RST: ARTUR BORUC’S INSANE ACTIONS

April 30, 2008 - Daily Hun Newsdesk

david edgar rst Daffyd Edgar has his say on the Boruc t-shirt storm.

Dear members of the RST, after reading my own personal account of the horrific events involving the foreigner Boruc last Saturday, I would urge you to exercise your customary self control and not seek retribution against those unfortunate to have been born Roman Catholics, after all it is hardly their fault that they were born. Once again, let our watchword be dignity!

Let me give you my own very personal anecdotal account of events last Sunday as it may assist you in putting the traumatizing events into some sort of context.

I rose at my customary hour at seven o’clock on the Lord’s day. I made my way to the bathroom and took my daily cold shower. It has been my experience that cleanliness is close to Godliness, cleansing one’s body and soul of all impure thoughts.

Breakfast was a dull affair, a slightly hard boiled egg,some toast with mushy butter washed down with lukewarm tea. Since my wife Wilma and I went our separate ways, well it hasn’t been easy……

My culinary skills may not be great but my sartorial elegance hasn’t suffered since Wilma ran off with Mr O’ Donohue the milkman. Even if I do say so myself, I cut an impressive figure as I gaze into the mirror. The dark shiny nylon suit contrasts well with my pale skin, though Mr McMillan who sold me the suit said something about not wearing it if the temperature got above 15 degrees, something to do with body odour…very strange. The brown brogues however add that final ‘je ne sais quoi’ as they say in Pamplona.

I refuse to go to Celtic Park, I simply refuse to put money into the coffers of a club which openly encourages terrorism. So as always on such days I make my way to the club, stopping on the way at the newsagent (A true Scotsman you’ll be proud to hear!) to purchase my copies of the Sunday Post and British Bulldog.

The club from outside is well…..dignified……the facade displays several banners and flags which seem to embody everything we stand for; the Union Jack, The Red hand of Ulster, a swastika and a charming banner expressing the hope that all those of Irish extraction should; ” Go Home, the famine is over!” It’s at moments like this you realize what it is to be a Rangers supporter.

At the entrance I am met by old John the doorman, and ‘Findlay’ the club goat who looks really tempting and seductive in his orange sash. After giving each other the customary handshake and exchanging trouser legs, I enter the main lounge.

The game is a farce, there is no level playing field and I am not referring to the deplorable state of the surface, but the conspiratorial actions of match officials. Their surnames betray their alliances. Our players are systematically kicked, abused and beaten into submission. And all of this played in an atmosphere which is inTIMidating and murderous. As the game proceeds my knuckles go white, my blood pressure begins to rise, my heart begins to pimp, my chest begins to tighten, my suit begins to emit a strange whiff……

And then it happens, Boruc the foreigner reveals his true colours. I cannot speak, I feel a strange sensation one of utter hatred for this large foreign body. My first instinct is anger and violence, then my Presbyterian discipline kicks in as they say in America, and I see Boruc for what he is. A very simple Catholic peasant who is attempting to wind up a superior people. It’s on days like this that I fully understand why Adolf Hitler decided to invade Poland in 1939!

After the game I urge restraint as some of the more unreasonable members contemplate hanging a few Catholics, fortunately common sense prevails and we agree just to burn down the nearest Catholic church.

Then as usual I get a few phone calls from some prominent journalists who ask me for my thoughts on the game;

” Darryl/Darren, just write down what I say and stick it in your match report”.

Exhausted but dignified I make my way home accompanied only by an apprehensive looking ” Findlay’. It’s been a long day.