With half an hour to go at Easter Road you could have picked your seat.
Neil Lennon should have tried one out for size seeing as his holiday from the dugout is approaching.
He would probably complain it was the wrong size or shape though. That’s the way he is these days.
He had just watched his side beat Hibs by 3 goals to nil and you can bet your last British pound that he was complaining about something or other.
It’s in his nature. He can’t help himself.
He’s the ginger whinger, the Irish irritant.
With Gary Hooper taking 3 touches before eventually squeezing in the opener, Lennon would be better off coaching rather than complaining.
Not that I’m bothered, I hate the bigot brothers and the so-called EssPeeEll. Couldn’t give a flying monkeys toss about them. Really I couldn’t, honest.
So when Anthony Stokes stroked home a soft penalty then got lucky with a hooked shot you can take it as read that carrot top was bumping his gums to someone about it.
Me? I really wanted this report to be all about the football, the brilliant passes, the stunning goals, the moments that got you OFF your seat not out of them and home by half time.
But again it’s all about referees, linesmen, the corrupt SFA and Oirish music played at top speed to drunken louts in plastic pubs.
Lennon? He won’t care, he’s too busy complaining that his beer is too flat or the jukebox is too loud.
Enjoy the game from the stand, Neil.
You won’t find me complaining about that.
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