Category: Uncategorized

By Tony B — 18th June

I don’t buy the Daily Mail, I don’t read the Daily Mail and I have that particular publication muted on social media.

As far as I am aware, they are the only mainstream UK newspaper to have been banned as a source by Wikipedia for being ‘generally unreliable’. To put that into context, Russia Today, the Russian State media news channel and propaganda outlet for Vladimir Putin regime, is still considered an acceptable citation for Wikipedia articles. Quite the achievement. 

Every once in a while, though, my attention is drawn to a headline that piques my curiosity and draws me in. Credit where it’s due, their subbies certainly earn their dough with their headers.

This morning I had a couple of folk alert me to an article by Gary Keown with a headline that suggested Brendan Rodgers period as Celtic Manager between 2016 and 2019 was somehow a failure. It’s an interesting take on a man who won precisely 100% of the domestic trophies available to him in that timeframe and left his successor well placed to see out the league title and in the quarter finals of the Scottish Cup en route to the 3rd of 4 consecutive domestic trebles.

The fear and pain at the prospect of Rodgers potential return was palpable throughout every paragraph. I think its fair to say that the prospect of a Rodgers return has ruined the summer for poor Gary.

It was an astonishing article and an incredible attack on a top class manager, who only be desribed as a failure by a failure if you were either deranged or a completely bitter man. I’ll let Gary decide which one of those categories he belongs to. Perhaps both, eh Gaz?

I’ll dissect the thrust of Keown’s article in a bit more detail in a minute, but a brief look back at some earlier articles give the indication that Gary might not exactly be objective in his outlook when it comes to Celtic.

The most astonishing thing about the article? It was based on a hypothetical scenario that exists only in the authors head. Unless I have missed a significant media release from Celtic, no managerial appointment has been made and there have certainly been no pronouncements from Brendan Rodgers on his European ambitions and looking to lead Celtic to a European final within 5 years. As I said to my old man this morning when speaking to him about it, one person who won’t be privy to internal discussions between Celtic and any managerial candidates and the fine detail of their contracts is Gary Keown.

Keown hasn’t always worked for an outlet deemed too unreliable for citation by Wikipedia. Back in 2015 he had unfettered access to Mark Warburton and The Rangers in his days with the Glasgow Times. The Rangers were still stuck in the 2nd tier of Scottish football in those days and in October 2015 (after 10 games) Keown had seen enough of then Manager, Mark Warburton, to decide that it was a huge coup for the Govan club to have him and that he wasn’t long for Scottish football and would be lured south, citing Fulham as a possible destination where their then gaffer, Kit Symons, was under pressure and would soon be dismissed.

Keown wasn’t alone in getting ahead of himself about the Rangers gaffer with fellow reporters touting him as a future England Manager. It’s a peculiar outlook that defines successas being 10 games unbeaten in the Scottish Championship whilst deeming a man who has had unparalleled domestic success as being a failure.

The following year, after seeing the much-vauntedWarburton side easily dismantled 5-1 going on 7 or 8 in the first Glasgow derby of the season, Keown delivered a puff piece ahead of the teams meeting in the semi final of the League Cup making all manner of excuses for their performance in that game and outlining how it’d be different and that we’d see the ‘real Rangers’ in the upcoming tie.

Rangers got out of Hampden with a 1-0 defeat but even the most ardent Rangers fan would concede that the scorelineflattered them as Celtic dominated and outclassed their opponents that day. It was as comprehensive a 1-0 win as you are likely to see.

Warburton never lasted too much longer and moved south back into obscurity. Keown, too, was also on the move from his employ with a Wiki credible newspaper to the ‘generally unreliable’ Daily Mail. In 2020, he penned an excitable article outlining how Steven Gerrard winning the title as Manager with Rangers would eclipse his achievements in Istanbul where he dragged his Liverpool team from a 3-0 half time deficit to become Champions of Europe.

Time and again Keown has shown he is simply incapable of objectivity in his reporting of Scottish football and bashes up an article which reads like something lifted from Follow Follow. Maybe it’s fitting then that he works for an outlet deemed less likely than Russia Today to be capable of accurate reporting. A joke reporter working for a joke organisation.

As for today’s article, where the hell do you start? I don’t routinely (well, ever) respond to articles from the SMSM. Life is too short. After a blether with HWS though, I agreed to fire over my response. I doubt Keown will ever see this, but he’ll probably consider it job done given the attention his article has received elsewhere across social media.

For a start, Rodgers would know – unlike Keown – that following this season, clubs will no longer drop down from the Champions League to the Europa.

I’ve already covered that the premise of the article was based on a fictitious version of events by Keown where Brendan Rodgers had stated he would lead Celtic to a Euro final in 5 years despite the fact he is yet to be appointed for a 2nd spell at Celtic Park and no such statement of ambition has ever been mentioned.

Lets face it, the only realistic potential route to a European Final for Scottish clubs remains via the Europa League or the Conference League.

After this season, participation in either competition would mean domestic failure for Celtic and would almost certainly see Rodgers replaced before the following seasons euro journey commenced such are the standards at the club.

Keown followed this by stating that Rodgers failed in his first (and as yet, only) stint at Celtic Park. How winning every possible trophy available to him can be construed as a failure is simply beyond comprehension.

You could draw parallels with Walter Smith and his first spell in charge of Rangers where Rangers were routinely embarrassed in Europe at a time where the gap between the big 5 leagues and the rest was nowhere near as vast as it is today. If anyone was to suggest that Walter Smith was a failure then they’d quite rightly be laughed at and dismissed as a bitter halfwit whose opinion could simply not be taken seriously. Smith won 7 titles in 8 years with 3 League Cups and 3 Scottish Cups.

For the bulk of that time he was up against a Celtic team on its knees because of the incompetence of the Kellys and Whites. Was it Rangers fault that Celtic were a shambles on and off the park? Of course not.

There was no invincible treble, no double treble and more from Smith as Rodgers managed to achieve. Was Walter Smith a failure, Gary? Of course he fucking wasn’t. Starting to see how foolish you look now?

Smith was understudy to Jim McLean at Dundee United when they made the European Cup semi final against Roma, he was assistant to Alex Ferguson at Mexico 86 and had won the European Youth Championship with Scotland under 18s in 1982. His Assistant, Archie Knox was at Aberdeen under Alex Ferguson when they won the Cup Winners Cup against Real Madrid. 2 proper football men. Did Rangers underachieve in Europe in the 90s? Probably, but Smith and Knox were far from failures. However, Keown’s logic would dictate otherwise.

The prospect of Brendan Rodgers returning to Celtic was first mooted on Monday afternoon as Ange Postecoglu move to Spurs neared completion. Poor Gary, he’s clearly been distraught at the thought of this for nearly a week to deliversuch a poisonous, hate filled article. He refers to ‘crash barriers’, dropped in cutely enough for him to plead plausible deniability if challenged on use of a term that is rhyming slang for a sectarian slur used by some of the more extreme elements amongst the Rangers support.

The rest of the article is so full of inaccuracies, half truths and bitterness its incredible that it wasn’t spiked by the editorial team – even for a publication noted for being ‘generally unreliable’.

He also bizarrely manages to shoehorn a reference to a proposed Celtic tour of Japan in 2008 as somehow having any relevance to Brendan Rodgers who wouldn’t turn up at Celtic Park for another 8 years. Again, Gary’s pain at yet another title triumph for Celtic still causes him hurt even though 15 years have passed. What Gary omits to mention is that the league that year was extended for the only time in its history for the sole benefit of one club. No such offer was available, nor expected 5 years earlier when Celtic also reached the UEFA Cup Final.

It was an article riddled with contrived negativity and one that betrayed the fear of its author and his almost acceptance that Celtic will continue to dominate the domestic landscape for the foreseeable future should Brendan Rodgers indeed seal his Celtic return in the coming days.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Left leg in, left leg out! Shake it all about with the Friday IN and OUT!
In conjunction with David Rosling productions.
It won’t be televised; for social media platforms only.

IN:

Debating the best chippie in Rosyth/Dunfermline area.

That Beautiful Sunday song with changed lyrics.

Big Ange

Bouncing about in the singing section at 53

Koyogo doing his thang

The marvellous Craig Gallagher

Blasting and singing the SAM song by Irish Brigade

Lisbon Lions anniversaries .

Deciding to wear Nike Omega Flash again.

The sinister emergence of hooligan darts crews.

Twatting anyone who says ‘bants’

Twatting anyone who says ‘nom nom’

Fi Gal an inspirational individual.

The marvellous John Gilmartin

The marvellous Jamie Devine

35 year reunions.

Pottering around the garden and twirling yer compost bin.

Pottering around the attic and finding the original copy of the bible.

Stevie Gerrard becoming a complete roaster.

Big Boots Big Toots.

Cold Water exposure – beak in reverse

Gene Gallagher wearing the Hoops.

Beard Gardens (you only get in with a beard)

Days out not nights out.

Doing a runner from Pizza Hut in Windsor and shouting ‘cheers now’

Arthur Shelby being a Tim

OUT:

Thinking yer 10 years younger than everyone!

John Lundstram — Ninja assassin

The cost of living

SEVVIE’s singing ‘we hate Kaffliks’ in the middle of Spain and seen as just a Cirry oan

Teeth suckers in the workplace, not my job attitude ae life!

Saying ‘thingio an that ‘

Normal looking lips.

Fuzzy hair styles in Old Swan.

Man buns, shit clobber.

People telling you ‘so I got them telt’ when they telt them f*ck all!

Hibby Gammon heads

The ‘so a turned around and said’ quote

SEVCO Herrenvolk Hurbis attitude.

Anything by Simply Red or Meatloaf.

Having a ball without a ball in sight.

That ‘build me up buttercup’ song on the radio every half hour.

Nazi hipsters.

Thinking you’re Tony Montana after a few stripes

Hiding from the ‘online’ delivery fella, as you have severe beer-fear.

Hangsxiety

That’s it for this week. Eay yer greens, switch everything off at night. Keep on Keeping on. Mirror, signal, manoeuvre and yer off.
Cheers now.

Come and see the team at HWS Towers, 96 Holywell Street next to Celtic Park, get yersels roond.

By J Whelan 17 March 2023

The water looked deep and inviting as we sat staring at the flowing waterfall with our bloodshot eyes. We had been there for over four hours now and how time had flown. The whole gang was there reminiscing all our exploits of the past. It had been a few years since we had all met up, on this occasion we had been at the funeral of a dear friend and decided to re-live our youth and return to a spot of our past where many a happy night was spent drinking and laughing around the fire, with the occasional fight thrown in for good measure. We had returned to our own special place “THE FALLS”.

We were a bunch of scallywags, who were brought up in and around the local council estates throughout our small mining village, where if you were lucky your parents worked for a living or unlucky they lived off the state, we never had much money, but we were happy and we made our own fun. A great bunch of guys, who like all others, had some fantastic stories to tell about one another and some even better ones about ourselves as we moved on through our journey of life.

Now Jimmy Lorenzo he is the real charmer of all the guys. He’s always seen himself as a bit of a Jack Palance type of guy, you know, a ladies man, but if truth be told he’d be better off pulling pints than birds.
We were in London on this occasion when he and I decided to go out on the town after work (with our bricklaying gear on). As we sat in bar after bar getting more and more inebriated by the minute we decided it was time to hit our local and give the ladies a little taste of our charm. (We could hardly understand each other by this time). We sat at the bar nonchalantly giving signals to each other deciding it was time for us to make our way to the Grand Piano which was situated right in the middle of a raised platform on the dance floor. We proceeded to hush the adoring crowds that had gathered to hear us and meandered off into a somewhat incoherent rant of Dean Martins “Little Ole Wine Drinker”, which amazingly had a great effect on Lorenzo’s pulling power in that public house for the rest of his career in London. After our gratuitous standing ovation like two cowboys we proceeded to return to our perch when all of a sudden the wheels fell off our wagon and crash bang, there was I head smashed off the bar foot rail with blood pouring from me with Jimmy Lorenzo lying on top of me still singing. After a little TLC from a couple of lady friends we continued drinking into the wee small hours of the morning….

