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The Media
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Topic Started: 1 Nov 2017, 11:12 PM (581,092 Views)
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justinjest
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18 Mar 2018, 11:19 AM
Post #2321
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- Timmy7
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- shugmc
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Here it is Spoiler: click to toggle
17th March Faith no more? Have catholic schools had their day, asks Kevin McKenna Kevin McKenna
PEAK Catholicism happened for me in 1975. I was 11 years of age and have often thought since that my one chance of accessing heaven without any dispute came and went during those anointed 12 months. I wouldn’t say I’d spent the year actively seeking an untimely demise but if this had occurred I’d have been a lot more sanguine about it then than at any time since. I’m likely to require snookers now.
My teacher at St Machan’s Primary in Lennoxtown, a remarkable woman called Nan McCafferty, had told us about an ancient Catholic observance called the First Friday Devotion. Basically, this entailed attending morning Mass on the first Friday of nine consecutive months. In return the devotee would receive “the grace of final repentance”. This was over and above our normal Sunday Mass attendance. It held out the hope that you wouldn’t die without receiving the sacraments and thus the road to salvation might become a little less jaggy. And so, I dutifully attended Mass at 8am on the first Friday of every month throughout that year, fully expecting to become a better person. In a life where most of the Deadly Sins proved irresistible to me I have often since wondered if my devotion throughout 1975 might be accepted as decent deposit in the final reckoning.
Kevin McKenna: Why university lecturers are seeking democratic accountability
In those days most of my friends existed inside a Catholic bubble. The parish priest was a regular visitor and, on Holy Days of Obligation we were marched over a park and through a housing scheme to attend yet another Mass. There was a saint for every affliction and statues of the Blessed Virgin Mary stood ready each May and November to be garlanded with flowers while we sang hymns from little blue books rubbed smooth by the thumbs of those who had sat in these seats over decades. Outside of school our friendships with our Protestant neighbours continued unhindered into adulthood.
We were third and fourth generation Irish and the Catholic faith of our parents and grandparents had been a rock to them. It helped them to endure widespread discrimination in the employment market and the barely-concealed contempt of Scotland’s civic institutions which viewed them as ill-educated jailbirds. Their faith was more than just Church on a Sunday and the teachings of the bible: it was something that defined their humanity; their politics; their relationships and their responsibilities to the state. The schools were sacred to them because they were extensions of the faith and, as such could be entrusted with the spiritual formation of their children. These schools also had to be very good at education. In the face of rejection by the professions and the acute hostility of the old guilds and the Scottish engineering industry they carried the hopes of thousands of families that their children might come to experience a life better than theirs.
The Catholic secondary was no less devout but significantly less cosy. This was where the business end of a Catholic education was to be found and it was where the passport out of the ghetto lay. In Scotland these schools served a dual purpose vital to the economic and civic health of the nation. They formed a bridge that allowed the Irish immigrant community to contribute to wider Scottish society while maintaining its precious faith. The excellence of Scotland’s Catholic secondary schools since their establishment 100 years ago and the sheer breadth of the education they provide have played a significant role in breaking down the fear and suspicion of the Irish.
Ten years ago the then First Minister Alex Salmond said: “Scotland’s diversity is a source of strength, not weakness. For too long, the attitude of some has been, at best, grudging acceptance of Catholic education and, at worst, outright hostility. All faith-based schools play a significant role in helping to shape, inspire and strengthen our young people to learn. It’s time to celebrate their contribution to Scottish education.” Later this year his successor Nicola Sturgeon is expected to echo those sentiments when she delivers the annual Cardinal Winning Lecture.
Kevin McKenna: Why university lecturers are seeking democratic accountability
Yet, even as the Church in Scotland celebrates the centenary of Catholic state schools provided for in the 1918 Education Act, there is a growing acknowledgment within its own community that a rational debate has to take place about their purpose in a country much changed from that which existed a century ago.
From the early 1920s onwards these schools were gradually transferred from Church ownership to state ownership. The civil servants and politicians who drew up the original legislation probably didn’t know it at the time but they were bringing forth one of the great pieces of enlightened, progressive and inclusive legislation that has ever been produced in this country. Before 1918 most Scottish schools were ‘board schools’ organised by school boards and supported by local rates. The Catholic community though insisted on establishing more than 200 voluntary schools. These received some central funding but nothing from the rates which Catholics were still paying. The Act sought to bring these schools under the umbrella of the state principally owing to concerns about an unsatisfactory two-tier system.
