Ireland isnae calling

Date: 24th June 2022

Our second weekly blog provided to you by Donald.

Ireland isnae calling

It is early morning at the Livingston Lions Holiday Camp and trouble has been brewing down at The Big Levein’s caravan – number 1-4-6-0.

Picture the scene…

In tartan baffies and a mauve cravat tied above a faintly worrying maroon pyjama featuring little hearts all over it, The Big Levein is looking agitated at the door of his caravan. He is pontificating loud, and he is remonstrating clearly.

Somebody has woken him up and rather than keep the experience to himself, he is now seeking to spread the misery around the site. T’was ever thus, thinks Mr. Martindale as he makes his way to relieve Mr. Maley who has spent the last 15 minutes, his golden 15 minutes, trying to calm The Big Levein down.

“What’s the rumpus here?” asks Mr. Martindale.

Before Mr. Maley could speak and explain in a reasonable manner, The Big Levein was quick to explain at the top of his voice.

“Rumpus? Rumpus, is it? Let me tell you what the rumpus is all about. That Mr. McGinn has been up all night battering something against the side of my caravan, that’s what the so called rumpus is all about!”

At that point a rather shame faced Mr. McGinn appears just at the corner of the next caravan to admit his crime.

Both Mr. Martindale and Mr. Maley turn in unison to contemplate the source of The Big Levein’s consternation.

“Don’t blame me, I am just daien what I was tellt!” he blurts out in explanation. His face, however, tells the story of somebody who knew he had done something wrong.

“Who told you to batter something against this caravan?” asks Mr. Martindale in what he thought was a reasonable manner.

Mr. McGinn looks at the floor and mutters under his breath. “The gaffer told me that after Dublin I couldnae hit a barn door wi a stick, so I was just proving him wrang.” He explains meekly.

Mr. Martindale understands. Mr. Malley would have understood, had he still been there but he had used up his 15 minutes of fame and was now gone.

The Big Levein begins to understand. It sometimes took a wee while for sense to levitate that far up.

Eventually it got all the way up as he muttered menacingly, “Clarke.”

Everyone realised now that The Big Levein’s nemesis, Mr. Clarke had suggested to one of his charges, a man in his temporary care, that he needed a bit more practice and it would be good to try and get that by annoying the one person who had had a few harsh words for him over the last few weeks.

Mr. Martindale liked the simplicity of it. The Big Levein loathed the effectiveness of it. Mr. McGinn was still trying to make up his mind – something he was guilty of in Dublin.

Mr. Martindale was intrigued. “Mr. McGinn, did he specifically say to try against this caravan?” he asks.

“No exactly,” explaines Mr. McGinn. “He said that any caravan in maroon would do but try and pick oan the weeist wan.”

In all the park, there were a number of maroon caravans. The Big Levein’s was one of the smallest. So, by potluck, Mr. McGinn had hit Mr. Clarke’s bullseye.

In a small tartan caravan, some distance away, a certain Mr. Clarke was sound asleep fully aware of the goings on. He had been slightly more precise than Mr. McGinn was admitting to, but he knew that Mr. McGinn was feeling guilty for mistakes in their outing in Dublin so would not  totally admit the whole plan.

And whilst he slept, the Big Levein seethed, vowed revenge and dismissed both Mr. Martindale and Mr. McGinn before lifting his phone to text his compatriot, for the summer, Mr. Miller of Aberdeen. His text had one simple message…

“No more Mr. Nice Guy… This is war…”

 

Whilst the author asserts his right to this as an original tale, there is still no evidence that Craig Levein has maroon jammies, unless you know differently, so this is clearly a work of fiction.

The fact is that a dismal performance by the Scottish National Team included John McGinn continuing a trend he started against Ukraine of not being able to hit the target with his shots… Further target practice appeared to be in keeping with a hope to return to the type of form that saw Mr. McGinn to be a reliable member of Steve Clarke’s team.


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