Dusty (RIP) was an introverted type of character who never liked anyone getting too close to him, for reasons only he will ever know. He was a very generous guy who would have given his all to help you, even if he had nothing.
I could go on and on about this guy but this is one story that really sticks in my mind.
We were only young around seventeen at the time, he had always been the type of a Jack the lad character with a bit of this and a bit of that and always had cash. He had just procured a large cash windfall and decided he wanted a car. Here am I sitting in the house this day, when a horn blasts outside and gracing the pavement with its presence was BIG GUS (cars pet name). A 3.5 litre vintage Rover Coupe fully equipped with leather interior, cocktail cabinet the lot. My eyes lit up (it’s a council estate we lived in). So there we were cruising around our little town in this working mans Rolls Royce that was possibly better equipped than some of the houses our neighbours lived in, with our Buckfast, Eldorado and anything alcoholic that would fit into that cocktail cabinet. Time stood still that day for us when Dusty departed this mortal soil. But life goes on……….

Oh now we have Reggie the complete opposite of the latter who would talk the ears off Dumbo and return to sell him a hearing aid? An in your face very opinionated type of guy, but very lovable character.
This is a great story as it involved quite a few of the boys to set it up, we had been out and about doing our usual Saturday drinking starting in Maxwells on to Teddy’s and on this day we decided to venture across the river to one of the more affluent public houses Angels, and as it was a fine sunny day to have ourselves a little go at these things they called a beer garden. Our town had never seen the likes. After another long tiresome slog on the beer we decided it was time for a party, so off we set to Eddie’s bachelor pad with drinks a plenty. We were all rather inebriated by this time and as time went on some started drifting off to sleep. Reggie having being the first one to have a little nap was therefore to be the first to face the consequences of whatever dreaded deed was in store from the cunning “Prankster Police”, so lying there on the sofa with his flowing locks of black hair and six inch quiff he was a prime target for the scissor brigade. (I cannot name names here as it was collective prank and to this day still frustrates and angers Reggie when we mention it.) So out came the kitchen scissors and off came the quiff, which was then placed strategically upon his head. Upon awakening we heard the screams and I could not think to mention the language that was used and to our own hilarity he had to trim the rest of it to look presentable as we had another big day of entertainment ahead of us and nothing would have stopped him from attending that…….

I have not forgotten about Noodles who incidentally has too many nicknames to mention. A very smooth character that walks with that swagger that has a little grace yet cheekiness about it. A dapper chap as the gentry would say and very straight laced, well that was up until this fateful day.

Noodles had not long arrived in the Smoke and began working the hod with the rest of the guys but decided enough is enough and had to move on to pastures new. Now you are talking a guy who was living with a millionaire’s daughter in very salubrious area in Bromley in Kent and bringing cucumber sandwiches to work while we were pot licking with cheese. Anyway he lands a new job with large men’s clothes retailer as a manager. Everything is going great guns until one day in walks Dusty (remember him) with of couple of cockney geezers, they get talking and acquainted and one thing leads to another it turns out that these guys are a couple of grifters who are friends of the shady Dusty. The question is does Noodles accept their offer or go home to millionaire’s row looking like Tyson’s punch bag? Well to cut a very long story short in the end everything turned out great and I believe everyone was a winner as his shop sales went through the roof, he got manager of the month, the guys were kitted out for virtually nothing and for every dodgy credit card that was declined at the shop after it was maxed out Noodles got a £50 reward. Result…………

Fred and Bob well, this has to be done as a double act as one could out do another with character, charisma, cheek, petulance and last but not least madness. I think this defines these guys’ characters.
This unfortunately is another London story but sums these two guys up. After getting a knock on my door about 5pm one Friday evening only to be confronted by two friends who could pass for Laurel and Hardy anytime as they proceeded to tell me all about their journey down from Glasgow to Ashford and crashing the car because they were arguing, not because they were drunk and they couldn’t see. Well after “TELLING” me they were staying for a few days, we set out on yet another drunken escapade to our local hostelries, every barman got a little character assassination in the true Fred and Bob style (shut it ya dick). We ended up in our local Chinese where everything comes with peas (I was defined by my Chinese friend as the without the peas man). Anyway one of the local hard men was in there terrorising everyone just for the sake of it. He starts going around everyone asking what team they supported and everyone supported Arsenal or Spurs etc. until Bob pipes up and ask the hard man. What team do you support? The hard man replies “PALACE”, Bob replies, what “BUCKINGHAM”. The whole place fell about laughing and the little hard man left with his head hanging low, he had been out witted and out smarted by Fred and Bob in true Blantyre style…….