Both the Catholic Church and the Church of Scotland were approached to secure their agreement. The Kirk was happy to acquiesce with what was on offer, believing that, as the nation’s established church all safeguards on faith and instruction would automatically follow. The Catholic Church, though, insisted on two fundamental concessions: the absolute right of local bishops over appointments and the right to teach the Catholic faith in the way it wanted. Scotland was happy to grant this and the arrangement has been beneficial to all sides. There are now more than 365 Catholic schools in Scotland.
In the 21st century the pattern of religious observance in this country has altered drastically. Only around one quarter of Scotland’s 700,000 Catholics attend church, a picture of decline matched by the mainstream Protestant churches. If Catholic families are turning away from their own church in such numbers where is the argument for faith schools in a nation where Catholics are much more comfortable in their Scottish skin than they were 100 years ago?
Mark Cairns is headteacher at the non-denominational Cumbernauld Academy and a practising Catholic. He feels it is now time to have a mature and rational debate about the purpose of Catholic schools in 21st century Scotland. “Look, there can be no doubt that Catholic schools have contributed magnificently to Scotland’s education system and they helped form me and define me as a person. But I wonder if sometimes a sort of Catholic exceptionalism is aired by some whereby it’s claimed that Catholic schools possess some kind of moral X-factor somehow missing in the non-denominational sector. This would be at odds with the reality in schools such as Cumbernauld Academy.
“I know there are brilliant Catholic schools but everything that makes them great can also be found in a good non-denominational school. At Cumbernauld Academy we have a strong pattern of pastoral support based on fundamental core values of decency, respect for others and honesty. We have a mission to reach out to disadvantaged communities at home and overseas. Crucially, the spiritual needs of all children – no matter their faith background – are met. I don’t know of any non-denominational school where this is not the case.”
Cairns also points to an area where there might be a clash between Catholic moral teaching and the needs of LGBT children. His school has just been awarded LGBT Youth Scotland’s Silver LGBT Charter which recognises an assortment of best practices.
“As a practising Catholic I fully understand the church’s teaching and tradition on some of these issues. But here my primary responsibility is to the care and wellbeing of all my pupils. Though I know that the pastoral care in Catholic schools is excellent I also wonder if there is the potential for a conflict of interests in this area.”
At St Ninian’s Secondary in Kirkintilloch, a few miles north of Glasgow, the head Paul McLaughlin is conducting me on a mini-tour of his 700-pupil school as it gets back to normal following the ravages of the Beast from the East. This is where I spent four happy years in the late 1970s and though a smart new-build now rests on the site of the old school, which had stood here since 1874, a familiar sense of warmth and contentment washes over me and for a moment I am slightly overcome. The day I walked out of here I left behind my last few genuinely carefree moments but it was a place where I’d been encouraged to think clearly and to believe that anything was possible.
Kevin McKenna: Why university lecturers are seeking democratic accountability
McLaughlin is at ease with the pupils and them with him. We walk through the games hall and encounter a group of boisterous first year boys larking about with a football. He loves the fact that they don’t feel the need to stand to attention and salute him.
Later, in his office, he outlines the philosophy and values of St Ninian’s in the 21st century. He points out that, never having taught in a non-denominational school, he can’t comment on what goes on in them but refutes any suggestion of Catholic exceptionalism. “What there is in this school and others I’ve been at is perhaps a sense of us all being in this together and of facing in the same direction; a sense of community where everyone feels they belong and where they feel valued as individuals.
“As well as our traditional feeder schools we have a non-denominational primary school where the parents of their primary seven pupils, almost without exception, want to send their children here. Now obviously they’re not sending them here because we’re a Catholic school or because they are guaranteed to get great academic results but because they recognise that this is a school founded on care and compassion for others and doing things the right way.
“But let’s be honest here; we’re just down the road from Lenzie Academy, [one of the top-rated schools for academic achievement in the country], so for these parents to be so keen to send their children here tells you that they think we’ve got something; that they like what we’re about and that they believe we have a North Star in terms of the values that guide us.”
As an illustration he offers the story of a second year pupil who took her own life a couple of years back and of much-loved teacher who died recently at the age of 50. “I would not have liked to have gone through that in a school which didn’t possess the same values we have here,” he says. “And anyway,” he adds, “even if you don’t buy into this why would anyone want to close down schools which have shown a standard of continuing excellence based on care and compassion for the whole person and for others and which have worked for the great benefit of this country.”
