Earwig on Trump, Chuck Baldwin and President Ousmane Tianor Dieng

The US presidential election last November (see arsehole above) certainly made for compulsive viewing for your intrepid correspondent. Furiously Googling in the wee sma’ hours places I’d never heard of before I certainly learned a lot about the inhabitants of some of the more obscure corners of America.

Freeborn County, Minnesota, for example is apparently a bog standard agrarian Midwestern county with a largish town as the county seat, but has a particularly intriguing town in it. Myrtle is a tiny place with a population of 30 where the entire economy seems to be a bar, a grain elevator and…a strip club. Further digging revealed that there’s a park there as well and a couple of closed buildings and a “pop shack” which is basically two pop/soda machines put together which don’t work. Yet the bar and strip club still get great business. The strip club actually makes up a notable portion of its economy.

All of which got me thinking about Robbie here and where he might go should he and his beloved Sevco ever decide to do us all a favour:

Give Azerbaijan a break – they’ve done nothing to you – and instead, try Franklin County, Idaho, where you can vote for conspiracy theorist, survivalist, and Christian Identity associate Bo Gritz. I’m reliably informed that Backwoods Idaho really loves the right-wing fringe. There’s also the Constitution Party to vote for there. Presidential candidate Chuck Baldwin, whose beliefs are a bizarre mixture of Christian theocracy, borderline white supremacy, government-hating and libertarian stances on the War on Drugs and the War on Terror – in other words, a perfect fit for certain types in backwoods Idaho – once won a precinct in Bonneville County. These guys are right up your Copeland Road. It’s also four and a half thousand miles away. Everyone’s a winner.
Which brings us to Donald Trump, who wasn’t a winner but a complete loser. In case you had forgotten what the strange connection between Donald trump and Rangers (the one that died in 2012) was, the article from the Guardian (above) provided a timely reminder.

“Around the time Rangers were facing their own dire financial situation, (they mean liquidation/ death – Ed) Trump was working to push through his first Scottish golf course in the coastal village of Balmedie, just outside Aberdeen. Trump, who has Scottish roots through his mother, Mary Anne MacLeod, became aware of the opportunity to bail out the Glasgow club and took a close look at their finances.

“His interest appeared to be genuine and he was sort-of qualified: Trump had a background in sports franchise ownership through his tenure running the New Jersey Generals, an American football club in the short-lived United States Football league during the 1980s. He also claims to be a Presbyterian, another commonality with the historically Protestant club. In the end, though, the financial situation at Rangers was so dismal that even Trump walked away.”

Jeez, how bad must it have been when a guy with six bankruptcies and a dodgy relationship with the taxman did walking away? Could he not just have dumped the debt and renamed them something else – the New Govan Genitals perhaps, in a nod to his previous sports enterprise?

A compulsive liar, purveyor of fake news and hero to a horde of flagshagging dimwits, we are left to ponder what on earth could have been the attraction of Rangers to Donald Trump in the first place?

Should the nappy-wearing ex-president still retain an interest in buying a Scottish club there is one who would welcome him with open arms, it seems. (And no, before you ask, this is not a Photoshop job – these people are genuinely as unhinged as they appear).

And while we’re on the subject, I hope that those who are keen on voting took part in this poll instigated by HuffPost UK Entertainment – the 32 Hunniest Huns to ever Hun.

Personally I clicked on a link expecting to be able to endorse the Hunny Hun credentials of such Death Star luminaries as Alex McDonald, Alex Rae or Andy Halliday. These three are Hunny Huns I’ve always been able to apprici-hate. I also thought there might be categories so that I could vote for lots of other Hunny Huns: Hunny Huns of the 90s maybe, or Hunny Huns from the continent, who started

off normal before becoming Hunny Huns.

Instead it was… er… I’m not too sure who these particular Hunny Huns are but I’m sure they’re staunch nevertheless.

The kind of Hunny Huns who might actually get a tattoo celebrating one of the aforementioned. The one and only Andy Flallibae himself, immortalised on Hunny Hun’s arse in indelible ink – forever.

Kris Boyd is another Hunny Hun you might consider voting for. As for a tattoo, there’s always an action pose – possibly this one from his Kilmarnock competitive pie-eating days:

But seriously folks, despite a few lapses in the last couple of pages you have to be careful these days when it comes to insensitive use of the H word. An injudicious lapse in print or in speech might lead to complaints from swivel-eyed H.. sorry, concerned citizens such as those who bombarded the Sun with howls of protest following this headline:

And with that success comes T shirt producers with Hunny Huns to fleece, of which there are a multitude. Not so with proof readers, though, unless Gessard did indeed used to be a member of the police force.

Next time, get We Are Coming (below) to check the spelling over:

On second thoughts perhaps not. By the look of things he’s been taking English lessons from Nacho Novo. In a cryptic message worthy of submission to Bletchley Park, Mr Coming (or can I call you We?) also references a French cartoon character along with President Ousmane Tianor Dieng, General Secretary of the Socialist Party of Senegal (below).

Do your sums (or do u, r sums) is his heartfelt plea, although if he gets together with Steven McManus (below) they’d probably still get the answer wrong.