ALISTAIR WILL MANAGE JUST FINE by Mark Hateful

I have to say I’m not surprised I read that Alistair McCoist was to become the new manager of Rangers – I had a newspaper in my hands at the time.

If my old strike partner fell in a tin of salmon he’d come out smelling like he did most mornings at training. Alistair always did like a little night out but when it came to doing the business on the park he was never lacking.

The announcement was of course tinged with more than a little sadness as it confirms that my old gaffer Walter Smith will definitely be retiring in the summer – if it were up to me I’d tell him to go upstairs immediately. I’d also like him to stay on at Ibrox in some capacity too.

Back to Alistair though and after the disappointment of Sunday’s game against Celtic yesterday’s news will give everyone at Rangers a massive lift and one which may just propel them all the way to the SPL title.

Some may look at him and wonder if he can take the job seriously enough but beyond that cheeky chappie exterior beats the heart of a strict disciplinarian. I think some of the players at Ibrox will be in for a rude awakening when my old strike partner brings their wives and girlfriends home at 7am.

Alistair will have to be his own man – nobody should be able to tell him how to do his job or how to structure his side, even a former striker who feels he could get a job working with the current forwards. No, Alistair has to do it HIS way or nor at all.

Speaking of which, my old partner in the showers should watch out for the shadier side of the business. I remember getting a telephone call from someone in my days at Ibrox regarding an upcoming match against Marseilles. He said to me: “I am French. I am offering you one million pounds not to play in the game against Marseilles. This is a bribe”.

I pondered over the call and after a while could only deduce that someone wanted me to take money for not playing against Marseille. Alistair could do worse than heed my advice on this matter – but I stress he has to be his own man in the job.

So as we prepare for Walter Smith’s brown brogues of dignity to make their way down the marble staircase of tradition for the last time, we are consoled by the fact that Alistair McCoist will be filling his managerial chair for the start of next season.

Lock up your daughters, wives, Mothers and Grandmothers. It is going to be a rollercoaster ride. But you know what – strap me in.

As told to Keith Jackson

LEGGO GLAND giving it to you twisted

I was settling down to my traditional breakfast of rashers and brandy when i spotted, from my eyes, someone walking along my garden path.

Was it the head of the Roman Catholic Church in Scotland, delivering pamphlets detailing evil Easter services?

Or could it be Pope Benedict himself, ready to preach his prophecies of hate on my doorstep?

Or perhaps even Odious Creep, lining my path with communion candles, designed to burn my feet as I walked out minding my own business?

Lo and behold, it was the postman, delivering a package, addressed to myself, at my address.

What did the package contain? Could it be the long awaited Walter Smith book, which would replace the crusty old copies of the Rangers News in my bed chamber?

Or perhaps the complete memoirs of Pastor Jack Glass, complete with discreetly placed naked photo signed by the man himself?

My hands trembled as I opened it, so I downed another brandy, and ripped the box open, as I would rip the cardigan from Walter Smith’s torso.

To my delight, it contained a bottle of red wine, complete with a note which congratulated me on my daily blog, signed Martin.

Ah, recognition at last! My friend Martin Bain had sent me a bottle of the finest red, straight from no doubt Sir David Murray’s personal collection.

I supped lustily from the bottle and read the note once more, and recoiled in horror as I read the label more carefully – communion wine!

And not from Martin Bain, but from Martin O’Neill, who had signed his surname on the back of the note – no doubt on the instruction of Odious Creep, who once again had got one over on me.

Creep wins again – but my ongoing war with him has now reached a new phase.

McCOIST IN HARDBALL FURY by Robert Aggrieved

Furious Rangers last night threatened to pull out of the proposed transfer of American super star Carlos Bocanegra after his club St Etienne upped the transfer fee.

The Ibrox club believed a deal worth £400,000 had been agreed with his club St Etienne and were ready to name the USA captain in the squad for the Europa League formality tie tomorrow night.

The French cracks then threw a last minute spanner into the works by demanding £401,000 – with the extra to be paid in a LUMP SUM.

A frantic series of phone calls between Gordon Smith and boss Ally McCoist failed to resolve the matter and late last night the deal hung in the balance.

It is though Motherwell billionaire Craig Whyte will personally jet in from his Speyside castle to personally take control as he personally sees Bocanegra as a vital part of any future success personally.

McCoist was remaining tight lipped last night as he told us: “We remain hopeful that something can be done to resolve the matter but we won’t be held to ransom. We want the player and we believe he wants to come but his club need to play baseball here instead of lumping more and more on the transfer fee.”

CELTS STRUGGLE AT LOVE STREET by Leccy Bill

Sometimes this game leaves you wondering what it’s all about.

Take St Mirren Park on Sunday, where the chill in the air made it feel more like November than the end of August.

But the ill wind blew in more than just cold. It introduced the usual band of IRA loving sweethearts who wouldn’t know semtex from sweetex.

And that’s the rub. After Celtic went two nil up from a sclaff by Hooper which somehow ended up in the net they were in full voice, a hateful choir conducted by their snarling, snapping manager on the touchline.

