The Clumpany encountered some truly surreal things when it was out and about today.
While waiting for the bus I noticed a decaying lump of dog excrement on the pavement.
You might think there was nothing unusual in that. And you’d be correct. But what was truly extraordinary was that the heap of canine foulness was shouting at passers by.
“There was no sporting advantage” it bellowed. “Rangers would have bought those players anyway. EBTs weren’t illegal!”
It repeated the cry over and over again.
Somewhat bemused, I got the bus and thought no more about it.
Until I got off the bus, whereupon a runny pigeon dump splattered on my ethereal shoulder from a great height. I was just about to recoil in horror when I was taken aback at the sound of the droppings talking to me!
“There is no appetite to reopen Lord Nimmo-Smith’s Commission. It is time to heal and move on.”
I availed myself of the tissues and wet-wipes offered by sympathetic passers-by, and removed the mess from my intangible person.
I walked a few yards and saw a mounted policeman. His horse deposited a huge pile of manure by my feet and trotted away. I held my ethereal nose to avoid the stench, but was again shocked when the steaming equine crap mountain started talking to me.
“It’s all in the past!” it said. “Top lawyers have been asked and there is no mechanism to take action against Rangers. The matter is closed”.
Increasingly perturbed by events, I hastened to the shops to make my purchases and then head back to the relative sanity of Clumpany Towers. However, before boarding the bus home I popped to the public toilets and had the misfortune to discover that my predecessor had forgotten to flush.
And as if it wasn’t bad enough to find a world class jobbie staring up at me, the remarkable specimen started shouting at me!
“Those titles were won on the pitch! It would be theft to take them off Rangers. You are just bitter and jealous! Concentrate on your own team!”
Fearing that I might be going completely crazy, I decided not to wait for the bus but instead got a taxi back to Clumpany Towers. Once there, I called my pal Alan. I haven’t seen him in ages and was due to catch up, but the day’s events made it imperative that I spoke to him immediately. Alan is a sensible bloke and can always be relied upon to offer a sense of perspective.
As soon as he heard my voice, Alan commented that I sounded a bit shaken, and asked me what the matter was. So I gave him a blow-by-blow account of all the talking turds and their detailed comments on Rangers.
To be honest, I was expecting Alan to show some sympathy, but instead he just chuckled at me, before explaining:
“FFS Clumpany! Why so concerned? You’ve just encountered a load of shit arguments against title stripping.
Open the newspapers and you will have exactly the same experience. Day after day.”