European Championship Qualifiers
Scotland	1	0	France
Caldwell
Ukraine	2	0	Scotland

Ma theme this month is “French” fer reasons which will be obvious tae even the most “stupide” (that means “fuggin stupid” byraway) of you.

Ah huv always been a great admirer o’ all things French, even fae a very young age. Apart fae thur food of course. Thur food is pure boggin’. And thur Pop Music is shite an aw. But ah digress.

Ah remember ma very first French Kiss. Ah wis nine years auld and it wis administered by Euphemia McSorley whae wis in Primary Six and wis two years ma senior and wore a bra and everything.

Of course, ah didnae realise it wis a French Kiss at the time. Ah just thought she wis tryin tae use hur tongue as an instrument tae steal the boiled sweetie ah wis sookin at the time.

Ah think it wis a Soor Ploom, but it might huv been a Fruit Drop. It wis a long time ago and such details are a wee bittie hazy,

Needless tae say, though, after ah prised hur aff ma face, ah telt hur in nae uncertain terms tae get hur ain bloody sweeties and keep well away fae ma mooth in future. And sure enuff she nivver tried it again.

A few years later when a wis aboot 13, and just startin oot on the road tae bein a Love God, ma pal Shuggie asked us if ah hud ever hud sex usin a French Letter.

“Of course ah fuggin huv!” ah replied, no wishin tae appear ignorant. The truth wis, ah hud absolutely nae idea whit he wis talkin aboot but just tae see whit the fuss wis aw aboot ah went hame that night and hud a wank ower a Postcard ma Uncle hud sent me fae Paris, as that wis the closest thing tae a French letter that ah could find.

It wis a picture of the Eiffel Tower too. Ah huv never been able tae look at the Eiffel Tower since withoot a wee frisson of sexual excitement racing through ma loins.

Ma love affair with all things Francais continued in adulthood when ah became the secret lover of Bridget Bardot and ah’ll sue any basturd whae accuses me of making it up.

Most recently, of course, I became the only Scotland Manager in the history of the world to take Scotland to a World Cup Finals in France where my management style is still admired to this day almost as much as my legendary sexual prowess.

So, with all of that in mind, ah just had a sneaky feeling that a result at Hampden in the match with France wis on the cards.

And sure enuff, ah scored just before half-time wi’ a petite wee floozy fae Bordeaux.

Chivalry prevents me fae goin intae details of whit la jeune madamoiselle and I got up tae in the Executive Lavvies of the South Stand at half-time, but suffice tae say “Ooh La Fuggin La!!”

As fer Scotland actually beatin France at fitba, Mon Dieu, that wis sumthin ah could never huv predicted.

A crackin day all round then.

Whit a cryin shame yon cheatin basturd Shevchenko hud tae spoil it a few days later.

£30 million pounds worth of cheatin basturd tae be precise. It’s somehow humbling tae know that even with the burden of a massive price-tag like that round his neck, and even with all his talent, he’s still enuff in touch wi the common people tae resort tae blatant cheating. A splendid role model for all up and coming Ukranian cheats.

Honestly. Ah huvnae seen divin quite that impressive since the days when ah used tae go doon oan Brigitte Bardot in oor secret love nest in St Tropez.

Ah bloody well did, ah tell ye.

Et j’etait magnifique, byraway.