He gently refutes the notion that the pastoral care of LGBT children might be compromised in a Catholic school. “At St Ninian’s we don’t see LGBT children or Asian children or children with learning difficulties or mental health issues. We only see the whole child and want to establish a framework where they will all be cared for and all their needs met. In our Religious Education classes our students are encouraged to question belief at all times.
“But let’s also be clear about something: our parents have repeatedly told us that while of course they would be concerned if our academic standards slipped they would be much more concerned if they felt that our Catholic identity was slipping.”
Monica Kierney, the head girl at St Ninian’s, is passionate about how Catholic education has helped shape her outlook on the world beyond. “I think Catholic social teaching has never been more relevant to society than it is today,” she says. “It encourages me and my friends to work for a fairer world as well as urging us to be the best that we can be. It has given me opportunities to think of others and to help them by following the example of Jesus. As I move on from school I can only speak of the positive value my Catholic education has given to me in preparing for the future.”
The term ‘post-Christian society’ is still loosely conferred on a modern Scotland where there are many more philosophical and behavioural attractions competing with religious faith for our hearts and minds. In the 2011 census though, 53.8% of Scots identified as Christian. Yet, how many more, while professing no religious conviction had their values and ethics shaped, at least in part, by faith?
Dr Roisin Coll, Director of the St Andrew’s Foundation for Catholic Teacher Education at the University of Glasgow, has no doubts about the value of Catholic education in seeking ways to combat unfairness and social inequality. “In Scotland there exists a synergy of school, community and government key to combating disadvantage and the social mobility of the Catholic community. Many Catholics have their historical roots in famine and disadvantage and this has helped mould our response today to those who feel alienated or excluded.
“Catholic schools ‘get it’ since we understand this narrative and we understand the commandment ‘love thy neighbour’ which means we have to do something about it; to respond; to make a difference. Catholic education seeks to make a difference whether it is in the lives of people confronting hardship and poverty in their own community or people confronting dislocation, asylum and violence from refugee communities. Catholic education has embedded a sense of solidarity with disadvantaged communities because that is part of our own narrative, our memory.”
Visiting St Ninian’s this week rekindled memories and stirred echoes of half a lifetime ago. I was cared for here by men and women who were dedicated to helping me and my friends make something of ourselves. These people, grounded in the faith and wisdom of ages, also instilled in me the political values and social perspectives which have helped form me. Without this faith I am nothing and Scotland is utterly reduced.
Don’t see anything wrong with that I was waiting to see if someone was going to explain the problem
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peperoncino
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18 Mar 2018, 11:20 AM
Post #2322
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- padrepio
- 18 Mar 2018, 11:09 AM
no gordon parks column in this weeks Sunday Mail...... They're still trying to extract him from Greg Docherty's arse.
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Bingo
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18 Mar 2018, 11:20 AM
Post #2323
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- Father John Misty
- 17 Mar 2018, 09:47 PM
- richiebhoy1888
- 17 Mar 2018, 09:14 PM
- justinjest
- 17 Mar 2018, 02:45 PM
hun has no religious connotations, so how can it be classed as sectarian? I've always believed it was used to describe the rangers fans who rampaged through Europe in the 70's and the term stuck - am I making this up? Was the word used to describe them before this? My B-I-L is an ex-ST at ibrox, my sons refer to him as a big hun because of this, he doesn't appear to have any issue with this (my sons are COS prods, are they huns as well?). I've been trying to have a discussion with James Dornan about sectarianism - he insists that Celtic fans sing sectarian songs, I've asked him to name them. I've also asked him again, as I have other elected members, what they are doing about the orange order and why nobody in government will take a stance against them. And why in this day and age of cuts, do councils have to use money to police / marshall the walks when there are plenty of better projects that the money could be used for.
the word Hun is in no way sectarian . Fans of every club in Scotland refer to them as " the Huns" , yet the demographics of Scotland would suggest that most clubs with the exception of Celtic and possibly Hibs have a majority Protestant fan base. Celtic in my experience also have a sizeable Protestant support ,and the ones i know also refer to them as " the Huns" so how can it be classed as sectarian ?? It's nonsense
They've used it to describe us in the past, probably because we left the floodlights on at CP for the luftwaffe FACT. It appears in a few loyalist songs too, I think one even mentions fenian huns. It's pathetic of the huns and their lapdogs in the press to try and attach it to sectarian behaviour. Jock Stein-Protestant, Neil McCann-Hun, it's really that simple, religion has never come into it. from KDS, 2005. Is it:
a) Quote: Huns were Germans and everybody still hated the Germans. So the name became a hate thing for anybody.
