There is an institution somewhere in Glasgow that is home to several like-minded but highly delusional and emotionally scarred individuals.
This haven of insanity has for many years operated a policy of selective admission. The inmates firmly believed that they had inherited the Earth and until recently they were not disabused of this opinion after all the evidence was clear. Here was an institution which sat at the very epicentre of Scottish society and ruled the world through a combination of force of numbers, media patronage and sectarianism fuelled by fear and loathing.
One day Dr Hector came knocking and started a process that has resulted in the inmates self harming, shouting at the moon and adopting multiple personalities.
Very quickly this bi-polar behaviour lost them many friends at the care home.
Fortunately for the chief inmates they do still have a good friend in Jim Traynor that self-styled financial correspondent and part-time sports journalist from the Daily Off The Record.
Here is a true friend and ally who is ever willing to come to the aid of his good friends. Of course it is clear this peddler of myths has no respect for the truth or even the facts as long as he can continue to sit at the feet of the former rulers of the world.
And what a world it once was as before them lay the whole of Scottish Football only too willing to jump to their tune, eat the succulent lamb from their table and drink the wine of promise. It was easy to become complacent and begin to believe that the whole of British society was of the same mind…until Hector came knocking. Of course long before that the mental managers of the Bank of Scotland were shipped out to a less cosy funny farm and Lloyds [the bank not the pharmacy] took over, walking the wards changing the medication and setting about seeking another clinical director to replace Dr Sir David Murray
Oh what a stroke of luck they came across Whyte he had everything they needed, except money.
A deal was quickly done and the inmates returned to self-medicating feeding off what the deluded scribes were saying. Happy days were here again except there were no happy pills left.
Sadly for our patients they cannot afford to pay for the health care that is required to make them better again. I fear with the wolves howling once again at the full moon and the bears at the gates we may be seeing them drinking the last of their summer wine.
Now where’s that biscuit tin?