Over the weekend, someone sent me the latest Brian Wilson foaming-at-the-mouth botched hatchet job on the Scottish Government, one article in a long line of them under his name; single-issue obsession pieces written apparently in complete ignorance of Celtic’s need to work with those on the council and those running Holyrood.

It is, on its own terms, an attempted demolition job. It tries to be sharp, scathing, and relentless in its critique of a political system Wilson believes has lost its way. In fact, it’s yet another dull sectarian diatribe against a party many in Scottish Labour loathe more thoroughly the Tories. In it, he talks about a lack of vision, about low standards, about an executive that avoids accountability and which measures success by how well it can dodge responsibility rather than accept it.

Does any of that sound familiar to you? It should. Because what he has written there is not just a cack-handed critique of Holyrood and a political foe which lives rent-free in his head just as it does for much of Scottish Labour. It is an accidental description, and indictment of, the culture he presides over at Celtic Park.

This is the unintentionally hilarious...