always were weak, incoming paranoia. You may as well have weirdo in flashing lights written on your forehead.
I walk the walk and talk the talk. Been there and I got the t-shirt as well.
He was the first black player to play for Scottish club Celtic and was the father of poet and musician Gil Scott-Heron.
Spotted by a scout from Celtic when the club was on tour in North America and he was signed by the Scottish club in 1951 after being invited over for a trial. Becoming the first black player for Celtic, and one of the first to play professionally in Scotland, Heron went on to score on his debut on 18 August 1951 in a League Cup tie against Morton that Celtic won 2–0. Heron only played five first-team matches in all, scoring twice. He was released by the club the next year after making one appearance in the Scottish football (having been unable to displace the established John McPhail and joined Third Lanark where he played in seven League Cup matches, scoring five goals but did not appear in the League.
It’s a very important part in Celtic’s history, culturally and also musically. At Holywell Street we have big affection for Gil Scott Heron the son of our famous player.
Scott-Heron’s work has influenced writers, academics and musicians. His work during the 1970s influenced and helped engender subsequent African-American music genres, such as hip-hop He has been described by music writers as “the godfather of rap”
Throughout the 1970s and early 80s, Scott-Heron used his songs to rail against the Vietnam war, the drugs and alcohol, the Watergate scandal and racial injustice.
Going with the culture and music vibe. Holywell Street would like to pay tribute to both legends one the player and one the musician/political activist.
I’m sick of those browns coming stealing our benefits Bill says to Bob. I’m sick of them scrotes stealing our benefits and them disabled’s!
But I don’t mind having surgery for free on the NHS cos I smoke 20 a day, binge drink every weekend and put three for 100 up my conk whenever the wife lets me out.
“More Gammon and Carling Bill?”
“Right you are Bob”
“Another thing Bill, I’m getting really riled with them lot vandalising and trying to knock over our statues, I’m sick of it. It’s usually them paki lovers.”
“You are so right Bob and if anyone says otherwise they should be threatened and attacked on the spot”
Just because we wave our Union jacks it does not mean we are right-wing.
“Bill, you see all them foreigners coming over and stealing our jobs? If I could work I would be picking that fruit and picking up them spuds night and day myself”
“You are correct Bob, they’ve spoilt it, but listen mate, we are going on us hollibobs soon with our wives. I’m reading Majorca has the best Sunday Roast eatery in the whole of Spain, it’s run by a bloke from Morley in Leeds. He also does proper breakfast’s with proper bacon and British butter and has Carling on draft. I wouldn’t mind moving there myself”.
“Good idea Bill”
“I’m glad they got Brexit done though Bob, it’s been like our Independence Day and we have a blue passport to show for it”
Poppy the Bulldog is sitting foaming at the mouth, this could be down to heavy breathing, distress, agitation or anxiety.
“Give him some Carling Bill“
“Great idea Bob. Looking forward to the Jubilee mate?”
It looks as if Paul John Dykes might have struck gold with his latest book The Celtic Jersey.
The gallery and stories of the Celtic jerseys of the past is his forth publication following on from …
The Quality Street Gang, Smiler and Hoops Stars & Stripes.
Here at HWS we are nostalgic in all things Celtic from major to minor detail. Myself and Paul were recently discussing which hooped tops went with which player and which years, Being the trainspotter I am, I recently decided to invest in all the remakes of the kits I wore as a kid from around 1980. This is why I’m eager to see PJD’s gallery.
“A match worn jersey from virtually every one of the home and away shirt variations worn by the club over the last 90 years”
Paul John Dykes’ second book named Smiler was a tribute to club legend Neilly Mochan. This was an interesting read as well, being very well presented with a artistic front cover. The research that went into this book recording immense detail on Mochan’s life was one of the best I’ve read on Celtic’s past legends.
I have no doubt The Celtic Jersey will be another piece of good work. A coffee table book basically showing a gallery of the Celtic jersey, what is not to like; it is a keeper.
