Noughties And Nice

Over the weekend there was a program called: "What The Noughties Gave Us" on some free to view license fee paid channel.

I'll tell you what the Noughties gave us was numerous shit list programs where Z list celebs, washed up TV Presenters and unfunny comedians talk absolute bollocks about subjects - that they have been given a list of beforehand but get asked to make it look off the cuff- that no-one cares about.

It also gave us the taste of lager soiled with carelessly disgarded fag ash when we discuss International friendlies or anything International as club football is king.

International friendlies are soulless bleak useless vessels where all shred of human emotion is sucked out of our lifeless bodies. A bit like Bridlington.

Scotland folded like a pack of cards against the Welsh School Boys select as the SFA pylon suits could only watch in wonder at a youth program that produces a Ramsey and a Ledley.

Talk afterwards that someone off the record told reporters that the Scotland team couldnae be arsed. This comes as no surprise.

I remember talking to a well oiled Scottish international at a wedding. He was a regular under Brown/Vogts and was playing in the EPL at the time. I asked him about internationals and he said couldnae give a fuck, only useful for getting more money.

I use this as a rule of thumb when I think about thinking too hard about Internationals.

Still, you would expect managers to grasp the basics of the game. Over the last 18 months we have seen things that make us think we know nothing about the game as incumbents continually  play players and tactics that bemuse and don't work.

The Scotland team lined up with Fox, Caldwell and Mick. In desperation to give Fox a cap Jim Jeffries Seat Warmer ignored that his form is slightly less impressive than his commitment to body art and that Caldwell and Mick are the Cannon and Ball of defending.

It's last outing saw it ship 3 goals to the worse team in the league (now with another 3 in the against column) and it's only the fickle finger of fate (damn you, you bony dirty stick like body part ) that saw it reconvene then on that day.

Picking it again, via choice and not necessity, is a sign of a cluelessness. It is with much hope that we pray that the healing powers contained in the spa bath of Lennoxtown is warming the cockles of The Loovenator.

The Caldwell and Mick show for the sake of humanity should be put down, buried in a deep pit, petrol poured on the lifeless corpse and set alight like it is a disease ridden cow.

That's covered the bad and ugly of internationals. Let's end this sermon on a good note. Niall McGinn.

A MOTM performance against Serbia - a decent side that like all Eastern European teams have that knack of playing at walking pace but zipping through the gears when needed and who do the simple things like pass the ball to each other really well - when he took apart the Serbian fullback apart.

I was reminded of a young Joe Miller before he succumbed to inevitable average disease one which inflicts most promising Scots youngsters.

He was described as willow the wisp, a jackal and a ferret by the sound of sexually excited commentators in the Province.

At one point they mused surely clubs top clubs must looking at McGinn and be impressed.

Suitably offended I was.