THIS really is a fun week, so it is, and I’ll tell you what’s got me tickled. It’s the level of hypocrisy shown by our officials, unheard of since the Pharisees got into the widows’ homes repossession business.

Celtic and me have been getting absolutely slaughtered for taking that trip to Dubai, but officials knew back in November that me and the Bhoys were heading for Frasers to buy the budgie smugglers. And, in my case, the Factor 50.

So why are we being ridiculed, with a ferociousness I haven’t seen since the time I got the Billy Idol hair do? (We won’t talk about the handbags situation with Coisty).

No, I won’t apologise for any of it because it’s ridiculous. Yes, Peter Lawell apologised, after having sent out the lad to defend our position, but I won’t say that was hypocritical. Not at least until the time he stops paying my wages and the Non-Disclosure Agreement runs out.

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In any case, I feel that the Dubai trip was a great success story. Look how we managed to make it to a country with a higher infection rate than Scotland, and come back with only two Covids.

Look how we managed to get 60 blokes to be able to convince their partners this trip was necessary – and a right hard training exercise. Each of them gave acting performances that would get them into the Conservatoire.

And there’s a mental health issue here, a subject I know something about. No, not Scott Brown’s brain, which caused him to give that boy a slap on Wednesday, after five minutes on the pitch; how lonely would this lot have felt if they couldn’t get to come with us to the Funshine capital of winter?

Some said it made no sense for Celtic to go to Dubai and train in the heat. But how else were we able to cope with the blizzard of Wednesday night? Wasn’t it good to expose the players such as Soro to our weather extremities? Best to roast the Ivorian in the desert – and then fling him out there into the icicles of Livi. And I’ll tell you this, so I will, once we get him out of the hypothermia suit he’ll be a far stronger player.

But I can laugh at the criticism. I can laugh at the Herald Diary’s joke about it being too late for Trump to pardon me. I’ve dealt with adversity before. I’ve gone to a school that played rugby. I’ve dealt with my partner’s relatives being Rangers fans. I’ve had to contend with having the melanocortin 1 receptor that gives you bright red hair.

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But I won’t walk away. I’ve got dignity, And an accountant who tells me it would be like cutting holes in my own trouser pockets.

It’s our officials that need to think again.

Meantime, I’ll be going into self-isolation, possibly from the summer on. But with five trophies out of six in the bag I can still smile.

As imagined by Brian Beacom