On the 4th December 1982 Celtic win their first League Cup since 1974 against Rangers at Hampden. This trophy always seemed to be a bit of a bogey for us. The only player from that ‘74 win still with us was Danny McGrain.
I always recall Rangers being no threat to Celtic in the early ‘80s. It was Aberdeen and Dundee United that were our challengers for the league. However, Rangers always seem to win this trophy despite coming forth in the premier league on occasion.
So, although we were the reigning League Champions and a far better team, I didn’t know how this would pan out. The weather was appalling, heavy rain on a cold December. The north terrace at Hampden was closed for repairs so the crowd wasn’t capacity, just the two terraces behind the goals and the main stand. The Celtic terracing was uncovered and theirs sheltered in line with their superiority complex with SFA deciding to not cover the Mount Florida end of the ground.
I reminisce to the 1981 and 1982 years when the song “we’ve won the league again fly the flag” was born. This was to the tune of the British Airways advert “we’ll take good care of you”. The Rangers end had their version this day: “we hate the I.R.A. fuck the pope” which was quite a standard reaction for them.
I remember the old Hampden terraces being made of wood and grit which meant if a goal was scored there was like a smoke would go up and on a day of horizontal rain it certainly was not ideal. No way was it a normal warm cup final spectacle.
Into the match and Celtic are very dominant and showing why they are the champions. On the 22 minute mark Charlie Nicholas receives a pass from Davie Provan and he finds the smallest of gaps to squeeze in the opening goal. The Celtic end erupts and stops the Rangers end singing one of their sectarian ditties about the IRA. Nicholas was my hero, the coolest player from that era with a cracking wedge haircut. He was an outstanding talent and on the radar of many English clubs and was promoted as the next Kenny Dalgleish
It was around the 30 minute mark that Murdo McLeod put us two up with a complete thunderbolt. Celtic were cruising and Rangers could not get a grip on the match. They had one shot on goal in the first half.
Just into the second half Jim Bett scored for Rangers with a free-kick that completely caught the Celtic defence out and Pat Bonnar perhaps being out sighted looked stranded.
There was a few shaky moments in the second half, but Celtic were worthy winners with a 2-1 win. The man of the match for us was Davie Provan. He didn’t just set up our two goals his passing and movement throughout the game was immense.
This was perhaps one of my most memorable games growing up watching Celtic. The league title was fought out between Celtic and Aberdeen on the last day of the season, Celtic v St Mirren at Parkhead and Aberdeen v Rangers at Pittodrie.
I was a 12 years-old two-tone fanatic with a crew cut whilst acknowledging a shift in styles from jeans to sta-press and skins to wedge haircuts. One of the things that drew me to the matches at Celtic Park was the sheer volume and noise of the jungle, especially at a big match.
The league title should have been wrapped a couple of weeks before on the 3rd May on a wet Monday bank holiday. This was also against St Mirren in a game in hand, we only manage a 0-0 draw; this was after defeating Hibs 6-0 two days before at Celtic Park.
So, it’s up to Tannadice on Saturday the 8th May to play Dundee United and we require a draw to win the championship. United back then were also a very good outfit under Jim McLean and they had been up the top of the table challenging in the much of early ‘80s.
We come a cropper in this match losing 3-0 and it’s all about questioning the minerals of Celtic for the last game of the season .
The 15th May 1982 is very vivid in my memory every time Celtic win the championship I can’t help but reminisce back to it. Me and my guardian for the day Stevie Burns arrive at the Janefield Street and I get the obligatory lift over the turnstiles, I still managed this but I know I’m growing in size.
The noise is immense, the soldiers song is in full flow as we walk through the middle of the jungle. The music on the tannoy is either chart music or the Celtic song by Glen Daly. The other tannoy favourite at the time is Wild Rover and after the first line of the chorus there is a chant of “God Bless the Pope” from most of the terracing. That was our heritage music at the time. I recall the jungle also chanting “Argentina” this was in support of the Malvinas conflict; the reaction from the police was a picture to behold, wanting to react but couldn’t.