As a collective bunch of guys we all lived in the same rented house during a period in our life, well let’s just say there was a lot of UB40 and Bob Marley going on and life was very herbal and loads of free love.
We would all sit in the front lounge slightly worse for wear and as we had lost the remote control for the TV we would cut cards to see who was turning the TV over (it was actually quicker to turn the TV over as it was a longer walk to cut the cards. It was a principle thing). This particular evening the world cup was on so it was game after game and we were preparing dinner etc. Studs decided to go for a bath and Jimmy Lorenzo (remember him) decided to put the fryer on and the crispy pancakes under the grill for our dinner. We all sat down to watch Ireland play and chill out with a couple of herbal cigarettes. “What about the dinner?” Boney said. We smelled the aroma of burning plastic over the pungent herbal smell and all rushed to the kitchen to find it ablaze, we were running around in a stoned sort of frenzy, looking for buckets, pots anything to put water in, to put the blaze out. Studs who was lying in the bath in another planet was subject to attack from five crazy guys with basin, bowls anything that could hold water, taking water out of his bath to douse the flames in the kitchen only for him to say “What’s Happening Man”. When all the smoke and flames had dispersed the cooker had all but melted, the kitchen was black with smoke and was not habitable, so we decided to paint the hall to keep the landlord sweet, keep the kitchen door closed for the remainder of our tenancy (one month) and buy a microwave for the living room. We still never found that remote control and we thought it better just to moonlight the day before our lease was up and forfeit our deposit. We had some strange funny times……

Then there was the was the night when Nolly, The Colonel and Big Archie were out partaking in a bit of fishing with a rather large carry oot into the early hours of the morning. Packing up the fishing gear they decided they needed more drink and as the pubs were closed they decided it was Archie’s house for more drink. As the evening progressed the Colonel feared it was time to go home, so off he set, but as Nolly lived in Hellhouse he was carefully put up on the camp bed in Archie’s living room. Now as Nolly was renowned for, let me put it politely wetting the bed Big Archie warned him, “Remember Nolly nae pishing the bed.” Nolly’s reply “OK big Guy,” and all went to bed. Three O’clock prompt and Nolly (Marine Boy) wakes up to discover, yes, you’ve guessed it, he pished the bed. In a panic he decides to put the mattress next to the fire to dry and duly fall asleep on the couch.
Seven o’clock dawns and Archie’s wife and kids get up for work and school only to open the door to be engulfed by a pungent pishy smell and steam filled room from the drying mattress, with eyes nipping and gasping for air they had to flee to the back door for air. As Archie ventures down the stair Nolly wakes up from all the commotion as says “what’s all the fuss the mattress is dry,” as Archie flies at him Nolly grabs a can of cider and scurries out the front door like a rat deserting a sinking ship. Needless to say Nolly was never a guest in Archie’s abode ever again……

Ned is a very funny guy but doesn’t really know it, (if you know what I mean). Ned worked in the same place for twenty years and carried out the same toil day after day and led a funny but normal life for a single man. He and I had a great times together over a period of years, getting up to all sorts of weird and wonderful things. Ned was always late for work and had used every excuse in the book; alarm didn’t go off, granny died etc. He was in the middle of a disciplinary for his time keeping (again) when low and behold we had been out on the lash on the Sunday and I had crashed at his and he had overslept for work once again. He wakes up and having a nightmare of trying to put his clothes on, brush his teeth and wash his face he sprints out the door half an hour late. In his wisdom decides to take a short cut to work along the railway track to make up time, this being the middle of summer the grass at the railway was about six feet tall. He arrives at work and upon clocking in the gaffer gets a grip of him and said “OFFICE NOW”. No one ever found out what was said in that office but on returning to the local hostelry that evening as part of a single mans ritual, I asked him what was said, his reply to the patrons of that hostelry was, “when the gaffer asked me why I was late this time I said, “This time it’s the truth I got lost in the long grass and had walked right past the work”. The gaffer fell about laughing and told him he had heard it all now and let him off. (The whole pub was creased up with laughter) The mans a legend………

Barney, (RIP) Dusty, (RIP) Crock (RIP) and Hawky decided this day to dog school (play truant) like they did on many other occasions throughout their schooldays. So off they went on a grand adventure down to the local woods (The Cauther) to have themselves a full day of undisrupted fun. After playing around the boredom set in, so the mischief set in, they decided to wander up onto the street and low and behold outside the first public house they came across were a beer delivery truck. (Teenage delinquent’s dreams come true)They lay in wait for the driver and his boy to return to the pub for their customary drink from the landlord before they departed. As the truck was unattended it was easy prey for these young scallywags to help themselves. Up onto the truck Barney goes and throws off a barrel of beer and they rolled it off into the bushes, the unsuspecting driver jumps into his truck and drives away. “Result” says, Dusty, “but how are we going to move it in daylight”, “no problem” says Crock “we will return when it’s dark with my bogie.” Later that night the barrel is placed on the bogie (without the help of Hawky who they have decided to double cross) and they returned to Dusty’s house to go about the deed of emptying it.
In the kitchen of the house the barrel was placed on a table raised from the floor on a towel, the big screw top lid was off, the Alpine bottles were at the ready and the hose was in place to start siphoning the beer out. In the meantime Dusty’s mum and dad and two brothers were in the living room nonchalantly watching TV (very understanding parents). As the bottles filled up and the beer kept flowing, on numerous occasions throughout the evening Dusty’s dad was called into action to place his mouth over the hose so as not to spill any beer on the floor. The evening ended with all a little merry and Dusty’s dad got a few bottles of beer for his trouble not to mention about ten pints of overspill from the hose. Hawky never got to find out what happened to that barrel of beer until years later.

As the embers of the fire flicker and dawn approaches we are all heavy eyed as the talking and reminiscing has been concluded. We can only reflect and say, should we have chosen another path to go down, what would we have changed, would it have been for better or worse, we could be here along time …………….

To be continued with many more characters………..

By HWS 17th March 2023

Sometimes nostalgia and wistful reflection take you back to places that carry heritage. I believe that the loss of personal bohemia causes nostalgia. Although it can be mentally draining it’s what attracts the next generations.

“The Dean” is what it was – what it is and will forever be. The names the same.

You can sense the history in the ground and even more so in the club room. Families of generations have had functions here from the ‘60s rock n roll through to ‘70s Tony Christie and later dance music DJs including some renowned names such as Andy Weatherall, Danny Rampling and Slam. It seems like everything starts and finishes here. The stand here shown above is not just “the stand” it is a major player in the town of Galashiels. I have had family and neighbourhood links at the club since I was born, from Les Cossar right through to Kenny Nicol and onwards. I can still hear Wullie Noble saying: “hold it kid … coo on the line” and ” smashing fellie one of the all-time greats”. Those memories are vivid.