coupled with... Quote: I heard it was Ian Archer writing in the Express that described them as Huns after Barcelona in 1972. After that it changed from being a general term of abuse to one reserved for Rangers fans.
b ) Quote: orginates from the behaviour of the rangers fans before, during and after their Cup Winners Cup final in Barcelona..the daily catalan newspaper headlines the day after the game stated that 'The Huns have invaded'..I think they thought the term would aptly describe the desecration of chapels, rioting, pitch invansions and other 'hunnish' behaviour.
c) Quote: The hun word goes as far back as 1959 when the they were banned in england from partaking in friendlies because of their violent hunnish behavour in towns and villages after games in the north of england on their way north to scotland..
d) Quote: the Foggy Dew argument
Right proudly high over Dublin town They hung out a flag of war; 'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky Than at Suvla or Sudel Bar. and from the plains of Royal Meath Strong men came hurrying through, While Britannia's sons with their long ranging guns Sailed in from the foggy dew.
I believe the argument here centres around the lyrics in bold. Should it read "Britannia's HUNS with their long ranging guns"? Sure I've heard this sang before, perhaps by the Wolfetones.
Seems dubious to me: OPH will have to elaborate I'm afraid if this is to be the Call My Bluff winner!
d) Quote: I was under the impression that the term Hun, originates from Hanoverians who were associated with the german House of Hanover, who in time took to the throne. "Hanoverians" ended up being shortened to the term Hun.
e) Quote: QUOTE 3. A barbarous or destructive person.
Hmmmm anyone see a resemblance.
f) Quote: thought this went back to Kaiser Wilhelm II who referred to the original Huns (Attila's outfit) during a speech to German troops in 1900.
QUOTE ... When you come upon the enemy, smite him! Pardon will not be given! Prisoners will not be taken! Whoever falls into your hands is forfeit. Once, a thousand years ago, the Huns under their King Attila made a name for themselves, one still potent in legend and tradition. May you in this way make the name German remembered in China for a thousand years so that no Chinaman will ever again dare to even squint (sic) at a German! (sic)
g) Quote: I'm sure I read somewhere that the first instance of them being referred to as 'Huns' originated from during the Second World War when Rangers were getting players from all over Scotland to play for them who otherwise should have been fighting or at least playing for their local team. In such a sense they were the enemy of all other clubs, and as the enemy of Britain at the time was Germany AKA 'the Huns', then the term was applied to Rangers.
h) Quote: My father (80 on Sunday) told me that the term "Hun" arose from rangers being the only team in Scotland that hosted the German (National Socialist i.e. Nazi) football team in the mid thirties. He told me that they (Rangers) were the only hosts in the UK to either welcome the german team on to the park with the Nazi salute or to return the same. From this, I am told, came the use of the term "Hun" whch had been in widespread use since the First World war when it was used by the (English-speaking) Allied powers to describe Germans
After all that I'm not sure if I'm any further forward.
Here's my rough attempt then:
Hun (noun)
A derogatory description of Rangers fans. This term, originally used to describe the German forces during the two World Wars, was taken up by football fans to describe the opposition support (the enemy). Over the years, this term was applied more and more to Rangers supporters in light of their behaviour as a travelling support, particularly in 1959 when they caused havoc in the North of England. The association between the Rangers support and the term was cemented following their misbehaviour in Barcelona in 1972 when the term was used in various press articles after the game.
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tenerifetim
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18 Mar 2018, 11:25 AM
Post #2324
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- Fly Pelican
- 17 Mar 2018, 03:40 PM
Sevco have a ten million pound player on their bench today, pretty impressive. My wife has a potential Ł70million pound lottery ticket in her purse , I won't lose any sleep if it doesn't come up!
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Lobey Dosser
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18 Mar 2018, 11:33 AM
Post #2325
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- padrepio
- 18 Mar 2018, 11:09 AM
no gordon parks column in this weeks Sunday Mail...... what's the world coming to !!
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Ned Rise
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18 Mar 2018, 11:43 AM
Post #2326
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These boots were made for hunbustin'
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- screwtop
- 18 Mar 2018, 08:24 AM
I see Kevin McKenna is at it again. At it again how?
What was he at before?
He's writing in support of Catholic schools. Personally I'd have preferred it if the one I went to was more of the 'excellent' variety rather than just Catholic.
I can see both sides of the argument but I don't really care either way if I'm being honest.