The game was very tense much like the 0-0 draw the week before where St Mirren fielding a young Frank McAvennie and dug in and parked their badger bus. Celtic had a good season but were missing both Charlie Nicholas and Frank McGarvey through injury. The main chance in the first-half was a ball about to fall to Murdo McLeod from a cross but young Danny Crainie put his head to it when he should have left it for McLeod.
So, half-time arrives and the tension is increasing. Obviously the old Rangers had their flip-flops on at Pittodrie and it’s Aberdeen 4 Rangers 0.
Coincidentally, the scenario is, if Celtic get beat and Aberdeen beat Rangers by four goals then we lose the title. So it’s job done for Aberdeen.
At 0-0 I didn’t think anyone thought we would lose to St Mirren. It was tense, however, in the 62nd minute Celtic took the lead through George McCluskey with a screamer to the top corner showing our intent. All through the match I was sitting at the top of the exit for number 8 in the jungle. Each time Celtic attacked a group of older men were ready to grab me; and that’s exactly what happened. This was the first time I had witnessed a goal with such relief and hysteria it took around two minutes for it to all calm down.
The final score 3-0 to Celtic with McCluskey again and Tom McAdam grabbing the other one.
The Celtic boards Tom foolery stating the attendance of 39,699 on this day was an interesting one. Perhaps the rest of crowd got lifted over the turnstile.
An emotional day and summed up by the terraces chanting Johnny Doyle. “We won the league for Doyle.
The Bowling Club bar was a place me and John Paul would also hang around in during the midweek days. It became like a hub during those mind-numbing unemployed weeks in the hope just to numb out the mind-boggling melancholy whilst watching horizontal rain rattling off the window. We always had visions of moving abroad to maybe live in the sun and be unemployed there, at least it would be fuckin hot.
Whisky nose McCulloch, Bruce Campbell and Arch Thomson were also regulars in the bar during the week. You could never meet a bigger trio of bitter bullying auld twisters in all your living days. As much as they were cringe-worthy; you could always kick back and observe them and give it lashings of disdain or you could die of laughter or toe-curling. Whisky nose was christened his label due to his big red cricket ball nose as a result of his daily tipples of Bells whisky. He had a real resemblance to Sid James and consistently wore the same black shirt with small silver tassels on the collar, it reminded me of something that Johnny Cash would wear.
Bruce Campbell was an avid supporter of the Rangers. Although he would refer to them as “the fuckin Rangers” which sounded like that angry self-entitlement persona that a lot of their support seems to carry. Bruce’s regular attire was those adidas samba training shoes, snow wash pieces of denim, brown leather jacket with big flaps. Also prominent, was his tight curly hair almost pubic like, sporting a big brown moustache and silver-rimmed specs. Lager top was his favourite tipple preferably McEwan’s. He seemed to like that wee bit of froth on his moustache so he could lick it off. The year was 1987 and Rangers were sponsored by McEwans Lager. Also on the go was the McEwans Lager advert “you’ve got the power” by the band “Win” this gave Bruce a sense of belonging.
The three amigos were constantly trying to get us barred from the bowling club as we were “not of the correct calibre to own a membership to a respected establishment” This of course made things less boring which was a bit of a bonus in the grand scheme of things.
One dejected wet afternoon during the monotony, myself and John Paul was in the club drawing pictures and crushing beer mats whilst supping on Cola. We decided to sketch a music group consisting of Arch Thomson and his followers. The band was named “The Firemen” in opposition to “The Police” ironically because the video jukebox was playing Walking on the Moon and Arch is miming the words with his comrade Whisky Nose as they are playing dominos.
The cartoon drawings have Arch Thomson on vocals as he did seem to have the loudest aggressive persona, a bit like John Lydon but not in any good or talented way. Whisky nose was strumming the bass guitar giving it pure attitude. We then illustrated Bruce Campbell giving it big bashes on the drums much like he would in an orange walk scenario. An additional character who was quite harmless was auld Dougie. We threw him into the band and sketched him just standing there tapping a tambourine. Auld Dougie’s attire was a dead ringer for that Harry Enfield character’s with the catchphrase “Now I do not believe you wanted to do that, did you?”