The local football club Gala Fairydean merged with Gala Rovers back in 2013. I had affection for both. However, they were always connected and in fact, the Gala Fairydean Rovers was first formed in 1894. In 1907 the club was separated into two teams, known as Gala Fairydean and Gala Rovers. It had been suggested that the Rovers were the Fairydean’s feeder team or reserve team in days gone by. Nevertheless, they are back as one.

The stand is a topic which in recent times has had many discussions. Personally, I am more than happy to know it has been maintained and saved. However, it had fallen into disrepair recently and had to shut down on safety grounds in 2018. Major repairs were approved on this football stand described as an “outstanding” example of the work of modernist architect Peter Womers designed the structure here at Gala Fairydean Rovers’ Netherdale ground in the 1960s. Scottish Borders Council granted planning permission for a £1.45m overhaul and upgrade. This construction has always felt quite unique to me, I have always viewed it as something well ahead of its time, very much a construct you would see in a continental football ground.

The Club is being run extremely well and I was welcomed along by Debi, Ryan and Coco they are family as is Paul Bertram who has been around the club all his life from being a young ball boy and is now considered a pillar of the club. Adam McGlory is still here and has also been involved in the club for decades. Then there’s Bruce Noble, the Wilsons, Tam Cass and not mention Jim Gray, I managed to get a chat with him in the VIP room at half-time.

That’s the beauty of this heritage it is very much community and family-based. As the saying goes “the more things change, the more they stay the same” but that’s how I like this.

Among all of this, the club has progressed very well. There has been a state-of-the-art pitch recently laid and new floodlights the facilities are one of the best in the lowland league – if not thee best. I must mention the pies! Much like Walters in the ’70s, they are magic.

The most humorous part of the afternoon was Ryzo phoning Debi to switch the floodlights on and then naming it “the big light”

As we always used to say “get Yersel doon!” and of course “Get involved”

Article dedicated to Ian Frizzel

LOST DAYS and BOOZY NIGHTS

Last night I partied, till I was in a state
Drank so much, couldn’t walk straight
Made it home, God knows what way?
Lived for it then, dying today

Head is banging, stomach is sore,
Spent all morning on the bathroom floor
Thoughts of yesterday fading away
I try to picture, but no display

Flashbacks fragmented, I don’t recall
I know one thing, I had a ball
So party up and drink it down
Only stop when you hit the ground

Pockets are empty, cash is all spent
Had a few quid. Where has it went?
Overdo it, and you’ll be made to pay
Demons within that’ll last all day

Trying to sleep, my heads in a spin
Thought in my mind, the Devil will win
I say this now as I’ve said it before
No more booze for me anymore………….

J.J. Whelan

KEEP THE FAITH

Some people will never give up
Others will always give in
We keep up the struggle
So the Devil won’t win

There’s always hurt or pain
Sometimes sorrow or shame
But please remember
Two days are never the same

Hold on to your hopes
And all of your dreams
Life’s never as bad
As it all may seem

Take some time to reflect
To ask yourself why?
And remember someone’s
Always worse off than you or I

A new day will dawn
But what will it bring
Life, health and happiness
The recipe of all good things

J.J. Whelan

DARKNESS DELIGHT

Mind so full of thoughts
Car crash in my head
Toss and turn, try to sleep
Laying in my bed

Torturing my mind
Of heaven or hell
Pleasure or torment
Snow that’s never fell

Morning beams through
Filled with clouds of doom
These are all too transient
As we watch flowers bloom

A new day dawns
The dove takes flight
All too happy now
Masquerading with delight

Full moon enlightens sky
Day becomes night
Thoughts of slumber
My fear, darkness delight

J.J. Whelan

TRIAL AND ERROR

I got so drunk the other night
I travelled back in time
Reliving my early youth
Drinking tonic wine
Carefree days spent with my friends
In some wondrous places
Acid trips and drunken nights
With many familiar faces

I got so drunk the other night
I travelled forth in time
Grand kids and walking sticks
Now I’m past my prime
Days are spent in nursing homes
With many sorry faces
Drugs galore and restless nights
With countless midnight chases

I awake and now am sober
So glad its present day
No regrets now of my past
I enjoyed it in every-way
Time is spent now with my kids
To coach them along the way
Teach them, life’s not a trial
For to enjoy it every day.

J.J. Whelan

By Red Casual 21st-Jan-2023

Holywell Street recently hooked up with Lanarkshire’s Iain McMillan. He is a long-term friend of mine and has recently written his first publication. Iain has always been an interesting character in all things football to a subculture which is why he is perfect for this blog section. I’ve always felt his creative streak was overdue. He has had a colourful past from the terrace scene with Motherwell, and his obsession with designer threads and music he has also travelled through some dark times. We could converse all day and usually do, but it is also good to get his memoirs on paper. We met up in McChuills – Glasgow’s Legendary Music Bar on High Street the only place to be.

Good to see you mate, I want to start with the book. I’m glad to see as much as your passion for reading you have now started writing. How and when did the idea come about?

I have written bits and pieces for a few years, mainly just for myself. I always found the process of writing enjoyable and therapeutic. I then wrote some articles in some Motherwell fanzines and contributed to Paninaro magazine. Always pieces about fashion or terrace culture, something I have always been into. When we went into the initial lockdown boredom got the better of me and I began battering away at the keyboard again with no real plan. I just thought I’d have a go at a short story. A few months later I had half the book written, and it flowed naturally. I got a real buzz out of writing it and enjoyed the whole creative thing which I never explored in myself in any great depth before. I found something in myself I didn’t know was there and just went with it not really knowing if it would ever be seen by another soul. When I finished it, I felt I would take the plunge and put it out there.

I like the title of the book I imagine there is a connection to a famous track or anything else linked there?