Instead of increasing their lead though the away side retreated into their bigoted shells and invited St Mirren to attack them.

And boy did they attack. A black and white maelstrom of non-sectarianism powered forward and only poor refereeing, lucky defending and the shameful chanting from the away hordes prevented Saints from scoring six.

Referee Willie Collum denied the home side three penalties whilst allowing two perfectly good Celtic goals. At one point I’m sure I saw hip lip synch with the away support, which is all well and good if he’s at Ibrox.

Saints will take heart from this defeat and knowing they have the decent Lennon as manager, a man who knows how to wear a suit and tie.

As for Celtic, they saluted their fans at the end and surely knew this would be their last win of the season, a season which promises a treble for Ally McCoist.

But I’m sure they’ll console themselves with songs of diddly-dee hatred.

And a potato.

Muscat: McKay is "the new me"

Rangers will be signing the Australian Pele if they land Matt McKay this week.

That’s the view of former Ger Kevin Muscat who knows McKay well from their brief spell together for the Australian national side in 2006.

As well as his skills with a football Muscat reckons McKay will have the Ibrox dressing room in stitches with his hilarious impressions of Lizzie Birdsworth and Bea Smith from Prisoner Cell Block H.

Speaking exclusively to Sunsport from a bar in Melbourne Muscat said: “There’s no doubt in my mind that Matt will take the SPL by one hell of a storm. He’s not known as the Australian Pele but he is to me – that’s how highly I rate the bloke.”

Muscat has fond memories of his time at Ibrox and revealed McKay phoned him for advice over the move.

“Well he never exactly phoned me but I imagined a call from him and what I would have said, which was to literally walk to Ibrox right away. These chances don’t come along too often, especially for the Australian Pele like McKay. He’ll LOVE it at Ibrox”

Muscatt then laughed as he remembered his old pal doing impressions of various Aussie soap stars.

“He did a brilliant Lizzie from Cell Block H but the crowning glory was Fisher from Home & Away and Madge Ramsay from Neighbours. His Nell Mangle wasn’t so hot though, he never got the look right. He kept us going during International week I can tell you mate.”

We contacted McKay at home and he confirmed talks were ongoing with the Ibrox club. He also called Kevin Muscat a “lying hacking thug with one brain cell”.

LENNY MUST FACE THE TRUTH AND PACK UP NOW by Foggy Rosyth

What is it about this man that causes them to vault the barriers at football grounds and attack him?

Never before has this happened at a football ground anywhere in the world so in that respect Lennon is unique. The incident at Tynecastle begs the question: does he bring it on himself?

To answer this we simply must bring up the name of Martin O’Neill, simply because he is another Irish Catholic who was involved with Celtic, and didn’t receive bombs, bullets or indeed death threats.

So it simply must be down to Lennon. Is it the snarling face, which reminds you of great Protestant achievers of the past paradoxically, which causes normally sane people to lose their minds for a second?

Or was it his disgraceful behaviour at Parkhead on March 2^nd, when he had to be restrained after brutally flooring Ally McCoist with a vicious head butt?

One can also think back to Tynecastle in November when he became the first manager to shout at a referee. One can only wonder what was said but the abuse was so bad that he was sent to the stand. It is not beyond the realms of possibility that Wednesday’s attacker was kicked and punched by the Celtic boss as he made his way to his seat.

And, let’s not forget, on the day that an attempt was made on his life in the shape of an explosive package, he put his hands to his ears in what can only be described as an act of war and one which should have seen him in the dock – or the stocks.

Lennon can point to the fact he is an Irish Catholic. That, despite my best efforts, cannot be disputed or denied. But he doesn’t help himself when he wears a tracksuit on the touchline and openly shouts instructions to players in that Irish drawl that really grates, like fingers down a blackboard.

Really, you would come to the conclusion that any manager called Neil Lennon, a situation like this, should pack up and go.

Go home.

KAYAL IN QUIT STORM by Waddelly Gordon

Beram Kayal yesterday dodged all questions on his new contract the way he dodges responsibility on the field of play.

Asked a straight question about the possibility of him signing a new deal the Israeli midfielder bluntly blanked the assembled reporters.

“I will be signing a new contact this week and couldn’t be happier” growled the 23 year old.

Punching a junior photographer the playmaker continued: “Celtic ishe team for me, I’ve negotiated a 10 year extension to my current deal and I’m looking forward to the season. Wait a second, that’s my estate agent on the phone about the new house I’m buying in Glasgow”

Kayal knows the support will be devastated after the loss to Sion on Thursday and wishes he could do something to help but his football will be played elsewhere after Wednesday, possibly Bolton.

Baring his arse to the room in a provocative gesture the departing star said evasively: “Now I can concentrate fully on playing for the club I love you will see the best of Beram Kayal. Hold on that’s a text from the company that’s moving all my extended family over into houses I’ve bought for them all over Scotland. Excellent, they’re arriving this week. You must excuse me”

It is another dagger through the black hearts of the IRA support that will struggle to comprehend their club selling yet another asset whilst arch rivals Rangers sweep the boards this season.