Arch Thomson was at the bar ordering his drinks when we hear the rustle of a crisp packet and he’s looking straight over at us all macho whilst shaking a pack of ready salted crisps. Raymond the bartender has a pickled egg on a tablespoon and proceeds to drop it into the packet. Arch then gives the packet another shake and he is still glaring over at us with this “square-go-now-then-ya-cunt” expression”. It reminded me of a western movie but with crisps instead of a gun.
He didn’t seem to like us young dudes enjoying ourselves. Incidentally, this pickled egg and crisps mix was his lunch and it saves him from “going hame for dinner” he would often tell the regulars and “it is a balanced meal I’ll tell ye, and I sometimes add peanuts, full of nutrition”.
As we are drawing and imagining Arch singing in a band we can’t help but laugh like little girls, he then calls over “what’s wrong wi your kippers”? To this day I have no idea what this means. As he is munching on the crisps he gives us the obligatory fantasy threat again: “you lot are no so clever when I see you in Tesco and you go white wi fear!”. This comment has been thrown at us many times. So, once again me and John Paul need to inform him and for the benefit of his audience that “we have never seen you in Tesco” John Paul additionally highlights the famous Socrates quote: “Aye mate, when the debate is lost, slander becomes the tool of the loser”.
Predictably, Raymond, the barman rolls over and attempts to defuse any potential tension. He informs us: “I don’t believe in mindless violence gents so can we all keep things civil, the club has a good reputation”. Of course, he only seems to be looking in our direction with his request. This will be due to his fear of Arch and him also being a supporter of the Rangers I would strongly predict. Raymondo always wore a Scotland or a British Lions rugby shirt and this would alternate each day. Today it was the British Lions. His head was always shaved to the bone and it always looked as if he would polish it with some sort of oil making it shine like a pool ball.
Incidentally, Raymond was very impressed with our sketch. It was John Paul’s handy work he did have good talent and had flirted with going to art school in the past.
“That is talented drawing lads,” Raymondo tells us, possibly in a deflection tactic. He was so impressed he asked if he could have the drawing having no idea who the characters were. We obliged, and to this day the picture of a band named The Firemen hangs above the Bar at the Bowling Club; with only JP and myself knowing who the characters are.
Sitting away from the crowd were two great gentlemen. Eric Boland and Professor Yaffle who had no liking for Arch et al. Eric was a really good soul who used to crush your hand after a few beers and tell us: “I’ve just rode into town” this was likely down to his fondness of Western movies. His physique was still solid for being in his sixties and he wore a deerstalker hat at all times. The deerstalker added to his character, I loved it when he tied the ribbons under his chin whilst he tippled his glass of whisky with his pinky hanging out.
I think Eric had a bit of bitterness running through him. As legend has it, he was a famous Rugby Union player who went down to the north of England to play Rugby League where he would earn money for his trade. This was seen as the cardinal sin resulting in cliquey rugby union people disengaging with him. Arch and Whisky Nose seemed to judge him on this decision as well by just jumping on the small town bandwagon.
Eric did not care and would inform us “see that lot at the bar, thir a waste o claes” referring to Arch et al. “Fackin arseholes”. JP and I could certainly relate to this.
Professor Yaffle seemed to be Eric’s right-hand man but he would just sit there and say nothing but laugh with this “nyick nyick nyick” tone. This resulted in us baptising him “Professor Yaffle” in honour of the carved woodpecker from the ‘70s children’s programme Bagpuss. He just so happened to wear those round lensed specs as well like John Lennon
Professor Yaffle’s full name was, “Augustus Barclay Yaffle”, he normally was the brains of the outfit, or so he’d like to think. He was very knowledgeable. However, our bowling club version is quite a complex character who just nods in unison with Eric and us.
