Alan’s Adventures, Gerrard, Satire, Sevco

Jilted At The Altar

Good Evening.

The warmer weather is often a sign that the wedding season is upon us. And it certainly is at Sevco! Following the union of Steven Gerrard and the Fantasy Known As Rangers Football Club on Friday, today saw another emotion-packed wedding due to take place.

Here is a report supplied by my pal Alan who was lurking at the back. Fortunately, no one saw him…


Jilted At The Altar

Today, Sevconia’s favourite sprite Miss Imp Pecunious was due to be bound in financial matrimony to legendary military hero Major Investment, with the ceremony once more presided over by the Reverend Dave King.

A small but select gathering of Scotland’s finest journalists gathered for the service to wish the Bride and Groom well, weep sweet tears of joy, and to prepare themselves to spread the wonderful tidings to the rest of humanity for the next few thousand years.

The honoured guests arrived in good time, murmuring with excitement and wondering quite how impressive Major Investment would be when he arrived. There was also considerable concern about Imp Pecunious who had been waiting to be swept off her feet since at least March 2015.

The Reverend Dave King also took his place well before the start of the ceremony and exchanged a word or two with the guests. Well, actually it was five words: “remember what Jim tells you”.

So the scene was set. All it needed was for the Groom and his traditionally-late Bride to arrive.

Everyone waited.

And waited.

And then waited a little bit more.

Watches were looked at, and shoes were stared at by an increasingly-uncomfortable congregation.

Eventually the door opened.

But it was not Major Investment.

No, it was Miss Imp Pecunious, wearing a simple and very inexpensive gown that some claim was previously the subject of a rejected £11m bid from China on eBay.

The guests gasped.

Imp Pecunious walked to the front and asked the Reverend Dave King where her one true love Major Investment was.

The Reverend Dave King remarked that no one had told him that this was a wedding, and that he had no expectation of seeing Major Investment today. Or indeed for the foreseeable future.

Imp Pecunious broke down in tears and the guests shuffled uncomfortably in their seats, until suddenly the Reverend Dave King spoke:

“Good morning. Just to let you know that there will be a cake sale in a few weeks’ time. We expect to raise £6m.

“We haven’t got the ingredients, the oven is on the blink, and we have no idea whether anyone will actually want to buy cake, but a bright future for the club lies ahead.

“I’m also hoping that some debt could be converted to cake. A hypothetical Victoria sponge has got to be worth at least £2m a slice, hasn’t it?”

Before departing to give their readers unexpected and disappointing news, the guests were treated to light refreshments of stale fudge.



NB Remember folks, it’s just a bit of satirical fun…

Alan’s Adventures, Gerrard, Sevco

A Conversation About Steven Gerrard

Good Evening.

The Clumpany just had a phone call from my good pal Alan. It was good to hear from him as I haven’t seen him in ages.


He’d been out and about and had seen Keith Jackson. Apparently the forty-five and seven-eighths-times Journalist of the Year was buying a block of marble! I asked Alan if he knew why Keith was buying marble, and he said he’d heard him explaining that he was going to carve a statue of St Paul Murray Of The Blessed 121 Words to put outside Ibrox. Alan suggested that I should offer Keith a loan of my chisel to help out. I pointed out that if it was tools Keith was after, surely he only needed to look around the office.

But these exciting tidings were not the reason that Alan had called me. He wanted to tell me about a conversation he had overheard between two blokes in a pub. One was a Celtic fan, and the other was a Sevco fan who was VERY full of himself about the appointment of Steven Gerrard as Sevco manager. So much so that he claimed to be wearing a half-and-half Sevco-Liverpool shirt!

Alan said that it was actually a Sevco shirt but the fan had been reassured by ‘Mr King’ that the shirt contained the colours of both clubs* and was well worth paying £100 for.

Alan laughed.

I reflected on my good fortune to be ethereal and not have actual pants to piss.

Anyway… apparently the pub conversation between the two men went something like this:

Sevco fan: “55 is coming Timmy!”

Celtic fan: “No it’s not. And neither is number 1.”

Sevco fan: “Rangers* are coming.”

Celtic fan: “No they aren’t.”

Sevco fan: “I can smell your fear.”

