As this was my first visit to a Glasgow Celtic match I have gladly agreed to do a report on the Shamrocks and Shenanigans of that glorious weekend in February 2003.
It started with an early morning wake-up call from Joe R after a late night poker match with a few of the lads and Tom “Maverick” McCloskey.  We packed the car and set sail for the ferry to Scotland and after a thankfully peaceful crossing and quick scoot up the tartan brick road in the volvo we arrived in Glasgae!

We dropped our bags off and headed across town to start the infamous Saturday session. After being introduced to the lhads, we let rip on the pool table with a bout of pound-a-man killers (I won 2 out of 4 games – which was nice!) We then watched Tom and Wanchope battle it out for a massive £10.00! Tom, under protest, lost. Ha ha!
So, pretty well oiled we all headed to the hotel for the 3 s’es, ‘shower’, ‘shave’ and Tom did an unbelievable ‘shite’ in our toilets for about half an hour!
We headed down to the hotel bar to discuss the night-time festivities over a few pints but as I had never been I didn’t have much input, and then I spilt a full pint over myself. Nice one.
Things didn’t get much better for me either because after singing my head off to “Come out ya black and tans” and “Boys from the Old Brigade” in the Brazen Head we decided to jump into taxis to go back up town to continue the drinkathon. Well, when I say “jumped” Tom actually hijacked our taxi and then argued with the taxi man because he thought he was going the wrong way, even though the taxi man was Glaswegian and had been a taxi man for 15 years, but Tom knows best.
Almost immediately after getting out of the taxi I lost everyone and after trying a few mobiles I decided to cut my losses and head back to the hotel. But could I find the hotel? Could I f*ck! I spent a good hour walking around the streets (and motorways) of Glasgow before I attracted the attention of the local Glasgow police by shouting drunken abuse. They kindly put me in a taxi home after a slight ticking off.
The next morning came and as I lay looking forward to the trip home I suddenly remembered that there was a match to go to!! Happy f*cking days!!  After a dodgy breakfast in the hotel restaurant we all headed over to park the cars and go for a pint. We all met up in Haughans. A colourful bar which would fire up the rebellious fighting spirit in any mhan!

A quick trek across a few roads and we were at the gates to the mighty Celtic Park. I had real excitement in my stomach but it couldve been a mix of beer from the night before, the dodgy breakfast, or the 4 pints of Irn Bru I drank in Haughans! As we walked up the steps to go out onto the terraces I couldn’t believe the mass of green and white the whole way round the stadium and the pitiful 50 or so Livvy fans seated to our left. I was hoping they’d play The fields of Athenry so I could see the famous Sea of scarves but when it was played very few people actually did it. D’oh! Then followed the Hoops running onto the pitch and forming the famous Huddle which cost me a few snaps on my camera. I was totally taken back by the roar that went up just at the sight of the team emerging from the dug out.
The match started and as we sat behind the nets in the Lisbon Lions end I was praying for loads of goals. There was a couple of early chances but disaster struck as Henky went down under a strong aerial challenge from a Livingston defender.

We knew as he walked past us, about 5 yards away, that he was badly hurt. It wasn’t until after a dismal first half that we heard one of the stewards say that his jaw was broke. If that wasn’t bad enough, Livingston then took the lead at the start of the second half. I started blaming myself thinking I had cursed Celtic. First Larsson gets his jaw broke and now we’re going to get beat at home by sh*tty Livingston! The only thing that couldve made me feel better was a green and white goal, and I got one. An amazing free kick from young Sean Maloney struck the post and was tapped in by Momo Sylla. Celtic Park erupted with noise and I nearly broke Joe R’s nose by jumping out of my seat. It erupted for a second time when an almost instant replay free kick was converted by Chris Sutton. We managed to salvage a win and as we walked out of the grounds I felt a feeling of relief from everyone wearing a Celtic top.
We jumped into the car after giving a wee Glaswegian scally a quid for “looking after our car” and we set sail for the journey back to Norn Iron.
There was a few incidents on the return journey which included, stopping into a Rangers bar in Girvan and Joe R being seduced by a 40 something who kept flashing her tits. All good craic but this report is long enough.
All in all, it was a fantastic weekend which made me proud to be a Tim.