On a miserable, dark, dirtiest of dirty days I woke up to the most beautiful day imaginable. The ever resourceful O’Hare has acquired two briefs for Rugby Park the day before and we were off to watch Martin O’Neill and his championees clinch the title.

I was met in Queen St station first of all by one of those spiritual leader types – you know the ones who sleep on the street and have no material possessions apart from the beads in their hair. She gave me a GOURANGA lighter which means ‘be happy’ – told her I was already in a blissfully happy mood and to politely remove herself from my dancespace and go find some huns to cheer up instead. I kept the lighter though!

I then hopped on the Glasgow Metro to Govan (The Orient Express pails in comparison I kid thee not) to meet the guys from Govan Emerald who were kindly providing the transport down the A77. As I was walking through the park I noticed this bent over figure in a long brown coat struggling with a blue plastic bag. Not wanting to be syringed I kept my distance till he starting roaring and hollering at me. I soon realised it was none other than Stevie O’Hare – the man himself – just woken up and getting his fix of Glens vodkie into him! I thought I could do with the same so I grabbed a bottle of fine scotch malt and joined in.

We were soon on our way to Kilmarnock, singing songs, banging windies, and jeering passing huns that were out doing their shopping or some other exciting chore. The craic was good. We made it into the Park Hotel right next door to Rugby Park – super smashing lurvvely. Queued up for a round of whiskey and beer and both agreed we need a place like that at Parkhead for a handy matchday drink, a damn good idea.

Once inside the ground, the crowd was in good voice – the Celtic ones that is. We took up all four ends and the entire main stand – whiskey is some stuff by the way!
The noise at kick-off was momentous, the expectation even higher again and Larsson, Lennon and the boys tried hard not to disappoint. The singing died down as the game became flat, so I decided to nip out for some pies just before half time. Of course the game had kicked off 15 minutes late, without either of us realising, (Whiskey mark 2) so actually only 30 minutes had passed, and Stan the man went and stuck it in the net – feckin typical. Pies were damn good though.
The second half started and it was as dreary as the first – the highlight being whenever all 5ft 3 of Stephen Murray got the ball down the left. FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD, FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD…..YA MUNCHKIN….YA FANNY….came the cry from our section – cruel but hilarious!
Anyway the match ended after 90 minutes (thank fuck) and the party began. Singing and dancing, clapping and roaring, bouncing and swearing – get it up yees ya huns – WE WON THE LEAGUE AGAIN! Then a bit of ROLL WITH IT the ould classic!

The players and Martin gave us a superb lap of honour and we let them know what an achievement it is to win the league undefeated. First class. After what seemed like the 50th chorus of  ‘Theres only one Neil Lennon’ he finally left the pitch about 5 minutes after the rest of the team. What a Celt.

We made it back to Glasgow for a celebratory drink in the Tall Cranes, the local of the more than generous Govan Emerald CSC. The DJ cranked up his music box and off we went again – celebrating in true drunken style! It was a case of how many pints, songs, whiskeys, dances we good get in before we had to think about getting home and work in the morning. Forget that! Party On Party Hard! That’s what’s winning the league is all about.

We got a lift back to Steve’s gaff to get something to eat via Sainsburys to grab some more booze. Some laugh running around the Govan supermarket half pished wearing the hoops and a smile! Then O’Hare had a brain wave – one of two I have ever witnessed, but definitely the best. Go left here Lisa – right here – left at these lights – Right!!! Stop the car!! – OUT GO GO GO……..

I’ll laugh till the day I die. That was the day we recaptured the league and celebrated in style.

MOM Stephen O’Hare