Celtic fan: “No, that’s the pub toilets and the bile you are excreting”

Sevco fan: “The eyes of the world are on Ibrox and you are raging Timmy:”

Celtic fan: Rust is on Ibrox. And I am soon off to the Cup final to see if Celtic can win a double-Treble.”

Sevco fan: “You can’t cope with your run of tainted titles coming to an end. You are shitting yourself.”

Celtic fan: “Again, that’s the toilets you can smell. And the rotting corpse of Rangers may be generating some unpleasant liquids, but none of them have splashed upon or otherwise tainted Celtic’s titles. All of which have been built upon nearly 25 years of sustainable planning.”

Sevco fan: “We are the only show in town.”

Celtic fan: “If you mean ‘freak show’, I will give you that.”

Sevco fan: “You are so jealous of the world’s most successful club* that you are practically crying Timmy.”

Celtic fan: “I fail to see what Al Ahly or even Real Madrid have to do with this.”

Sevco fan: “Brenda is going to be humiliated by Steven Gerrard.”

Celtic fan: “No he isn’t. Gerrard may have some good results – that is the nature of football, especially if played on a level playing field, which I don’t expect you to understand. However, he is an untested manager. It’s a gamble by the latest Ibrox club. Everyone knows that. Even you must recognise it.”

Sevco fan: “Bheast!”

Celtic fan: “Here we go…”

Sevco fan: “Hopefully for you Rangers* will get back where we belong before we decide to take you down by proving that you won your tainted titles with State Aid.”

Celtic fan: “But the State Aid allegations were such a crock of shit that the Union for Crocks of Shit have issued a statement saying that they want to have nothing to do with them”.

Sevco fan: “Yours is a paedo club”.

At that point the landlord apparently intervened and told the Sevco fan that he had had too much Kool-Aid for one day and it was time to go home…



NB Remember folks, it’s just a bit of fun…

Gerrard, Media, Satire, Sevco

Here Comes The Bride!

Good Afternoon.

The Clumpany has been handed a transcript of yesterday’s Gerrard Mania-Fest at Ibrox.

I thought you might like to see it.

The Reverend Dave King was presiding.

It is understood that the Groom wore a smart suit and the Bride left everything to the imagination, given the stories of her death in 2012.


The Reverend Dave King: “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Steven George Gerrard and Rangers* Football Club* in holy management. This is a precarious state in which to be, and is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly – save on the basis of promises made by its Glorious South Africa-based Chairman.

“Into this estate, these two legends – one human, and the other a figment of the imagination of 500 million People – come now to be joined.

“If anyone can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together (excluding the provisions of insolvency legislation or the requirements of the Takeover Code) let them speak now or forever hold their peace. At least until such time as the Gers* have a couple of bad results, when all bets and dignified conduct will be off.”


The Reverend Dave King:Who gives this club* to be managed by this man?

The Reverend Dave King: “Ha ha. Silly me. Of course, it is me doing the giving away!”


The Reverend Dave King: (addressing the groom who repeats the marriage vows):

Steven Gerrard: “I Steven George Gerrard take you Rangers* Football Club* be my lawfully-managed club (this is all OK isn’t it? There aren’t any regulatory authorities poised to bring it all crashing down are there?). Before these drooling press pack witnesses, I vow to train you and to pick up three points every week for as long as I remain unresigned. From this day forward. OK I actually mean from 1 June. But you get the idea.”

The Reverend Dave King:(addressing the bride):

Rangers* Football Club: [*silence*]

The Reverend Dave King:“Ah yes, of course. You may be 146 years old but you have no corporeal form or legal personality. Let’s just say ‘blah blah blah, and welcome to Rangers* Stevie!’ Let’s have a BIG hand (no, not yours Mr Green) for the happy couple and – most importantly – my genius in bringing Stevie here”.

Following the applause, the Congregation of The People performed the traditional Ibrox hymn ‘The Billy Boys’.

The happy couple then retired to enjoy a wedding breakfast of old-style succulent lamb, washed down with a bucket of pish.

The honeymoon is expected to last until August.


I am sure we all wish the newlyweds well.



NB Remember folks, it’s just a bit of lame-arsed satirical fun.

Media, Satire, Sevco

Paul Murray Deserved Better

Good Evening.

Not appearing in any Scottish newspaper any time soon…


St Paul Of Murray: The Blue Room Martyr

Former Rangers and Rangers* Director Paul Murray was given a truly shameful send-off by the club* he had served with such blazer-wearing distinction.

