Tom English tells us Del boy finally has the train set he always wanted at Ibrox…until Celtic and Martin O’Neill completely derail it by Christmas!

Well, well, well…

Tom English has been at the keyboard again.

And he’s outdone himself this time.

A piece so gushing, so misty-eyed, so dewy with admiration that you half expect it to come with a complimentary box of tissues.

The headline?

“Derek McInnes has job he really always wanted.”

The job he really always wanted.

Give me a f*****g break.

Indeed.

The job he always wanted, apparently. Funny that.

Let me get this straight.

According to the Stenography Corps, Del boy has just landed the one gig he’s pined for his entire life.

The Ibrox throne.

The big chair.

The job that was, in English’s own breathless words, the one “he has wanted for all-time”.

Because there’s a wee detail the SMSM’s finest has skated right over.

If this was always the job he wanted…

…why in the name of God did he say no to it in 2017??

Cast your mind back.

October 2017.

Pedro Caixinha gets his P45.

The Ibrox dugout is empty.

And who is the overwhelming bookies’ favourite – the man being measured up for the blazer and the brown brogues?

Derek “Siege Mentality” McInnes.

It was there.

On a plate.

The job he “really always wanted” was sitting in front of him like a Christmas dinner.

And he said no.

He stayed at Aberdeen and signed a new deal instead.

Oh wait – I thought this was the job he always wanted?

Sorry, my mistake.

The job of his dreams, the one he’s apparently lusted after since he was in short trousers, and he turned it down flat.

Convenient that English forgot to mention that, isn’t it??

Tom English’s “train set” routine

Here’s the line that really takes the biscuit.

R*****s are now McInnes’ train set, but with power comes pressure and responsibility. Nothing but a Premiership title will do next season.

The Ibrox side’s “train set.”

A grown man, 54 years old, handed one by the SMSM’s chief romantic.

And we’re meant to swoon.

Make no mistake, this is the same routine the SMSM runs every single time.

A new Ibrox manager arrives.

The back pages are scrubbed, polished, and dressed up like a wedding and the “big personality” line gets wheeled out.

Then the “he knows the league” line gets wheeled out.

The “communicates excellently” line gets wheeled out.

Tom English wrote those exact words.

We heard it for Beale and we heard it for Clement.

We heard it for Röhl.

And here we are again, peepul.

To be fair to Tom, even he couldn’t keep a straight face

Now, give the man his due.

Buried beneath all the romance, English does sneak in the truth.

And it’s brutal.

But, outside of those victories in the second tier, he only has one big trophy to his name as a manager – a League Cup win with the Dons 12 years ago.

One.

In twelve years.

A League Cup in 2014, and then a desert.

English even lists the carnage for us.

Cup ties lost to Dundee United, Hibs, St Johnstone, Dundee, Hearts, Motherwell, St Mirren.

Beaten by half the country.

Twice over.

“There’s still a touch of the nearly man about McInnes,” English admits.

A touch??

The man led a title race from August to the 87th minute of the final day and still managed to Heartsed it.

A touch of the nearly man.

Jesus wept.

And then there’s the small matter of St. Martin

Here’s where English really gives the game away.

His battles with Martin O’Neill at Celtic and with whoever ends at Tynecastle will be compelling.

Compelling.

Aye, they’ll be compelling alright.

Compelling in the way a slow-moving car crash is compelling.

Because while Tom is busy gift-wrapping Del boy his train set, St. Martin the Hunskelper will be (we hope..) quietly building something on the other side of the city.

A proper squad is needed.

We have a proper manager.

And against all the odds, we are still a proper club.

Martin O’Neill asked for backing this summer.

Martin O’Neill will get backing this summer.

Otherwise, the Celtic board will face a wrath that makes last season’s pale into insignificance.

And Del boy – with the chip on his shoulder, the glass ceiling above his head, and the lust for revenge in his belly – will be running into that wall at full pace.

Come February, maybe even by Christmas, when the chips are down and the title is on the line, we know exactly how this story ends.

The same way it always ends with Del boy.

He’ll fold like a cheap deckchair.

So enjoy the column, Tom

Enjoy the romance and enjoy the “job he really always wanted” fairy tale, the one that conveniently airbrushes 2017 out of existence.

Oh, and make sure to enjoy the train set imagery.

Enjoy telling us a man with one major trophy in twelve years is the answer to all the Ibrox side’s prayers.

Because here’s the bottom line.

You cannot dress up a nearly man as a winner.

You cannot hand a man who crumbled at Tynecastle the keys to Scotland’s biggest pressure cooker and call it a masterstroke.

And you cannot tell us this was the job he “always wanted” when the very same job was offered to him nine years ago, and he ran a mile.

The train set is his now.

For a while.

Right up until St. Martin the Hunskelper and the Bhoys derail it in style.

Mark my words.

But hey, what do I know?

And before anyone says “Eric, you’re just ranting into the void again” – yes, I probably am.

Tom English (BBC’s chief Ibrox romantic, apparently) – I rest my case.

End of.

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