Sandman’s Definitive Ratings – The Bunnet appeared, dispelled the evil spirits, as he did 25 years ago


“A secret of mine untold in ye tales of our time was the truth of the witches, warlocks, ungodly horrors and fornicating wraiths poor Tam O’Shanter encountered at ye old Alloway cemetery. They were simply Killie folk on a night out in auld Ayr.”

Rabbie Burns, ‘Deathbed Confessions’.

THE WALL – 7.5/10

“The Wall, The Wall, He saves the fecking ball!”. I just made that up there – Bernie Taupin, eat yer heart out. Greg Aitken, tug yer forelock out, tragic honey. Was the big fella a bit culpable for the opener? Jury’s out, but the penalty save down to his right like a falling redwood in time-lapse photography that gave the MIB’s blue balls was worth every earlier rumination.

BAUER – 6.5/10

Look at that hair! No wonder he’s made a fortune from his multinational corporation punting men’s grooming products. When Stuart Armstrong takes his daily trip to the Vidal Sassoon salon in London’s Bond St, there’s no need to use his unintelligible posh Scots accent – he just simply hands them a photo of Bauer and says, ‘This’.
‘Feed the Bauer’ the GB sang, maybe ‘Feed the Hair’ fits better. And it looks like he can also play a bit. Delightful pass for Eddy’s second, has an air of I’m-European-And-Your-League-Is-Pish-Therefore-I’m-Going-To-Show-You-Neandethals-Some-Sohphistication.

Or maybe it was just the hair. Promising full debut.


Tested a bit by pacy frontman, giving him enough uncomfortable moments to warrant focussing on his job at hand rather than reading the Sunday L’Equippe as he is wont to do. Took an espresso and a call from Ironside to shake his ennui and engage Killie with his formidable presence. Worrying knock late in the match gives cause for concern at time of writing.

IRONSIDE – 6.5/10

Odin and Thor appeased, Son of Ragnar shook off his trials of Francia and returned to Valhalla with his usual purpose, if not quite rampaging effectiveness. Spent most of the game on guard against their well co-ordinated breaks, seemed secure enough. Opening goal was a bit of a clusterfeck defensively overall, nobody particularly blameless or culpable.


Baws of steel! Recovering from Thursday’s sex-injury (or ‘groin-strain’ as the medical professionals cheekily nickname it…) he was up and at it again like a priapic rabbit, foraging for success up and down the left flank, providing a beauty of a cross for the third. Like I said previously, bhoys working his baws off – factually – for the cause and the balance of data is overwhelmingly positive in his statistical favour.

Energised anti-hero in the making.

BROON – 7/10

Penalised because… Because he’s Broon. Challenge for their gift was innocuous, never illegal, took the ball. Captain got marked for sacrificial rites by ludge felchers. Last laugh as usual to the Mean Machine. More incomparable mental toughness driving the team back from Tangerine heaven to a deserved victory.

CALMAC – 7/10

The Unrestable continues to require longevity to find his groove; not a bad thing, in that once you get a metronome ticking you are loathe to stop it – same with our metro-Gnome, poncing about the park like Podgy Pirlo, guileful left peg and cuteness of passing that could be packaged and sold as kids furry, big-eyed, Christmas toys.

Got a trite sloppy late on but fatigue had got to have its moments and he was digging in to hold the fort.


So we kept him left to begin with just in case he mistook Bauer for someone else – y’know, someone that might be cute, blonde and pick up empty tumblers… A cunning ploy because it was Killie to whom Jamesy, almost literally, give the cockwobbles.

Peppered their keeper, peppered their defenders who resorted to playing backie-inner and nearest-netter and swatting Jamesy’s shots away with their hands; no offence in merry old Scotia; So he switched to playing provider for the mercurial Monsieur’s equalizer.

Jamesy can do anything, heiders too, foiled by his Bete Noire Dimanche in nets only for the Son Of Man to miracle in the rebound for the third and press the JHOY button on mission accomplished, after it had loomed Mission Impossible; Jamesy was Tom Cruise. Who also memorably had his part in a Cocktail too…

SAM JACKSON – 6.5/10

God-damn! Muthuf**ka on from Genesis and still we can’t get old testamaent on their ass. This Day Of The Muthuf**ka was turning into a Muthuf**ka Of A Day as this Muthuf**ka grew more and more confused at the un-righteous shenanigans of the Bam In Black; an’ it looked like some Muthuf**ka was goin to get Flock Of

Couldn’t dictate like a Muthuf**ka as promising attacks broke down around him, but class tells, muthuf**kas – tested their keeper early second-half, kept his muthuf**kin’ head in the game, got the GOD-DAMN JOB Muthuf**kin’ DONE!

