Back away from the words, you sweaty moon units, or I'll burst yer baw.

I'm in a fucking throbber of a mood and feel keen to share the misery. I declare today that football bores the arse off me. It's not footballs fault, it's just that it doesn't move me and that's OK. Despite this I remain tolerant, I avoid public transport when I know a match is happening so as to avoid being verbally abused and jostled for no reason. I even once wrote a stiff letter to my MSP about the Offensive Behaviour at Football Act, defending the rights of zoomers to sing any old shite they like at each other on account of free speech and that. Besides, what mad Christian sects get up to in their own playpens is none of my beeswax.

 When some mouth breather stands outside my window farting out some sectarian or boak inducing sentimental pish at 3am. I lie silently raging at the inconsiderate thundercunt for waking me up. I don't call the police or give in to my baser urge to behead the bunnyrimmer and kick his severed head into a bin on account of tolerating different lifestyles like a civilized human. Through my shining example, a world where everyone simply minds their own business will be born.

 I know I'm just a bag with holes instead of a cock and a team like a real person but is there any chance baw zoomers could try a wee bit of tolerance towards me? It irks me that folk are getting punted from The Herald on account of some sort of Rangers related moon units throwing a tantrum. Who the fuck asked Rangers to edit the Sunday Herald? I don't want to be snooty but I can't think of another way to say it: football types are a tad too ITV for broadsheet, hiring and firing. That doesn't make them bad people, my Auntie May would pass out if someone put BBC4 on in her house and she's a lovely woman but I wouldn't pick her to edit The Herald.

Reading is my thing, my sport, if you will. I don't interrupt football matches demanding everyone listen to me reading a bit of P.G Wodehouse or a particularly hooty chapter from Three Men in a Boat, so I think it only fair that football reciprocates and leaves me alone. I'm resigned to these chimpanzees being unable to use public transport quietly, all I ask is one corner of my life to be football free.

I've done nothing but avoid eye contact and mind my own business with these roasters, I've even taken action to defend their right to sing demented songs at football matches. I just like a bit of Angela Haggerty on a Sunday and given the shite I've quietly tolerated being flung at me by inconsiderate titwanks over the years I think I'd more than earned my right to read her. Any chance we can have readers editing the papers rather than thin skinned football fannybaws?

Just a few of my thoughts. Here's another FUCK ALL SPORT EXCEPT BOXING, SPEEDWAY, DOGS AND DARTS. 

Some leaves and bits I saw during a stroll today