Fu** Gordon Ramsay - GIVE US THE TEDDY BEAAAAAARS!!!

Do as I say, not as I do. The hypocrisy confessed in this brutally honest aphorism must be lost on Gordon Ramsay. By all accounts, including his own, his dad was a complete cunt. Yet Gordon followed the paternal example rather than learning from it. “TV’s most infamous chef” (cringe!) is indeed a complete cunt. And not even in the way he wants to be.

As much as he pathetically cultivates the persona, it’s not mendacity, ferocious ambition or relentless aggression which mark him out. He’s just a dick. In other words, he’s a pathetic cunt rather than a mean one. Sure, the man’s displayed some sizeable “cojones” (cringe!) to come back from his rejection as a professional goalie at Rangers to become one of the best restaurateurs in the world. Yes, he’s swapped the stars around the RFC crest for the stars in the Michelin guide books. Brilliant job. But the persona he ejaculates onto our TV screens represents the very worst indulgences of middle class male fantasies of what constitutes” a real guy”.

He’s not Rambo made real. He’s Jeremy Clarkson with an egg whisk.

He could boot my tiny cojones (cringe!) from here to the Loire valley and back - I have no doubt. It’s not his fault he’s on our telly but telly’s fault - again, no argument. But if you’re going to sell people an idea of what it takes to be as top of his pile as Ramsay is, let them see the truth. Let us see the very real results of very real bullying. Oh, sorry - we do see them: Gordon Ramsay IS the result of bullying.

And what a knob he is.

His father did fuck-all excpet pretend to be some sort of entertainer or musician while going ape on young Gordon’s nascent football career. Ramsay hated his paw for living off his child’s unrealised dreams - quite right too - but he’s now wasted the chance to properly use the higher ground he eventually found. He could be a great example - but what he says gets in the way of what he does.

David Hume, Charles Rennie MackIntosh, Alexander Graham Bell, Arab Strap, Alexander Fleming, Eddie Mair and a plethora of engineers and professional footballers: These are my Scottish heroes. Gordon Ramsay could be among them - but reducing yourself to someone who won’t stand still, gets “in your face” and says “yeah” and “fuck” so inappropriately SO OFTEN, is a tragedy.

Swearing is beautiful when done correctly. Bad language, executed well, is one of the most obvious signs of a cultured mind. But swearing at everyone, always, in a pathetically diluted regional accent - we wouldn’t want the salesmen of the Home Counties being unable to actually understand the profanity! - is just embarrassing.

Fuckwit.

I was in the midst of having my dilalectical ass branded by a Texan Ranger tonight when the official Rangers e-mail pinged into the In-box. Why, exactly, was Ibrox telling me to watch Channel 4 tonight” …? I cringed. Tonight I really did wonder if “the F word” would be Fenian. If Ramsay wants to cement his rep as TRULY offensive then why not go for it? Coz he isn’t that stupid. He isn’t that genuine. The casual racism and rampant sexism which must go on in top kitchens would horrify the producers of such low-brow telly twaddle if they were seen to be championing it. So Gordon’s swearing is as much a sign of “realism” as filling yer palms with £10Grand’s worth of caviar is “getting yer hands dirty”. If ye want to get gutteral, Gordy - if you want to TELL IT LIKE IT IS - let’s have a REALLY spicy Scottish “f” word, eh?!!

No? Didn’t think so.

Almost changed my opinion about him when he told the camera there’s no other club like us in the world but he called us “GLASGOW Rangers” (cringe) then he swore on that pitch without having earned the right do so - without wearing a jersey or studs. And having yer pro football career cut short by injury is not “tragic”. Death is tragic. One suspects that Ramsay loves his Rangers connection because he knows so many of the idiots who admire his TV persona will only know the dark, middle England Rangers stereotype - sectarianism and rioting fans. It all helps engorge his “hard man” rep. His appeal is, I’m sure, his mask of aggressive certainty.

What Gordon Ramsay doesn’t understand is that true beauty needs vulnerability. It needs doubt. The Greeks know that hubris is far more beautiful than rampant triumphalism. Happiness and total success writes white. Rangers, this Wednesday, continue to fill our hearts with drama, grace and painful joy.

A European finalist on our last UEFA outing, we find ourselves in the hubristically belittling depths of the qualifying rounds in our first continental tie since Manchester. Only four teams played in a European club final last season. We’re one of them. It’s an absolute disgrace that we’re reduced to this. It’s a disgrace for UEFA - it’s an insult to Scotland. But we always knew the situation.

The fragility and doubt necessary to the sumptuous aesthetic of last season was personified by a captain of world class skill but uncertain motivation and dressing room influence. How typical of a season I expect to be filled with leg-lagging burn-out that Barry Ferguson will miss the first few months and that Carlos Cuellar - the man who last term played more games in a single season than any player in the history of the Scottish game - will miss the first competitive game. Already things are stale.

I sense fragility. I feel doubt. But I also feel less desperation than at any other outset of a European campaign in thirty years of watching Rangers. What I must not let Kaunas know is that, having finally seen Rangers in a European final, I really can’t help feeling a little sated. We need to be in the Champions League Group stages - yes. We need to make the resultant money - absolutely. But what are all the financial worries about? - they’re about giving us enough cash to buy players, to win games, to bring glory, to enhance our reputation and spread our gospel. It’s all about getting Rangers into European finals. It always has been for me. Now that it’s happened I can’t stop feeding off it, emotionally. I can’t help it if I feel just a very big bit satisfied right now.

Sorry - I FUCKING feel just a very FUCKING big bit FUCKING satisfied right FUCKING now, YEAH??!! Fucking yeah.