Eric would tell us stories and give a sideways glance swinging his thumb towards Yaffle for confirmation, “he’ll tell ye” … and the Yaffle would just respond with a smile proceeded by that woodpecker squawk. JP and I would love just sitting there, we had much love for the two men and their mad sense of humour and we related to it; possibly out of boredom but who gives a fuck.
Eric was giving us his daily anecdote which always seemed to have a cowboy twist to them, mimicking a gun as he rode into town.
“I rode into town and dan the Old Kent Road and stopped for caviar and truffles”.
Our table of four was on that infectious laughter, in the moment vibe enhanced by Yaffle’s response. However, Arch Thomson is glaring over holding the invisible wheelbarrow posture.
As the beer and cola flowed Eric folded a beer mat into his mouth and in the name of fun with a London twang gave us a repetitive rant …
Dan the Old Kent Rowd
Dan the Old Kent Rowd
Dan the Old Kent Rowd
This set us all off in infectious hilarity and watching the dead beat response from Arch et al made this even more hilarious to the extreme.
Raymondo the barman was collecting glasses and was also not finding this amusing.
Arch does not seem to relate to this at all and responds by roaring over to us, “IRA bastards!”
Once again slander is in the air. Personal insults and slander – the last bastion of the loser in an argument which was not even an argument. With this bizarre accusation Raymond takes the easy way out asks us to leave the bowling club due to our apparent political views; all confirmed by the jury of Arch Thomson and encouraged by whisky nose McCulloch. By this point none of us can even find the passion to debate anything. We are still in laughter.
As we leave the club and approach the exit, Raymond is feeling a sense of strength and is guiding us out the door like a herd of sheep. Although we are leaving anyway and care-free about the whole situation. We observe Arch et al rubbing their hands with glee. However, Eric gives Raymondo a parting shot …
“Raymond, I see yer hair is getting very wavey at the back!”
“How’s that?” Raymond asks touching the back of his head with a confused look.
Eric let’s rip, “Waving fuckin goodbye!” while giving a parting wave goodbye to the bowling club.
Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him
Under a blue moon, I saw you So soon you’ll take me Up in your arms, too late to beg you Or cancel it, though I know it must be The killing time Unwillingly mine
I believe that the loss of personal bohemia causes nostalgia. Paradoxically, although nostalgia can be mentally draining for its practitioners, it is also part of what attracts the next generation of enthusiasts to the same vibe. When looking back at this counterculture it seems it was very grounding. I have always been a bit of a flaneur so looking for the next locale was perfect timing.
It’s 1983 and I’m walking through the Barrowlands in Glasgow on the London Road side of the market. Myself and a friend are dressed in post -Two-Tone attire with wedge haircuts and baggy jeans. Aberdeen appear.
I’ve heard it said and I agree, “Where’s the next scene?’ Nobody sees it coming, ah it’s over there.” – (Casuals DVD)
It was every Saturday in the mid to late ‘80s. Glasgow City Centre seemed to be occupied by us the (CSC “the Celtic Soccer Crew”) A lot of the time I’d recognise a face and a nod was given. Other times you would approach a group and anticipate it could go off. Some lads would interrogate by asking your authenticity with “say the Hail Mary”. However, as time proceeded into the late ’80s it just seemed to always be Celtic in the city centre.
Inevitably, before any home games; it was a dash from George Square, along the end of Argyle Street and it would kick-off on a big scale at the island in the middle of the road at Trongate. From there, the away firm would head onto the London Road side of the Barrowlands we would go the other way (the Gallowgate). The drill was to go through the Barras and catch the away mob as they walked up the London Road side of the market. Many a time on the corner a crowd of mods were gathered at the ice cream kiosk. I vividly recall the young ginger baby crew member from Posso would tag the first one and the rest would follow through. Mods, yesterdays subculture especially that second generation type, one dimensional with targets on their back, what did they expect.
