dundeebarry

Dundee have Dundee'd the f**k out this situation. Which, as ever, is as commendable as it is entertaining. I reckon he changed his mind because Nelms offered him a wardrobe filled with the highly stylish and fetching cardigans Oor Neil was rocking on match days. Money talks, but cardigans fucking shout.

This is up there with ideas such as fielding a hologram Albert Kidd in games against Hearts and bringing back Caballero.

Be interesting to see what physical approach McCann takes, also. Will he be a dugout-leaner or a technical area patroller?He may even choose to run the show from the tv gantry, as that's where he's most used to watching the match from.

Sounds like a title for a sitcom. Hartley moping about being shite at stuff, everything going wrong. Burning the toast, stubbing his toe, slipping on a banana skin. He doesn't talk, he just becomes increasingly miserable until it finishes with a close-up of his pus for one final weary sigh and slump of the shoulders. A jingly theme tune comes on as the end credits roll. Poor Paul.

His attitude is no doubt at the heart of it. For whatever reason, he gives less of a f**k and it shows. Which is a real shame, because he has been and still can be a brilliant goalie. Speaking of goalies, my wee brother works for an oil company up in Aberdeen. He text me during the week to say Jim Leighton was in his work selling lifeboats. Jim Leighton is a lifeboat salesman. Apparently he still greases his napper with Vaseline, tae. Seems unnecessary to me, but maybe sweat still threatens one's eyes when you sell fucking boats for a living. I text him back saying I might enjoy receiving a lifeboat as a present. I eagerly anticipate my next birthday.

This is a little controversial, but Bain has conceded goals that have made me consider the possibility he's purposefully not trying as hard as he might. Like he did enough to make an effort to make a save but didn't go 100% at it. It is most likely wildly misplaced and inaccurate, but my gut feeling has suggested there's something amiss with him.

Controversial as it may be, I'm of the opinion Jim McLean is the man to step in and sort shit out at Dens. 107 years old and demented as he may be, the baldy f**k has pedigree. Decent player in his day, tae. If he steps in as player/manger him and Gowser would form a formidable midfield.

I have the basis of a special edition update to the Leigh Griffiths Blog in my head already, should the situation take a turn for the Jocky. I'm good to go here, Twinkle. I'm just waiting on word from Davie Nelms, or whatever the American c**t's called, before getting tore in.

Jocky's sitting by the phone waiting for the call. He's dinghying bank holiday Monday at the Fairmuir just in case. That's a mental night at the clubbie, tae.

Did Swampy and xbl ever return under the guise of new usernames? Last time I was around regularly they were banned. I daresay the forum misses them to varying degrees.

There was two queues, you and I were in opposite aines. I was blethering to a guy I ken who I think posts on here as Wattie Rojas. Good c**t. You looked as sparkled as I felt so I refrained from an immediate greeting and played it cool with a #Ching reference in passing. I'd like to hear the full story from ChineseMan. I won't sleep if it transpires I bumped him out his rightful place in the peh queue.

Pretty sure I maintained a degree of peh queue etiquette despite being buckled. If I didn't then I can only apologise wholeheartedly, ChineseMan. I'd have bought your peh had i known I'd acted poorly.

Delighted to see you, Matty. Took the sting out of missing the third goal as we waited in the peh queue. #thechingertakesitall

Spot on. Paul McGowan is the kind of guy who ignores playing the missions in Grand Theft Auto in favour of running up a 5 star wanted level and seeing how many pigs he can kill in a death-or-glory rampage. He's spent the summer sitting cross-legged in front of the telly, in his Dundee strip, gripping the control pad like it's a copper's throat and yodeling to himself as he explodes things on the screen before him. Boys like Gowser don't need pre-season training, he is good to go at all times. I'd be delighted to see him capped for Scotland. Whilst wearing his tag.

Well said, man. I'm acquainted with some DCT journalists. Good c***s to a man, and the majority of them Dundee boys as much as you and I are. I can only imagine they would heartily disagree, and be pissed right off with, the kind of output the paper has produced here. The Derry at Dens is one of the last bastions of old school Scottish football enclosures. It is loud. It is rumbustious. It has loads of c***s jumping about getting right into, and indeed creating, the atmosphere at the match. Long may that continue. I wouldn't change it for the world. Nae danger it's sectarian or in any way out of control, though. Yes, the odd banger will lose the plot and act daft. Yes, the odd banger will shout or do something no c**t else in the area likes or agrees with. Such is life as a supporter of any team. I've spent more than enough time in the Derry to know it's heart is true. My parents have been season ticket holders there for years innumerable, and trust me when I say my old dear would be the first to abdicate to the Main Stand should shit get out of control in our beloved South Enclosure. The Derry fuckin' rules. This is as good a time as any to link you up to an article I wrote on the mighty Dees for The Long Ball website recently. Shameless plug ahoy

Think I may have changed numbers since we last spoke, mate. Just followed you on Twitter so will keep an eye on the situation and communicate that way. Do you go south of the river first or toward the end of the crawl?

