Scary Christmas Everyone
It would surely be a direct contravention of the Trades Description Act to term the coming days' football as the festive programme.
Festive?
If random dullards of a violent disposition aren't hurling glass bottles at prone human beings temporarily incapacitated by physical injury then it's racism, sectarianism or any other kind of ism you can think of on this side of the border or down the road in our near neighbours' patch.
If players can threaten to walk off the park and terminate a match in protest against racist abuse then surely they should contemplate the same form of action when unthinkable consequences could follow the throwing of objects at them?
We had a caller on Superscoreboard on Saturday night who openly admitted the decision to deduct points in the event of missile throwing would lead to saboteurs infiltrating a rival's support in order to hurl missiles and prompt that sanction.
The world's gone mad.
And I can't even take the old codger's get out and say it was a better, more mannerly world in my day.
In my day bottle throwing was commonplace because drink was allowed inside football grounds.
And when something happened on the field that random halfwits didn't like they threw bottles which caused injury to their fellow supporters because the bottle shad no chance whatsoever of reaching the pitch.
So the sins of the grandfathers are now being repeated by their grandchildren who cannot be told, threatened or chastised.
Because they just don't care.
Yesterday's telly watch of Spurs against Chelsea was modern day society summed up in an afternoon.
The game itself was preceded by a minute's applause in memory of the late Martin Peters, England World Cup winner of 1966, who passed away at the age of seventy-six.
Peters played for Spurs with some distinction, but that didn't discourage a sub-human from tarnishing the club's name by throwing a missile at Chelsea's goalkeeper.
Before and after that incident we had the now obligatory racist chants and gestures.
Both Spurs and Chelsea had an abundance of black players on the field, but what does that matter?
A home defeat being on the horizon meant a swamp opened up and the pond life came to the surface.
Now we can prepare ourselves for our own outbreak of anti-social behaviour.
The Edinburgh derby on Boxing Day?
Anything could happen while the capital city has developed a deserved reputation for violent conduct.
The Glasgow derby on Sunday?
Guaranteed sectarian singing.
Nailed on misbehaviour.
The absolute certainty that one set of fans will blame the other lot for being worse than they are.
And blah, blah, blah.
The only ones to emerge with credit here are both sets of players.
They have negotiated one league game and a cup final so far this season with just one red card for the concession of a penalty kick and the rest has been blood, sweat and tears of a professionally competitive nature.
Honesty has oozed out of both sets of players and managers.
Neil Lennon went for a 5k run around the track after Celtic's win over Aberdeen at the weekend and I'm told that's part of a daily training regime for him.
Steven Gerrard looks as if he could easily play on Sunday, never mind direct Rangers from the touchline.
Players and management alike are focused, fit and full of finesse.
The only 'F' word they have to avoid is fate.
You couldn't really ask for a more appetising midweek starter before the main course at the weekend, could you?
Celtic are at St. Mirren, who regard goalscoring as an alien concept.
Rangers host Kilmarnock, who sacked their manager for reasons unknown and now look to be in the midst of internal disarray.
If either match turns out to be a booby trap for Celtic or Rangers then they only have themselves to blame.
We have a league of only two contenders for every trophy and ten makeweights.
It's what Celtic and Rangers do against each other that should determine everything at the end of the season.
That's why Sunday is a game of seismic proportions.
The players can handle that. The public might be another matter unfortunately.