The title was just a working title initially. Like some of the names in the book I just used the first ones that came to mind when writing thinking I may change them at the end. I am obviously aware of the song and love The Smiths but there is no connection to the Manchester band. When I finished writing the book the title seemed to sit well, alcohol was well and truly a thorn in the main character’s side. So, I kept it, sometimes it’s good to go with your gut instinct and not edit your thoughts too much.

I enjoyed the book as more of a take on the character and his compulsive personality and going through the youth movements of the time rather than an average hooligan book, would you agree?

Totally. I made a conscious effort not to make the book a “hoolie book”. Although the casual thing was a part of the story, there was so much more to the casual scene than just fighting at the football. Clothes were an obsession for most and not just those of us with a compulsive nature. I wanted to show the lengths we went to obtain items of clothing in an era before credit cards or having a great deal of money. It was difficult being head-to-toe in Armani when you were earning £29.50 on a Youth Training Scheme but somehow, we would make it happen by any means. The clothes meant that much to us. I always felt that to those outside the casual scene, it can be misunderstood in a way and just seen as Neanderthals drinking and fighting at the football, but it simply wasn’t like that. There was the comradery and being part of something special. Like the mods of our generation.

The character in the book Frankie is interesting I’m sure a few will relate to him. Also perhaps a sign of the times living in a Northern town during the eighties where status was more important than anything else.

I think growing up in the eighties was a very tribal time. When I started secondary school, everyone was a mod, punk, or skinhead. Teenagers gravitated towards the tribe they identified most with. I think growing up we all want to feel part of something. The casual thing provided that for many young men looking for a sense of belonging and the fact it included wearing expensive clothes certainly added to your self-esteem. Of course, you only become aware of this in Hinde sight but some of those years shape who you are forever.

That’s a decent point about tribal groups, if you recall the late ’70s or early ’80s you had all those countercultures. Punk, Skinhead, Mod, Heavy Metal and you wouldn’t admit to liking each other’s music.

Yeah, you could get a doing for wearing a Specials patch or admitting to liking Spandau Ballet [laughs] it was the same with the clothes you only stuck with your tribe. I think the new generations are very different.

Frankie comes across more like a tough street romantic who is a deep thinker but just gets caught up in what he sees as status, would you agree?

I wanted the character Frankie to have some depth and be honest about his struggles and insecurities. Not just make him a one-dimensional hardman character. I don’t think many of us are like that in all honesty. I think you can be masculine and sensitive at the same time. I wanted to show a side of Frankie that people could identify with. I think the character Frankie was a bit lost and the status he finds within the casuals gives him something he is missing. It makes him feel part of a family unit he lacked at home. 

Motherwell seems to have a decent Ultras Scene over there, very impressed with their mental health awareness projects as well. Do you still attend matches?

I go to every home game and a few away every season. I am pushing fifty now and I still feel being part of something at Motherwell is as important to me as it always was. It has just evolved a bit over the years. The ultras are the generation below me and the Well Bois have done a great job to bring atmosphere to Fir Park and they make a big effort with displays week in and week out. Block E are the up-and-coming ultras. They are both very community minded and are always helping out with foodbank collections and making a contribution to the town. I think it’s the way football clubs should be, about the whole community not just supporting the team.

It’s that time again for your Top three Adidas shoes?

Trimm Trab
Zx 600
New York

In your opinion did the Casuals kill Stone Island or did Stone Island kill the Casuals?

Personally, I still like Stone Island but it’s not what you wear it’s how you were it as the quote says. However, there is a uniform that goes with it for example Adidas trainers and perhaps Aqua scarf. I have many friends who just won’t wear it. I still like Barbour and CP Company also Nigel Cabourn. These days I like to mix it up with a retro look. I’m not as closed-minded these days.

And can you give us your all-time favourite five albums?

Paul Weller – Wild Wood
John Martyn – Solid Air
The Beatles – Rubber Soul
Ocean Colour Scene – Mosley Sholes
Roddy Frame – Surf

Let’s talk about recovery. There seem to be a few people from our era that are working on themselves in a positive way. I noticed in the book that the character realised you don’t have to drink alcohol every day to be an alcoholic?

The word alcoholic has been demonised somewhere along the way. We grow up in a country steeped in booze thinking that alcoholics are strictly the guys sleeping on park benches. Guys who drink white lightning and beg for money. These unfortunates are in the minority of people with drinking problems. The stereotype is a big barrier for people who are trying to address the drinking issue. It feeds that attitude “But I’m not like that” alive. The truth is there are many out there who when they start drinking, struggle to stop. They accept the unacceptable parts of our drinking culture as we are surrounded by it. Alcoholism is normalised in our culture. Some alcoholics may drink daily but there are lots of us who never have. The after-effects of the weekend binge can be just as crippling. 

Back to the book. The character Frankie, can you relate to him through your past?

Although the book is fiction, the story is made up of loads of snippets of my life with a few bits made up to fit the story. The beauty of making it a fictional character is that you can play about with it a bit more. It was my attempt at documenting being young in the eighties and nineties, touching on the casual thing and the evolution into rave culture. I wanted to show the after-effects of a life lived to excess and the struggles with mental health thereafter not just a celebration of youth. I don’t think it’s a doom and gloom story I hope it’s more about redemption.  

The book for me is also an education on where trauma can lead to addiction and compulsive disorder. I think this needs to be highlighted more with a mental health epidemic upon us would you agree?

Yeh totally. There is so much more information and research out there these days about trauma’s effects on the brain and how this would lead to the compulsion for alcohol or drugs to increase dopamine or find a state of relaxation that is alien to someone who has suffered trauma. I personally found this information mind-blowing and it made the path to recovery far clearer knowing what you had to address to regain a balanced state of mind. I think the current cocaine epidemic is a great concern as it’s having a massive impact on people’s mental health. Recovery and mental health needs to be out of the shadows and show people there is help and hope.

I also thought it was very interesting when Frankie gets sober he finds it hard to find an outlet to channel into. It shows how it can take a lot of stages to unwind learned habits.

