Following the news that club legend Ally McCoist will be installed as Gers gaffer in the summer, replacing current scowly-faced incumbent Walter Smith, the Cutter duly trekked up to Glasgow yesterday to find out what lay in store for the famous club.
We secured an exclusive interview with McCoist – over a ‘few scoops’ naturally – and the ‘Dudemeister’ (as he insisted on being called) revealed to us his rather unorthodox blueprint for long-term success.
‘We have to become the top dogs of this city again and therein, by default, the whole EPL. It won’t be easy that’s for sure, so we’ll have to party hard and sleep with many different women along the way’.
The Cutter interjected at this point but it appears that we did indeed hear him correctly.
‘We aim to make several key signings during the summer months, mainly busty blonde secretaries for the admin department who I have personally scouted and vetted thoroughly. The personnel we have at present are friendly and can type up a storm, but they’re ‘five-pinters’ at best. And you don’t win trophies with five-pinters.’
‘We’re also having a lap dancing pole installed in the player’s bar. You have to consider the player’s emotional wellbeing, not just their physical fitness. I learnt that under Souness’.
And what of tactics, we asked.
‘Well you always want two big ‘uns up front and a bit of creativity in the hole’.
McCoist, who spent some time working in the media, mainly feigning hilarity to anything humdrum that occurred on A Question of Sport, before returning to his first love of football, is determined to bring the fun back to the game.
‘It’s all so serious these days. Where have all the characters gone? The bubbly in the bath? The hookers? I’ve told the lads to think of me as the Rodney Dangerfield character in 80’s classic gag-fest Back To School. Ibrox is going to be the wackiest campus around! And there’s going to be pranks galore. We plan to kidnap the Celtic mascot – it’s a priest isn’t it? – and poor old Dioufy is going to be pinned down and farted on until he admits to having such appalling fashion sense.’
With that the Dudemeister creased up into an uncontrollable fit of laughter as if John Parrott himself had said something mildly amusing.
After drying his eyes the ex-goal-machine added,
‘This club’s going to be party central and I’m the party host. I’m even thinking of learning the guitar so I can belt out a few Queen solos at half-time. As for the player’s diets, the only time I want to hear the word ‘pasta’ is when one of our Italian boys says ‘It’s well pasta my bedtime’’.
This prompted another burst of eye-watering chortling that lasted until the Cutter reached the door.