“They’re journalists, not Rangers fans”

Sick and tired of the idiots at DoSac, Malcolm Tucker has decided to take on a new bunch of idiots, this time rolling up at Hampden Park to sort out the SFA.

Malcolm indicated an awareness of Scottish football in an outburst about journalists when he was under pressure in London and has decided to play a part in the revitalisation of the Scottish game.

Tucker is a busy man but we’ll be receiving his perfectly manipulated and calculated press releases over the next few weeks but as a treat, he has given us the transcription of his first meetings within the bowels of the home of Scottish football.

The following transcripts come from conversations from the first day of Tucker’s reign, starting with a meeting with Chief Executive Gordon Smith.

“Right Wiggy, shut the door….You look ridiculous don’t you? It’s like someone has tipped a can of Ronseal all over you. It does exactly what it says on the tin…if the tin says “Look like a complete c**t” on it.”

“I’ve been looking at your CV and I cant find anything at all in it which would suggest you are a candidate to run a Scottish institution, what do you say to that?”

“Dougie Donnelly likes me…”

“I bet he does, hes a man with a shredded wheat on his head and it still looks better than yours. He hates you, he thinks you are the biggest clown since Bozo took a growth spurt after too many steroids. David Brent laughs at you for being over the top. Be on your way Wiggy….oh hold on, are you still in touch with Paul McCartney?”

“Yes Malcolm, shall I call….”

“Shut up, good, next time you see him, tell he is a Scouse ballbag and if I hear the ‘Pipes of Peace’ one more time, the pipes will be rammed up his ringpiece so hard, everytime he coughs, his arse will be playing ‘The Frog Chorus.’”

“Right, send in Broadfoot”
“He’s not here”
“Why not?”
“He is serving his notice with The Herald.”
“Get him on the phone then….”

After a trying time with The Herald switchboard trying to track down the soon to be Joseph Goebbels of the SFA, Tucker was on his case;

“Darryl, you ought to have a word with The Herald. Your column has a picture of the work experience idiot beside it. To be fair, it looks as though they let him write it too. So, what makes you right for this job? Hmmm….really….that makes you right for a special school, not the SFA”

“So how long until you are with us?”

“Really, Christ…are you working your notice or is that how long it will take you to climb off Michelle McManus? Were you taking one for the team that night? Did Keech Jackson fancy her pal and you had to climb on? Still, when the chips are down eh Darryl?”

“Seriously though Darryl, if thats the level of your judgment this role may not be for you. Do you think Alisdair Darling got where he is by riding lassies you need crampons to reach the North Face of?”

“What…I said crampons you fool, they’re a special type of shoe. Right, tell you what Darryl, ask your boss at the Herald if you can stay on there. If I want a monkey with slick hair, I’ll be in Edinburgh Zoo dishing out the Bryclreem. Tattie f***king bye Darryl”

A few minutes later, a knock at the door and an obese man wheezes about in the doorway.

“Aah yes, Mr Peat, Petey, f**k the f**k in or f**k the f**k off. Right you, a question? What was the biggest setback to Scotland’s World Cup hopes? Chris Iwulemo’s miss or the ballbag who agreed the appointment of that effete boozehound we previously had in charge?”

“Err….well, you see….hmmmm”

“Heres a clue, it doesn’t rhyme with Piss Iwelumo. Who have you got in mind for the next job? Ollie Reed? Richard Burton? Keith Floyd? Yes, I know they’re all dead but even six feet under, they wouldn’t be a worse choice than your last pick.”

“Right Pete, what was Boozegate really about? Was Burley beeling the boys were on the sauce without him? Was he up in his room tanning the duty free whilst they were paying Cameron House bar prices? I’d be raging at that as well. Where were you at this point? I bet you stayed over in Amsterdam for a few days. You and that big hump Jim Traynor no doubt? Are you brothers? Same dad maybe, Johnny Manatee? Eff me Petey, is it any wonder the national game is goosed when you look as though a mild jog would kill you. Get out of my sight.”

It had been a long day for Malcolm Tucker but with the state of the SFA, longer days will surely follow.

Stay tuned to WeKnowSFA for the latest updates from Tucker’s campaign to get Scottish football back on top where it belongs.

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