What are your pub stops in the Partick/West End area? Might have plans on Saturday but I'll try and get out for a couple of pints when you're up that way.

Drum c**t was still banging away when I left at 5pm. If he comes back tomorrow I'm gathering a young team from the office to run him into the Clyde. I feel I must give credit to this young schemie boy who plays banjo like he's in Deliverence. Sits there in his tracksuit scowling at every c**t as he batters out some wild yokel music. Talented wee toe-rag. Doesn't use an amp, which I appreciate greatly.

I think an element of quality control is required as well as volume control. A mate of mine busks down in London and I'm pretty sure he had to autition before being granted use of a pitch. I'd be perfectly happy joining the audition panel for Buchanan Street. As well as potentially instigating casting couch-style scenarios documented in pornographic films it would allow me to exercise my right to choose who sings in my ear all day. And it won't be c***s playing drumkits, that's for sure. Take them all round to George Square and have a Busker Royal Rumble. Either that or use it as an opportunity to turn the hoses on them all simultaneously.

Buskers. I work in an office on Buchanan Street. Over the course of the working week I'm subjected to the following: Some c**t dressed as Slash playing Guns 'n' Roses riffs for three hours at a time. Some old goat calling himself the "Bowie & Bolan Busker" playing the same couple of tunes by the aforementioned 70s superstars. Badly. Whinging youngsters playing their maudlin tales of woe on acoustic guitars. Pipers. I quite like the sound of the pipes, but not for extended periods. Like all day fucking long. A saxophonist who I will slaughter like a hog if he doesn't up his game from ceaseless jazz noodlings to a proper fucking tune. Just when I thought it couldn't get much worse the soundtrack to Monday morning has been some joker playing a full fucking drumkit. That's a man, in the street, playing a fucking drumkit. The guitarists are all rocking mics and amps these days, too. Not content with bursting the heads of passers-by they're now doing it to anyone in a quarter mile radius. It's messing with my mellow something awful. I'm a big music lover but this shit's getting out of hand. I want people banned, and possibly beaten up. Regulate the decibel level these c***s are cranking out. Ban amplification. No more than two renditions of Sweet Child o' Mine per day (fuckin' Slash. I liked him for about 20 minutes first time I heard him out there. Now I feel it's only a matter of time before I end up suplexing the c**t through a shop window.) I've often mocked human statues who paint themselves bronze or silver from head to toe and stand there quite bizarrely expecting to be handed loose change for it, but at least those lads go about their ridiculous fucking business quietly.

@dundeebarry

I tried it once in Bangkok. It believe it's mass-produced in Laos/Vietnam and is very popular in certain circles in South East Asia. I met a lassie in a nightclub and ended up back at her place in the middle of the ghetto. The girl, who was a total stunner with a body you'd kill family pets for, poured some drinks and asked if I wanted to get high. As someone who's not unfamiliar with the concept I said I did, and she pulls out a bag of crystals and a glass pipe. She took the first hit, then loaded the pipe for me to fire in about it. I took my first hit whilst getting a blowjob off this gorgeous half-naked Thai girl. Rock 'n' roll stuff for sure. The hit was heavy, made me wired and sharp as f**k. I liked it. A few more blasts and I was ripped to the tits. A short while after I was kicking back on her bed with her straddling me. She says, "You know about me, right?" I was honking away on the pipe, and inbetween sooks went, "Eh?" She hitches her dress up, pulls her thong to one side, and sweet Davie Narey oot flops her boaby. What to do? Get angry? Get violent? Run like the wind? I thought about it for a few seconds and took another blast of the pipe. f**k it. When you find yourself in these situations you're as well seeing them through to the end. We were up all night getting wrecked and having as interesting a conversation as I've ever had. Boy was sound. Some fucking tits on him. I left at 9am on the back of her pal's moped and weaved through the Bangkok rush hour right off my chops, high on meth and the still-fresh memories of a highly exotic (or sordid, whatever) evening. I've taken many journeys on many modes of transportation and that's definitely my most memorable. Good times indeed. As to whether it, along with weed and any other drugs should be legal, well yeah, why not. Legalise them, regulate them, and if adults want to take them then that's their choice. They'll do it whether it's legal or not regardless. Protip: If you ever find yourself getting funky with a hot girl in Bangkok, make sure you take her dress all the way off and not just leave it wrapped round her waist before she starts giving you head. Stay safe, kids.

Fine work, sir.

Unfortunately I won't be able to come through for this as I'm hosting a visitor from out of town in Dundee. If you organise the P&B Wheelchair Race (Glasgow) I'll sponsor it by sending a load of 'dundeebarry' stickers to put on the wheelchairs and enough cash to buy the winner not only a pint, but a packet of Scampi Fries to facilitate any 'smell yer maw' jokes heading Smurph's way. Good luck, Glasgow. May the farce be with you.

A tentative "in" for now. I'll have to wait and see what I've got on closer to the time before confirming anything.