Earwig on El Bungalow, Psychics and Respectful Pasta

The price of Alfredo Morelos is going up at a weekly rate of inflation not seen since the days of the Weimar Republic…

… partly as a result of joining this motley crew honoured in a tweet by Bet 365. Which prompted this reply from Noza Render…

Yes, dear reader, I am gutted that the likes of Bobby Lennox and Henrik Larsson cannot find their way on to a list of Rangers strikers. Indeed, even the mention of their current hero’s nickname strikes fear into my soul. El Bungalow (followed by several exclamation marks), so called, perhaps, because, like Mister Render, there’s nothing up top?

At least Noza seems to understand that 25 is quite a high number, a talent for numeracy that isn’t shared by everyone who cheers on El Bungalow on a Saturday.

Like Duncan here, who thinks that the expression “We Are The People” consists of three words. Three words that he would ejaculate should El Bungalow ever invite Duncan to have fajitas with him.

Imagine the confusion should ever Duncan, El Bungalow and Born a Blue Nose here ever dine out at a fajita restaurant and then have to split the bill three ways. Born a Blue Nose is evidently under the impression that an eight point gap can be closed in two games. 2 x 3 = 8 you see.

This Orwellian doublethink maybe helps ease Born’s angst, an unease that disappears during the week but resurfaces whenever results don’t go the way of El Bungalow and his team mates. The slightest hint of a reverse sees Born and his brethren, such as Bluethruandthru surfing their sea of sludge with advice for their rookie manager. For who else but a rookie would have failed to go for the juggler in order to strengthen the team during the transfer window?

And as if not pairing the juggler with El Bungalow wasn’t a hanging offence in itself, along comes Connor to hit the nail right on the head…

I’m not entirely convinced by the argument that speeding up the chanting will necessarily bring success. That said, it might get the pulses quickening, and that’s very important when you’re dealing with a reanimated corpse of a football club.

So it’s either chant things quicker or let’s go down to Ibrox, hold hands and try to get in contact with the dead at one of the occasional Psychic Nights they have. I might suggest that Dave King and the concert party are actually trolling their own supporters but no, it’s a serious thing and not a suitable subject for parody. Not least because I wouldn’t want to bring religion into it. Amy here might think I was using a sectarian slur…

For in Amy’s dimwit world there are Kaffliks and there are Parodies, and she probably thinks that all the Kaffliks support Celtic and all the Parodies support Sevco – and when you put it that way there’s a germ of truth in that statement.

As I’m sure the Parodies would agree as they gather round for their seance to get in touch with their dearly departed share certificates and debenture seats, death is no laughing matter, so thank goodness your humble correspondent has discovered a wordsmith to rival the Sevconian loonball I featured in a previous column who gave us these immortal lines in his ode to the Ibrox manager: “There’s something about both your eyes that are blue”… “You are like a grandson from the World war that Rangers won, we will get the battle fever on and build those ships to sail you to the Somme.”

Here is the one and only Melody Beckford to offer some words of comfort should you ever wake up in the night and weep softly into your can of export thinking about the brave angle above – whether concave or convex – Princess Di. Take it away Melody: