It is a Tim writing in the press about his favourite team.
He is in some pain.
As much as I try to ignore his scribblings which belong in a fanzine rather than a national newspaper, it is nonetheless a comical read.
Last season saw their world come crashing down in spectacular style.
One moment it was trebles all round the next they were face-first in the gutter.
Gerrard took them by the scruff of the neck and tossed them out the door of Scotland's football pub, like a dismissive bouncer ejecting a loudmouth, drunk on one too many.
Most drunks would have picked themselves up by now, but this one is still languishing in its own pysh.
It is a shame that the authorities are too corrupt to find a prison cell for this particular drunk, because hidden away in the folds of its tattered clothes are the crimes of half a century.
McGowan won't be writing about that!