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blanco
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18 Mar 2018, 12:31 PM
Post #2327
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- justinjest
- 18 Mar 2018, 11:19 AM
- Timmy7
- 18 Mar 2018, 11:16 AM
- kkc08
- 18 Mar 2018, 11:00 AM
Quoting limited to 3 levels deep Spoiler: click to toggle
17th March Faith no more? Have catholic schools had their day, asks Kevin McKenna Kevin McKenna
PEAK Catholicism happened for me in 1975. I was 11 years of age and have often thought since that my one chance of accessing heaven without any dispute came and went during those anointed 12 months. I wouldn’t say I’d spent the year actively seeking an untimely demise but if this had occurred I’d have been a lot more sanguine about it then than at any time since. I’m likely to require snookers now.
My teacher at St Machan’s Primary in Lennoxtown, a remarkable woman called Nan McCafferty, had told us about an ancient Catholic observance called the First Friday Devotion. Basically, this entailed attending morning Mass on the first Friday of nine consecutive months. In return the devotee would receive “the grace of final repentance”. This was over and above our normal Sunday Mass attendance. It held out the hope that you wouldn’t die without receiving the sacraments and thus the road to salvation might become a little less jaggy. And so, I dutifully attended Mass at 8am on the first Friday of every month throughout that year, fully expecting to become a better person. In a life where most of the Deadly Sins proved irresistible to me I have often since wondered if my devotion throughout 1975 might be accepted as decent deposit in the final reckoning.
Kevin McKenna: Why university lecturers are seeking democratic accountability
In those days most of my friends existed inside a Catholic bubble. The parish priest was a regular visitor and, on Holy Days of Obligation we were marched over a park and through a housing scheme to attend yet another Mass. There was a saint for every affliction and statues of the Blessed Virgin Mary stood ready each May and November to be garlanded with flowers while we sang hymns from little blue books rubbed smooth by the thumbs of those who had sat in these seats over decades. Outside of school our friendships with our Protestant neighbours continued unhindered into adulthood.
We were third and fourth generation Irish and the Catholic faith of our parents and grandparents had been a rock to them. It helped them to endure widespread discrimination in the employment market and the barely-concealed contempt of Scotland’s civic institutions which viewed them as ill-educated jailbirds. Their faith was more than just Church on a Sunday and the teachings of the bible: it was something that defined their humanity; their politics; their relationships and their responsibilities to the state. The schools were sacred to them because they were extensions of the faith and, as such could be entrusted with the spiritual formation of their children. These schools also had to be very good at education. In the face of rejection by the professions and the acute hostility of the old guilds and the Scottish engineering industry they carried the hopes of thousands of families that their children might come to experience a life better than theirs.
The Catholic secondary was no less devout but significantly less cosy. This was where the business end of a Catholic education was to be found and it was where the passport out of the ghetto lay. In Scotland these schools served a dual purpose vital to the economic and civic health of the nation. They formed a bridge that allowed the Irish immigrant community to contribute to wider Scottish society while maintaining its precious faith. The excellence of Scotland’s Catholic secondary schools since their establishment 100 years ago and the sheer breadth of the education they provide have played a significant role in breaking down the fear and suspicion of the Irish.
Ten years ago the then First Minister Alex Salmond said: “Scotland’s diversity is a source of strength, not weakness. For too long, the attitude of some has been, at best, grudging acceptance of Catholic education and, at worst, outright hostility. All faith-based schools play a significant role in helping to shape, inspire and strengthen our young people to learn. It’s time to celebrate their contribution to Scottish education.” Later this year his successor Nicola Sturgeon is expected to echo those sentiments when she delivers the annual Cardinal Winning Lecture.
Kevin McKenna: Why university lecturers are seeking democratic accountability
Yet, even as the Church in Scotland celebrates the centenary of Catholic state schools provided for in the 1918 Education Act, there is a growing acknowledgment within its own community that a rational debate has to take place about their purpose in a country much changed from that which existed a century ago.
From the early 1920s onwards these schools were gradually transferred from Church ownership to state ownership. The civil servants and politicians who drew up the original legislation probably didn’t know it at the time but they were bringing forth one of the great pieces of enlightened, progressive and inclusive legislation that has ever been produced in this country. Before 1918 most Scottish schools were ‘board schools’ organised by school boards and supported by local rates. The Catholic community though insisted on establishing more than 200 voluntary schools. These received some central funding but nothing from the rates which Catholics were still paying. The Act sought to bring these schools under the umbrella of the state principally owing to concerns about an unsatisfactory two-tier system.