I think part of the problem is when you get sober you can feel a little lost until you find your feet a bit. If your whole social life has revolved around pubs and clubs you need to discover new things to fill your time and stimulate you. I can take time to feel comfortable in new situations without anaesthetic to help you along but as time passes you will experience a far richer life. The addictive part of your nature will also manifest itself in other areas, for me it was buying training shoes and records. Some run marathons, get engrossed in work or take some activity to extreme levels. In my experience, this settles a bit in time. It is better to channel this side of you into something positive though or you may end up sober but bankrupt at the bookies!  

From your own point of view, how did you find starting to write and get creative?

I have written small bits here and there for years but just for my own amusement. The spare time the lockdown provided enabled me to indulge in it a bit more with no real plan. I think I wrote more honestly as I never thought another soul would ever read it. The more I wrote the more I enjoyed it and I actually looked forward to getting to the keyboard. It never felt like a chore, I think that helped a lot to keep the writing flowing

And do you have any future plans for working on new material?

My plan is to learn from my mistakes and write another book this year. I want to see if I can improve on my first effort. I have a few ideas right now but I have not yet finalised all the details, but I will hopefully get another out before the year ends. I recently did a podcast in relation to the book and recovery and I’d love to do a few more if possible.

Thanks for meeting us, mate. Cheers to Davie and Frazer for their input also.

The Boy with the Thorn in his Side can be purchased here at amazon …

IN:

Walking into work and askin ‘s,appenin?’

Sober weekends

Cold water exposure

Walking into work and saying ‘here he is tho!’

Timberland & Burlington on a permanent basis.

Boiled eggs; spinach; avocado!

Being Celtic.

Yer manager saying ‘tho’

Pickled ingin not onion!

Collecting Mac Jackets.

Happy Monday’s – Hallelujah remix full blast!

Boxing yer Black Mutt away!

Staring at the Tropical Fish in Dobbies.

Simple Minds new Album.

Telling people ‘they ain’t seen nothing yet!’

Asking the Barman for a drink that all the young yins drink these days!

People who pil-fridge from M&S Food shop.

Justifying necking a whole box of Go Ahead Bars!

Aldo’s Hot Dogs.

Any record by Harry Lauder!

A flag on behalf of good lads!

Asking ‘s’appenin?’ on a Conference Call.

Saying ‘Cheers now’ after a Conference Call.

Liam Gallagher getting the Rebs on!

Testing all the aftershaves in Debenhams.

Professor Yaffle from Bagpuss

Smoking out racists on social media.

Diet Irn Bru.

The Ange on top of the world song.

Zipping up yer Boots!

Big Boots Big Toots!

Coxy on Radio Two

Bowie – Starman full blast on iTunes.

OUT:

Did you call ma pint a poof’ sloshed types in the boozer.

Fuckin crinkled beetroot!

Cost of living

The saying ‘true dat’

Folk with a ‘we arra’ attitude ae life.

Miserable Scottish Winters

Barry Ferguson

Three cold callers in the space of twenty mins.

Nom Nom, yummy scrummy types!

Tory voters complaining about cuts!

The new Leeds United badge.

Media spin, fantasy football transfer figures!

Keyboard warrior football lads.

Rugger buggers, squaddies, SEVVIE’s

Getting texts telling you you’ve won a Diet Coke if you … sign up to …’

Getting a leaflet through the door every two days for Dominos Pizza!

Anxiety stigma ‘why don’t you just set yourself a 30 minutes worry period a day’

Black Mutt provoking horizontal sleet/snow/Covid

The Voice… f*ckin cringefest!

Islamophobia.

People slurping yogurt on the train, scooping with the silver lid.

Sevconian Moon Howlers.

Fash

5p a bag!

£75 average for Adidas OG’s.

Getting asked if you want a bag!

That’s awe the thangs for this week. Be kind to each other, hug yer brers. Have a beer or Crack a fascist on the ear!

Divint take it serious. Cheers Now. Eat yer porridge, eat yer greens. Look for peace and not excitement. Get into a Boxing Club. Block toxic folk.

Come and visit at Holywell Street and meet the team, bring awe yer mates.

*HWS Towers is situated at 95 Holywell Street, next to Celtic Park get yersel roond. Paul Kealy cooks Jerk Chicken at the office to perfection.

By David R, 18 August 2022

I recently heard someone share at a meeting, “if your in recovery and yer unhappy, yer not doin it right”

It got me thinkin of things I used to seek, chase and covet, all in the pursuit of happiness.

Clothes, status, girls, money, the holidays abroad, designer drugs, big nights out and so on.

Sure, they brought some instant gratification, some temporary feel good factor, but it quickly faded and again I’d be back out chasing.

Constantly chasing happiness but could just never seem to quite keep it in my grasp.

What I know now is I thought external things would give me internal happiness.

I used to look at folk who didn’t wear the clobber, didn’t have that half Q of Diego in the back pocket (or doon the boxers) or be out partying every weekend and think, “straight pegs man. Miserable bastards” I wondered how they could possibly be happy being so mundane.

When I was in my 20s, right through to late 30s I thought life would be one big party, forever. A life of taking recreational drugs, chasing girls, designer clothes and false status.

I knew the party was over just before I hit 40. The drugs stopped doing for me what they had done for many years. I had isolated myself but kept this fantasy life, a film reel playing in my head.

When I finally conceded I was fvcked I thought it would be a life of misery. A life of that straight peg mundane, nothing to look forward to that I’d so often scoffed at.

I had this idea that my life would be going to recovery meetings with all these miserable, unhappy bastards.

“I’m David, I’m an addict” in my most miserable voice was all I could hear. Grey skies, smelly rooms for meetings, sad faces was all I could envisage.

That there was self pity.

I started to lift my head at meetings. People smiled, laughed, looked fresh.

Nowadays they mundane things like walking your dog, ironing, cuddling up on the couch watchin telly, doing the dishes.

Thats the stuff that makes me happy. That’s what keeps me humble and grateful.