By A. Laughable-Perspective

Paul Murray was disgustingly shat on from a great height by a club* that disgracefully failed to acknowledge the alleged pal of a mainstream journalist. An alleged pal who has been at the heart of many back-page squirrels over recent years.

A man of St Paul’s stature deserves fulsome praise when tendering his resignation.

What he does NOT deserve is a meagre 121-word announcement.

It wouldn’t be so bad if it had been 150 words, or 130, or even 122! But how in the name of f*ck can anyone post a statement saying farewell to a legend of Rangers*-related media contacts with a 121 word statement?


And let’s be honest, we are being generous here. That contemptible 121-word effort was actually shared with that bloke off the Cillit Bang advert even though none of us previously knew that he was even on the Rangers* board!

How can a self-professed professional and dignified institution like Rangers* FC expect St Paul Of The Blessed 121 Words to share a tribute with Barry Scott?

Does Paul Murray look like the sort of man who is worthy of 60.5 words?

Or course he doesn’t. He is an absolute hero. A man whose was part of two Rangers-flavoured boards that have overseen the ‘same club’ experiencing calamity and trashing the football rulebook while ultimately stiffing the taxpayer and other creditors.

Paul Murray is an exceptional ‘football man’ who deserves more than a 121-word statement shared with an adverting construct.

Indeed, our wonderful Saint is worth lots of words! All of them fawning and written by your humble correspondent without any specific questions seemingly being asked about what may have prompted him to resign from Clubtiedom and walk out of Blazerville.

The Declaration of Arbroath must have its head in its hands at this gross affront to Scotland’s greatest son. This paper wishes it a speedy recovery.

Let the number 121 forever rot in infamy. For it is the number of the beast who failed to pay exaggerated tribute to the greatest of all really-real Real Rangers* Men.

May we all follow-follow the example of St Paul Of The Blessed 121 Words.


Meanwhile… 😉

Paul Murray rescued Rangers … it should be to Dave King’s eternal shame he has forgotten that


NB Remember folk’s, it’s just a bit of exaggerated satirical fun…

Hibernian, Satire, Sevco

Wibble! Wibble! Wibble!

A Statement from a Stranger to the English Language and the Concept of Self-Awareness

RANGERS* notes Hibernian’s decision to not bow down before us and kiss our feet by slashing SLASHING our supporters’ ticket allocation for the final match of the Scottish Premiership season at Easter Road on Sunday, May 13. [Ed.- May 13 is a Sunday isn’t it? Only we said ‘Saturday’ first time around. We don’t want People to think we are so clueless that we don’t know what day it is.]

Let us be absolutely clear that the ticket reduction is a disgraceful disgrace of disgusting proportions. It also makes us vomit our insides out that Hibernian has not offered to send taxis to pick up those few Rangers* fans who are lucky enough to get one of the Willy Wonka-rare tickets available for the match.

This shocking lack of care means that our supporters, whose loyalty, dedication and behaviour is second to none, will have to risk life, limb and dignity by travelling on PUBLIC TRANSPORT and by CROSSING ROADS. Should any of our fans not be able to get a seat on a train or bus, or if they are beeped at by an impatient driver at a pedestrian crossing, they will have the full* support of this historic history-laden club in seeking redress from a culpable Hibernian. [* Non-financial].

Rangers* especially hopes that the safety of our fans, who will now only be able to belt out The Billy Boys and possibly throw objects from one section of the South Stand rather than filling it completely, will not be compromised by the withdrawal of OUR FULL TICKET ENTITLEMENT.

Let there be no confusion. We will stamp our feet, be extraordinarily arrogant, and make piss-poor threats unless we get our way. We also reserve the right to issue further statements with even longer sentences that go on for quite some time and which struggle to articulate an articulate point while all the time the rest of Scottish football laughs at us like hyenas who can’t believe the absolute state of our PR strategy and who never want the comedy to end.

Those sort of long sentences.

Pandering to our colossal sense of entitlement is the least Rangers* expects for supporters who have repeatedly proven themselves to be the most respectful, loveable and cuddly in the whole Universe. Not only have they sold out away ticketing allocations at opposition stadiums for years, they have revelled in this ‘same club’ selling out the very concept of sporting integrity for over a decade. No one makes a contribution to Scottish football like Rangers* fans.

This was evident as we rose through the divisions when clubs the length and breadth of the country, including Hibernian, benefitted financially and horticulturally from the presence of our fans. Many have been the times that our travelling fans have stopped behind after the match to mow the pitch and tidy the flower beds around the grounds, refusing payment and simply suggesting that the grateful club makes a donation to a charity of their choice.

Rangers* will of course bear in mind Hibernian’s decision in a ‘veiled threat’ sort-of-way, when considering ticketing arrangements for future matches – both home and away – against this particular [*spit*] club.

P*ss off Hibernian. And GIRUY Rod Petrie (although thanks for helping to kill off the proposed review into the handling of this ‘same club’s’ EBT scheme. Good work!).



Club* Statement


NB Remember folks, it’s just a bit of satire…

Satire, Scottish Cup, Sevco

No Really, What WAS He Doing?

What's the goalie daein

Good Evening.

Credit to these folk for providing the inspiration…

Singing: “What’s The Goalie Daein Tom?” 

And to Sevco TV for just being absolutely brilliant…


Waste Oddity

What’s the goalie daein Tom?
What’s the goalie daein Tom?
Take our skelping now and pray Moussa is gone.

What’s the goalie daein Tom? (Bain, Boyata, Simunovic, Ajer, Tierney)
Commencing meltdown, shrieking long. (Brown, Ntcham, Forrest)
Check the scoreline and may Murty be gone soon. (Rogic, McGregor, Dembele!)

Fuck’s sake, what’s the goalie daein Tom?
He’s really made to pay.
And the fans all want to know ‘King, do you care?’
Now it’s time to leave the stadium Loyal Bears.

Nothing daein Tom, the goalie’s shite.
Wes has no England call.
And he’s ‘keeping in a most comedic way.
And the gap looks very frightening today.

“For beer
I need. Drinking from a tin can.
Pints to numb the hurt.

Glasgow isn’t blue.
And there’s f*ck all we can do”

Though the singing’s hateful, rancid, vile.
We’re losing 3-2 still.
And I think our fan base knows it’s time to go.
Tell the board to p*ss off. Blame for all our woes.

What’s the goalie daein Tom?
Our season’s dead, it’s all gone wrong.
What the hell’s he daein Tom?
What the hell’s he daein Tom?
What the hell’s he daein Tom?
What the… “Here am I drinking from a tin can.
Pints after we lose.

Glasgow isn’t blue.
And there’s f*ck all we can do.”

With apologies to David Bowie (no, REALLY), here he is performing his classic hit.

NB Remember folks, it’s just a bit of fun…

Satire, Sevco

The Union Bears Make A Cup Of Tea

Good Evening.

Here is a statement that the Union Bears haven’t actually made…


Enough Is Enough

The Union Bears wish to make it known that events related to the recent performance of Rangers* against Celtic are simply not good enough.

Celtic battered Rangers* and the players looked bereft of ideas in the face of their onslaught. Just as we are lacking in understanding of the difficult words we used in the last sentence when our clever mate suggested we include them for a dare.

But the most shameful display last Sunday came after we all ran crying to our mums and hoped that they would pretend Timmy hadn’t actually won 4-0.

It is our understanding that one supposedly caring mother failed to put a comforting fifth sugar in her boy’s cup of tea when he got home from the match.

This proud bear was left humiliated and practically choking on his possibly sectarian four-sugar cup of tea.

The loyalty and dignity of Rangers* fans usually knows no bounds. But sadly we have no option but to take this suspected Fenian Mum to task and hope that she is rattled by our utterly futile gesture.

As such, the Union Bears announce that while we will continue to drink tea, it will not have a watery presence. For too long the parental forces of refreshment have taken us for granted and assumed that we will accept whatever is put in front of us.

But no more. Until such time as our every last tragic squealing grievance has been addressed, we will hold a firm line and only drink tea without any water in it.

We trust that this hardline stance will convince the Rangers* board of our credentials and determination.

However, should that not prove to be the case, the current custodians of our club* should be in no doubt that we will continue to end all our statements with ‘No Surrender’ to increasing comic effect.

No Surrender.




NB Remember folks, it’s just a bit of satirical fun…