And retired like a satisfied Muthu-f**ka.


Picked up from Thursday and tormented them. Tormented the funny hand-shaking goat-porn hoarder too, who booked him for what is considered simulation if you are ‘on the square’ and feeling a little tumescence after waving away Celtic stonewall penalty claims.

Energy levels looked to dip intermittently, understandably, as we tried to kill the game as quickly as possible. But his deliveries were excellent and he Holy Ghosted in to steal the third with his divine crotch and win the day for the forces of light.

FRENCH EDDY – 7.5/10

“Pah! I speet on your ‘Unnns and theese peeshy free-massssonerrie,” shrugged Eddy as he stuck in two with contemptuous indifference and flicked his chin at the greetin’ ref. Class in a glass of liquid mercury, running the line, lethal and languid. Appears out of nowhere carrying a bottle of chilled Buckie just as you’re wondering if he’s
going to show up to the party.

Bhoys a Skelping Parisien Serpent-Killer who’ll drown us all in a deluge of glee before departing for distant shores, leaving us a a pile of gold dubloons to make Smaug envious. Enjoy him, that timing and instinct. On-point this afternoon to wrastle a game threatening to bolt from us.


HAYES – 6/10

Parachuting in from the shores of Normandy, 70 years since last time we saw him, returning to hear his tune, and cameo through the last fifteen. No need for repeat of his dragon-slaying tackle of Thursday; just needed to remain tidy and solid. Which is required daily in the trenches of the Somme anyway.


Rest day for our surprise package – not you, Jamesy – was interrupted as he saw through the final minutes.


Big Oz ambled on, ref blew final whistle, Big Oz ambled off, pretty much.

LENNONY – 8/10

Phew. Confused many with the formation – using the Muthuf**ka to penetrate their lines and playing Son Of Man wide. Maybe didn’t work out. Mutuhf**ka is a great number ten when there’s more space against teams prepared to open up – witness his contribution at the Citadel of Dunts that Beautiful Sunday past; Corpus more effective when you’re trying to prise apart tin-cans like Killie.

Still, Lennony knows talent is talent and his faith in ours paid off after a scare. He also knows the Luddge played a joker today and vented his ire at the loyalist gimp determined to undermine the Bhoys travails. Keep calm, Lennony – if they can’t halt the mighty Hoops on the park, they’ll go for you as a secondary tactic.

All-in, he must be pleased with the past four days outcome, and deservedly so – different tests, well handled.


No Euro hangover myths – the Bhoys maintained a level of performance good enough to wipe SPL dross away. Trouble today was Killie having the Euro influence of their own calling the shots which made them slightly more expansive and dangerous on the counter. And of course the self-appointed centre of attention who always seems
to slip upon us un-noticed, like a Rohypnol-toting perv in the night, the ubiquitous MIB.

To the Bhoys enormous credit they managed to overcome adversity and rebound to win in spite of witchcraft. The Bunnet appeared at half-time and as he did 25 years ago, dispelled the evil spirits with some unintelligible but Gandalf-esque proclamations.

Wee saviour inspired a satisfying win; the players get enormous credit for following up Rennes with a battling win against a side who look like they may be getting their act together under an enterprising foreign coach.

Tricky match negotiated with quality. How many of your teams have we put away now, SFA/SPFL Bunns, how many in a row?

Tell them, Joker…

32 to go. 32 to The NINE

Go Away Now.



Delighted Lenny’s getting everything he’s asked for from Hoops stars…see HERE.

Fergus back for Paradise Windfall as Celtic make it six wins from six…see HERE.

About Author

The Celtic Star founder and editor, who has edited numerous Celtic books over the past decade or so including several from Lisbon Lions, Willie Wallace, Tommy Gemmell and Jim Craig. Earliest Celtic memories include a win over East Fife at Celtic Park and the 4-1 League Cup loss to Partick Thistle as a 6 year old. Best game? Easy 4-2, 1979 when Ten Men Won the League. Email

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