Of course, life isn’t all strawberries and orgasms, it’s not a Disney film but I’ve got awareness that when life turns up, I can deal with it and in turn, that brings happiness, peace and gratitude.

Recovery is growing up. Its being present, its dealing with life on life’s terms. It’s about getting out the fvckin way and realising you’re not the centre of the universe.

I’m David, and I’m a grateful addict!

By Davie R, 25 July 2022

I watched the UFC fight on Saturday night and whilst Paddy “The Baddy” Pimblett may divide opinion with his showboat and cocksureness, his speech at the end of the fight was raw, emotional and very, very important.
He told us how a friend of his had taken his own life a few days prior and how we need to ditch the stigma around mental health and suicidal thoughts, especially amongst men.

And he’s right. It is getting better but like a lot of things like this, they become all to easy to say with little substance. We need to continue to get the message out.

3 years ago around this time, (I don’t recall the exact date, but it was mid July), I had my last, and hopefully final encounter with suicide. In the early hours of the morning I walked out the house I was staying in at the time and hooked my hood onto the garage door and kicked my legs out.

Truth is, I shat it when I felt it tighten round my neck and I was able to get my feet back under me.

I didnt talk to anyone prior to this. My mental health got worse. Suicidal ideation was constantly on my mind. In the months that followed I’d visit my GP numerous times. I’d be given different tablets and have input from psychology.

I felt alone. Felt no one would really understand. I wont go into great detail but there were other factors in makin me feel alone and isolated.

I felt when I did open up no one listened. I knew they heard but they didn’t listen cos all they wanted to do was give me advice, pay lip service or fix me.

Its not what I wanted. Or needed.

See, here’s the thing, it’s our human instinct to want to help people, but sometimes, the best help is trying not to help, trying not to play the fixer, the sorter. The best help we can be is just to listen, to be there.

I’m not a doctor, a counsellor or any sort of professional in mental health. This is just personal experience.

See when someone tells you they’re feeling suicidal, or they’re feelin low, here’s a few do’s and don’ts;

Don’t tell them to man up
Don’t tell them other folk are worse off
Don’t tell them it’s a drink or a good night out they need
Don’t tell them you know just the thing to make them feel better
Don’t joke that it’s their “time of the month”
Don’t tell them it’ll all be better when they get a job, girlfriend, boyfriend, car, lottery win etc

Do tell them yer there for them
Do tell them you’ll just listen whilst they talk.
Do offer to go to the GP with them
Do tell them you might not understand or identify what they’re goin through or feeling but you’ll listen.
Do validate their feelings.

We also need to keep looking out for each other. We need to get comfortable about broaching difficult subjects.

“Are you thinking of killing yourself?”
Say that out loud.

Its uncomfortable isn’t it. It gives you a wee knot in your stomach and you’re probably thinking, “fvck that, im not asking anyone that. It sounds cheeky, too forward”

Guess what, tough, cos see that question, that could save a life.

So, get comfortable with the uncomfortable. When you ask that question the worst thing that’d going to happen is the person looking at you and telling you “NO”.

I’d rather have that look from a pal that thinks I’m daft than sit and wonder if the question could’ve saved them when I’m mourning them.

Get talking. Talk to your partners, your kids, your pals, even sometimes that stranger thats sitting looking like the weight of the world is on their back.

A kind word can save a life.

We have some great organisations out there, large and small and we have some wonderful people doing there bit.

Folk like Paul at Max Kolbe, the walk n talk group run by Andy Pingu, Dave with Kickin On are just a few.

Let’s get talking, let’s get saving lives.

By David R. 15 July 2022

I had always heard of Chico. Had always heard good things about Chico. Always the focus on nights out. Everyone’s pal, always made the day or night out better.

Who wouldn’t want introduced to Chico?

Just over 20 years ago I got properly introduced. Right away I knew I liked Chico and sensed we’d be good pals.

Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t with Chico all the time. Started off now and then but everytime I was with Chico, it was great. Really f*ckin good to be honest.

Before I knew it, me and Chico spent Friday and Saturday nights together. Man, sometimes Chico would join me on a Friday and that would be us til Sunday.

Things were goin that well that everytime I went to do something fun, Chico would always be there. I invited him to everythin. Days oot at the fitba, nights oot wi pals, family parties, pals parties.

I’d always start on a Monday or Tuesday makin sure Chico would be about at the weekend. It got to the point I felt I couldn’t enjoy myself if I thought Chico wouldn’t be there.

Everyone seemed to love Chico. Folk would always ask if Chico was there. Everytime I went into a toilet in the boozer folk would ask if Chico was there. I’d love that. Lap it up that people asked me about Chico.

Then I started to resent it. Fuckin find yer own Chico, I started to think.

Shortly I’d start having nights wi Chico myself. Maybe a wee Monday night, or a Thursday. Just me and Chico.

Then the relationship wi me and Chico started to get a bit toxic. The nights spent wi just the two of us became more. Chico would convince me I was better off just the two of us. They nights became more frequent.

Chico then started takin all my money. I spent it all on Chico. I’d get into debt for Chico.

I tried loads of things to distance myself from Chico. Tried to cut down the amount of times I spent with Chico each week. Nae good. See, Chici is cunnin and baffling. No matter what I tried, Chico was with me every night. Every f*cking night.

In the end, I hated Chico but just couldn’t get away. I’d cry when I was with Chico.

Eventually I managed to end things wi Chico.

Don’t get me wrong, Chico still tries, every day, to get my attention. As I said, Chico is cunning and baffling. Chico tries to trick me into thinking things will be like they were in the beginning. Chico tries to get me to forget how things ended with us. And if I let his cunning and baffling approach sit too long in my head I am in real danger of believing that lie.

I cant afford that so whilst I acknowledge the good times Chico. I can’t forget that bad times. The dark times, the hopelessness of my life when you’re involved.

My mate Chico.

My mate cocaine