Paw Broon - It's all doon the hill fae here

Noo, ah ken whit ye’re thinkin’. Ye’re thinkin’ “fuckssakes Paw, whit took ye so long? The Germany game wis weeks ago. Whit’s aw the delay been aboot?”

Well, let’s get one thing clear straight frae the off. It wisnae ma fault.

It wis they basturds at FirstFoot whit caused me tae take so long, and ah’ll tell ye why.

See, they said tae us just efter the game finished, “Paw, see in yer next diary piece aboot the Germans? We bet ye cannae resist the temptation tae mention the war”.

“How much?” ah says.

“£10” they says. How could ah resist the challenge?

An’ that’s been the problem. Ah huv tried and tried, and tried again, but AH JUST CANNAE DAE IT!!

So, noo that ah huv accepted defeat gracefully, ah might as well get ma money’s worth.

See U-Boat’s?

They didnae “Dive, Dive, Dive!!” half as much as these cheatin German basturds.

See that blonde, blue-eyed tosser Tobias Rau? The cunt fell writhing tae the ground as if shot by a Stalingrad sniper’s bullet every time anybody in a blue jersey came close.

Mind, at least the Germans didnae cheat in Stalingrad. If they went doon, they stayed doon, enday story.

No the Uber-Cheater Rau though. Doon he went, then up he got. Doon then up. Up and doon mair often than a Messerschmidt 109 on defensive duty ower Dresden.

The boy’s a Fokker, that’s fer sure.

Tae be absolutely fair, on chances created alone, Germany probably deserved tae win the match, but the manner in which it wis achieved leaves a foul taste in the mooth and an awfy stench up the nose, even worse than a steamin’ bowl o’ boiled sauerkraut mit schweinpenis.

Ye huv tae say, their attitude stinks. And chief stinker amongst them by far was Herr Rau, whose theatrics culminated in the laughable 67th minute sending off of Maurice Ross, just when Scotland looked like clawin’ their way back intae the game.

“Rau”. In spite of only huvvin three letters, it’s such a quintessentially German name, d’ye no think? “Rau”, as in Frau, or Kraut, or Eva Braun.

Ah huv never (publicly, at least) condoned violence on the football field, but fer this wee sausage-eating shite ah will gladly make an exception. Ah look forward wi’ relish tae seeing this smug little cheat get his skinny blonde arse kicked tae kingdom come, preferably when the referee is looking the other way, during the finals in Portugal.

With luck, and a good result in our final qualifier against Lithuania, who knows? It might even be Maurice Ross who gets to deliver said kicking.

It wid be the biggest piece of international justice ever administered since Nuremberg.

And fer that, ah wid gladly walk tae Portugal.

Withoot the aid of jackboots, ah might add.