Oh this series of Sevco is getting very complicated…
Back in the day when Rangers were still alive I worked on a much simpler story dear reader.
Despite all of the millions of words on the Ibrox omnishambles it was indeed very straightforward.
I stated back in 2009 that, due to the world financial crisis, the days of easy lending to Murray International Holdings was over.
Subsequently as the parent company was hamstrung so too would the noisy subsidiary in Govan be.
I told readers here of the arithmetic of the Big tax Case and I said that it would make the club unsellable to anyone who wanted to make a go of the place.
Then it was time to break the bad news that Craig Whyte might not be a billionaire with unfathomable wealth.
Despite the threats and smears from The People I had to tell them that Rangers would run out of money before the end of Season 2011-2012 and that their club would suffer an Insolvency Event.
Moreover once they were in Administration I stated that there was no chance of a lifesaving CVA with Hector in the room.
None of this was difficult to foresee and I claim no special attributes apropos clairvoyance.
The only thing that made me look in any way prescient was that the mainstream media were saying the exact opposite pretty much all the way along.
Now to the Sevco story and all is changed, and I mean changed UTTERLY.
The reality is that there is very little of this mess that is in anyway discernible even to seasoned Ibrox watchers.
I remarked to a very well placed Sevco source yesterday that I had no idea how this story was going to play out.
He assured me that the central players at Ibrox have no idea what is coming down the pipe next either!
Back when Rangers were still with us I was able to tell The People what was likely to happen.
Yes yes I know dear reader that they didn’t believe me at the time, but now I can’t be of any help to them at all.
This is a great shame because they clearly need help.
The recent far right performance art in George square by the klan should be proof enough of that.
Of course my sources continue to tell me what is happening within Ibrox much to the bafflement of senior members of the two year old club.
However what I am being told paints a picture of, to say the least, a highly fluid situation where the principals do not know what the next day will bring.
If this WAS television series then the scriptwriting team would have a trophy room full of Emmy awards.
So many moving pieces, internecine strife in the board room, even broken plates.
Craigy Boy assisted by the Worthington chaps have recently reappeared like the ghost of Sevco past by sending missives by courier to the dramatis personae of this fascinating farce.
The common factor in these two stories is, of course, The People.
Without them none of this would have been possible.
They have played their role wonderfully well as easily fooled fascists from Central Casting.
They are the saddest sight in this entire vista as they pitifully believe that they are part of some higher civilisation and that, ahem,’ Britannia rules the waves’.
As this series stumbles along, the shark long ago jumped, then the very concept of ‘Rangersness’ is very threadbare now.
The entire brand is crumbling rather like the stadium.
It is entirely understandable that The People would like to know what is happening.
Only yesterday millions of TIFC share changed hands from Hargreave Hale to a French bank-BNP.
I know, I know…
In the Glens and Straths of Planet Fitba the guid folk also want to know what will finally befall RIFC.
Well there’s our problem right there dear reader.
The people who should probably know don’t have a Scooby.
Of course Planet Fitba is something of a centre of excellence for conspiracy theories.
Subsequently the collective consciousness of the place is populated with Machiavellian types moving chess pieces around in a sequenced choreographed way.
Sadly the truth is shabbier.
Away from the spin and the lamb fuelled pish the reality is that, quite simply, RIFC/TRFC is clusterfuck central.
The Boardroom is split, but as least it is not the table itself. Just a couple of chairs in the wee dining room next door on Monday night so no biggy…
In fairness I blame big Stubbsy for leading off the Hibbee choir in the away dressing room.
The most recent foul up was the issuing of new Share Certificates bearing the imprimatur of Charles of Normandy and the shaky scribble of little Stockbridge.
Although it produced a chuckle it isn’t significant in anyway.
It was just more incompetence.
Charles of Normandy is not in the building, but The People still send him a tithe to his château every time they enter the Big House as I understand that he receives his feudal dues via several onerous match day contracts.
For me this conjures up the wonderful image of Downton Abbey meets Last of the summer wine with just a dash of Clochemerle!
A hat tip to the script writing team.