First the good bit... first half as discussed above: corking cup tie both sides up for it ended up 2-1 us could have arguably been 3-2 either way with no complaints... okay, maybe that was the obligiatory fortifying drinks required for Red Army duty on the Y in mid winter clouding my judgement but Mackie snapped up his chance for once and Brewster did the wily old pro bit to a T and all in all a throughly entertaining half which actually had you licking yer lips for Part II.
Sadly like most sequels this one was ***** - same cast but nae real plot, the occasional cameo and a couple decent scenes but almost entirely forgettable - bar that is Noel Whelan, who missed TWO absolute sitters.
Or as one Red behind us put it:
"Aw fer ****'s sake Whelan - Stephen ****in Hawking could a put at een awa."
As he missed the second sitter we heard the same guy telling his mate: "Ahm tellin ye min - Whelan, he's the ****in Keith Edwards o the New Millenium"... it's hard nae to disagree.
For those of you unaware of who Keith Edwards is he was an the irredeemably ****e striker (English-circa 1987) signed by Portaloo replace the legend that was Frunkie "the Hipflask" McDougall - and I mean he was truly ****e. With him and his partner in crime Gary "Cannae ****in" Hackett - signed from Shrewsbury to replace Peter Weir FFS!!!! - it is little wonder most Reds have repressed or simply blanked out the horrors that were the Portaloo years?
If Whelan's performances are so woeful there are summoning up these demons within then you can rest assured that if Whelan, like Edwards and Hackett before him (and Mike ****in Newell come to think of it), comes, sees and ****s off without doing very much then he winna be mourned by most Reds.
Still in the bag for the next round at least - St Mirren would be nice, Celtic away obviously a no no ta very much - and if Hibs get Celtic at home that'll do nicely.
Crowd: pish (for us), lifeless too. This fixture will turn into a well attended pretty intense rivalry over the next few generations but try as I might I just cannae bring masel to hate Caley. Mind you after an hour and a half the endless "Caley Caley" chants (I mean, one ****in chant, that's all they've got... A CHANT not even a goddamn ****in song for God's sake! Grrrrr) really begin to get on yer tits. Added to this there were drummers....FFS!
I tell ye what this fixture needs is a good 21 man all-in brawl and maybes a dressing room food fight or two...
The Road to Hamp-dump continues for the Righteous Forces of God's Own Republic of Aberdonia then, so must grumble too much I suppose.
The Red Avenger