I've been fannying about with old blogs I never meant to publish and likening them to Oasis' B-Side album 'The Masterplan' when I should in fact be writing something for the Mass Hibsteria League Cup Final Special.
I've no idea why the powers that be allow me to do this because all my writing to date has been a random collection of pish that I continue to force upon friends, family and a small circle of Hibs fans I've never met but befriended on social media anyway. The poor bastards probably wish that Hibs don't make a Cup Final because they know as soon as the Semi-Final whistle is blown and the Cup Final Special is announced, I'll be keener than Adam Johnson with a fans phone number and a signed shirt.
If nothing else tonight's wee flurry of activity might have actually forced me to get the finger oot and get writing. I've been trying to get something, anything down on paper for a few weeks now but various other things have gotten in the way; basically everything that doesn't include writing. Hey, look, a squirrel.
For everyone else submitting an article there are 96 hours (give or take) until submissions are due which in reality is 24 for me because I'm at the Hibs game on Wednesday night and fly out to Berlin on Thursday morning for my stag do so if I don't do it now then there'll be no appearance of the Clown Prince in your MHLCFS .
There's a teeny-weeny part of me that thinks "fuck it, dinnae bother because the last time Hibs were in the League Cup Final you weren't in Mass Hibsteria either" and I'm really superstitious about not doing anything to harm Hibs chances which in itself is a powerful incentive to re-insert my index finger back up my rectum.
The other selfish (so, so selfish) part of me thinks "You could be in Mass Hibsteria when Hibs win the cup in the same year you get married" which is the same bastard that said "You could be in Mass Hibsteria when Hibs beat Hearts to lift the Scottish Cup" and we all know how that worked out.
I've spent as long thinking as it's taken me to realise that absolutely nothing I do will impact on the outcome of a Hibs game. Not the music I hear, the route I walk to the ground, the 'lucky' green socks I wear or the programmes that I refuse to buy because a Hibs losing run ended when I stopped buying them and haven't bought since.
The only thing that will matter is that a good Hibs team takes the field on Sunday 13 March 2016 and plays full tilt, baws oot, Cup Final fitba. If Hibs can do that then we're all going back to Leith, baby!
'Mon the fucking Cabbage!!!
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