Goldfish Bowl

To be involved with either Old Firm club either as a player or a manager, your existence will constantly be referred to by the media
as like "living in a goldfish bowl", in terms of the scrutiny you come under.
Celtic need a new manager now.
I think it would be a good idea to actually appoint a goldfish.
This isn't as idiotic as it sounds.
There are advantages.
For instance, the goldfish would be unlikely to get into bother with the SFA as a consequence of openly criticising match officials.
In a post-match interview, if the goldfish was asked about a controversial penalty in the first half, he'd already have forgotten about it completely, and would have no view to make known.
(yes it will be a male goldfish...the SPL isn't quite ready for a female goldfish manager)
Also, the goldfish can say that he will "take one match at a time" without being regarded as spouting managerspeak cliches.
At press conferences, the media representatives should be forced to throw a ping pong ball into a goldfish bowl before they can ask the manager a question.
The goldfish could also win favour with the hacks by producing a series of quotable, dreadful, fish puns...
"Are you expecting a big crowd at Parkhead on Saturday?"
"Yes, we fully expect to fillet"
"What's your favourite pop group?"
"Fishbone Ash"
The press will love all that sort of stuff and give the goldfish an easy ride in the tabloids.

I gigged at "Hamish's Hoose" in Paisley last night.
It was hard work, and the heckles were coming thick and fast, but I enjoyed the combative nature of the performance.
I always know now when it is going to be quite a tough gig.
I come on and say that I "specialise in impro-VISATIONAL comedy"...I raise my clipboard and shout "thank you very much" before the audience get a chance to respond.
Most of the time this gets a big laugh, as it all comes across as being a bit mental.
I usually have a good gig if they find this bit funny.
Occasionally, it gets nothing, and from that moment I know that it is going to be hard work.
It went ok in the end but a tough gig nonetheless.
It's a great room for comedy though, and it's always a pleasure to do a gig that fellow comedian Chris Scoular promotes.
He's one of the genuine good guys in comedy, and a very funny man as well.
There was a big crowd at the gig, but it was noticeable how dead the rest of Paisley was on a Saturday night.
There were boarded up night clubs and bars that previously had been swarming with hundreds of revellers.
It had a real ghost town feel to it.
I got back at about 3.00am (losing an hour in the process)
Starving.
The only place I could think to go was the kebab joint at Tollcross.
It's weird being in a place like that when you're stone cold sober and everyone else is pissed out of their skulls.
The way alcohol makes everyone shout at each other is a fascinating phenomenon to observe.
Was alcohol ever called the "shouting drug" in its early days?
I was going to order a healthy kebab, but I couldn't stand waiting in this shouty nightmare, so went for the instant option of a large doner.
I haven't had a doner kebab in years.
I have to admit I enjoyed it, but 2000 calories just before bedtime is not ideal preparation, in terms of conditioning, for
a triathlon.