Most weeks when Celtic played at home we would approach Bridgeton Cross there would be a mob gathered at the bandstand. Like clock work about 10 of the crew would make a dash over to this Bridgton Derry lot and they would bolt before any of us remaining had even followed through.
Celtic first went out as a crew in a Scottish Cup match in 30 January 1985. This was away to Hamilton under the name (RCC “the Roman Catholic Casuals”) which was not a decent or suitable moniker I think we can all agree.
My first outing was a couple of months later on 20 March 1985 at Celtic Park v Hearts. We numbered around 50 and we had positioned ourselves next to the Hearts fans in the old Rangers end at Parkhead. This was just before they put a fence and plastic screen down the middle of the terrace. All there seemed to be was police segregation. The attire was sportswear and those half ‘n’ half ski-hats which wasn’t exactly anti-suss; but I think at this stage we actually wanted to be noticed. I recall over hearing a Celtic supporter commenting: “I didn’t realise we has so many casuals” this would be on the assumption it was an Aberdeen thing or perhaps Motherwell.
At the age of 15, I was just loving the camaraderie, the labels worn but I am posturing as a foot soldier. It was also a good game to have chosen for antagonising the away support. Hearts took the lead and were two nil ahead within 30 minutes. However, Celtic pulled one back through Mo Johnston just before half-time. Late into the second half Murdo MacLeod equalised, then on 92 minutes Brian McClair scores the winner for Celtic. The raging Hearts fans are trying to break through and attack, they still have this Gorgie aggro Skinhead look among their support mixed in with their firm.
Going into the 85/86 season things were starting to change and grow. Sportswear was replaced by shirts and cords, more dress down anti-suss. An umbrella was an accessory for some and more shoes being seen then trainers. Boys were becoming men. The Celtic ski-hat had gone. The Celtic support thought they had got rid of their casuals. However, there was a much sinister not so obvious crew sitting opposite them at the bottom of the main stand at Celtic Park.
Being a roadie for young Stevie Dodds in Lochgelly.
Pogoing to Yeke Yeke
SEVCO fans dookin for wasps!
Cold Water exposure
Berocca and Avocado
Restoring yer classic adidas trainers.
St Pat the Dog
Pil payin pitba pum! (explanation given if required)
Losing it on a Friday afternoon.
Wearing the deerstalker hat in the workplace.
Pop Doodle instead of Pot Noodle.
Supping tea with Ross McKenzie.
Disco lifts by Shaun Kelly
Reading the bible in the bath.
Kellogg’s advert ‘it’s gonna be grrreat!’
Two hats in one day.
Song Lyric ‘the eye of the tiger, Cause I am a champion, and you’re gonna hear me rooaaaar!’
90’s Hard Core Rave Music! (never in)
Morrissey and his attention seeking right-wing rants.
People blaming the ‘winny works’ for today’s society problems.
Depression stigma number 300 ‘eat fruit’ by I’m alright Jack!
Mental Health Stigma number 310 ‘choose to be happy!’
The Sun Newspaper!
Heating or eating choices
Throbbers on holiday with Union Jack hanging over balcony.
Billy Campbell types from Norn Iron.
When folk ask ‘happening’ instead of ‘what’s happening?’
Guys wearing a t-shirt saying ‘I don’t need to google’ plastered over the front!
Jammy Tribute Acts.
restyled adidas Jeans trainers.
Blowies for Beak
The day after the day after … Beer fear!
Hangsxiety Beer Fear
Bobby Madden pandering to SEVCO NINJA ASSASSIN’s
Roasters in Town who kick off after a stripe
The ‘My life is so perfect’ crowd on Facebook!
That’s that! Keep on the Tramazi and the Cameron Diaz. Hug yer brers. Cheers now!! Never let yer public down … spin them right round, like a record baby right round. Remember … mirror, signal, manoeuvre and on ye go.
Any complaints speak to the HWS team at 94 Holywell Street next door to Celtic park (see below). Or come and visit us. Get Yersel’s roond.