In 1745, we were defeated on the bloody fields of Culloden (pictured left). They took away our land. They took away our bagpipes. We got very drunk, passed out behind the pub, and woke up in a pool of our own pish. But Tuesday night, we of the proud Scottish Nation had our revenge at Glasgow's Celtic Park. In thrilling UEFA Champions League action, Celtic FC drove the over-paid, over-rated Manchester United Red Devils from the field in the obliterating 1-nil victory of the millenium.
With a spectacular bending 30-yard free kick goal by a Scotsman named Nakamura (it's an old Highland name), the men in stripey green turned the football universe on its head. But wait! An English foe is never so easily conquered. The conniving ref cooked up a bogus handball call, handing a penalty kick to the Prince-Charles-loving, Wham-listening boys in red. But gaelic righteousness once again prevailed, with a heroic save by another pure-bred son of Scotland, goalkeeper Artur Boruc.
The Celtic victory is already being called a turning point in the great hangover that is Scottish history. The redcoats were replaced with red AIG logo shirts and the Scotsmen wore pants, but it was yet another battle in the long war against the nation of Boy George and Benny Hill. From Belfast to Basra, those that suffer under the yoke of Saxon hegemony raised their heads with new hope. So join the proud people of Glasgow, sing a song of liberty, drink 17 pints, smoke 27 cigarettes, and wake up behind the pub in a pool of your own pish. For one night, taste the bitter glory of Scottish destiny.
But we can still rise now,
And be the nation again,
That stood against him,
Proud Edward's Army,
And sent him homeward,
Tae think again.