Both the Catholic Church and the Church of Scotland were approached to secure their agreement. The Kirk was happy to acquiesce with what was on offer, believing that, as the nation’s established church all safeguards on faith and instruction would automatically follow. The Catholic Church, though, insisted on two fundamental concessions: the absolute right of local bishops over appointments and the right to teach the Catholic faith in the way it wanted. Scotland was happy to grant this and the arrangement has been beneficial to all sides. There are now more than 365 Catholic schools in Scotland.
In the 21st century the pattern of religious observance in this country has altered drastically. Only around one quarter of Scotland’s 700,000 Catholics attend church, a picture of decline matched by the mainstream Protestant churches. If Catholic families are turning away from their own church in such numbers where is the argument for faith schools in a nation where Catholics are much more comfortable in their Scottish skin than they were 100 years ago?
Mark Cairns is headteacher at the non-denominational Cumbernauld Academy and a practising Catholic. He feels it is now time to have a mature and rational debate about the purpose of Catholic schools in 21st century Scotland. “Look, there can be no doubt that Catholic schools have contributed magnificently to Scotland’s education system and they helped form me and define me as a person. But I wonder if sometimes a sort of Catholic exceptionalism is aired by some whereby it’s claimed that Catholic schools possess some kind of moral X-factor somehow missing in the non-denominational sector. This would be at odds with the reality in schools such as Cumbernauld Academy.
“I know there are brilliant Catholic schools but everything that makes them great can also be found in a good non-denominational school. At Cumbernauld Academy we have a strong pattern of pastoral support based on fundamental core values of decency, respect for others and honesty. We have a mission to reach out to disadvantaged communities at home and overseas. Crucially, the spiritual needs of all children – no matter their faith background – are met. I don’t know of any non-denominational school where this is not the case.”
Cairns also points to an area where there might be a clash between Catholic moral teaching and the needs of LGBT children. His school has just been awarded LGBT Youth Scotland’s Silver LGBT Charter which recognises an assortment of best practices.
“As a practising Catholic I fully understand the church’s teaching and tradition on some of these issues. But here my primary responsibility is to the care and wellbeing of all my pupils. Though I know that the pastoral care in Catholic schools is excellent I also wonder if there is the potential for a conflict of interests in this area.”
At St Ninian’s Secondary in Kirkintilloch, a few miles north of Glasgow, the head Paul McLaughlin is conducting me on a mini-tour of his 700-pupil school as it gets back to normal following the ravages of the Beast from the East. This is where I spent four happy years in the late 1970s and though a smart new-build now rests on the site of the old school, which had stood here since 1874, a familiar sense of warmth and contentment washes over me and for a moment I am slightly overcome. The day I walked out of here I left behind my last few genuinely carefree moments but it was a place where I’d been encouraged to think clearly and to believe that anything was possible.
Kevin McKenna: Why university lecturers are seeking democratic accountability
McLaughlin is at ease with the pupils and them with him. We walk through the games hall and encounter a group of boisterous first year boys larking about with a football. He loves the fact that they don’t feel the need to stand to attention and salute him.
Later, in his office, he outlines the philosophy and values of St Ninian’s in the 21st century. He points out that, never having taught in a non-denominational school, he can’t comment on what goes on in them but refutes any suggestion of Catholic exceptionalism. “What there is in this school and others I’ve been at is perhaps a sense of us all being in this together and of facing in the same direction; a sense of community where everyone feels they belong and where they feel valued as individuals.
“As well as our traditional feeder schools we have a non-denominational primary school where the parents of their primary seven pupils, almost without exception, want to send their children here. Now obviously they’re not sending them here because we’re a Catholic school or because they are guaranteed to get great academic results but because they recognise that this is a school founded on care and compassion for others and doing things the right way.
“But let’s be honest here; we’re just down the road from Lenzie Academy, [one of the top-rated schools for academic achievement in the country], so for these parents to be so keen to send their children here tells you that they think we’ve got something; that they like what we’re about and that they believe we have a North Star in terms of the values that guide us.”
As an illustration he offers the story of a second year pupil who took her own life a couple of years back and of much-loved teacher who died recently at the age of 50. “I would not have liked to have gone through that in a school which didn’t possess the same values we have here,” he says. “And anyway,” he adds, “even if you don’t buy into this why would anyone want to close down schools which have shown a standard of continuing excellence based on care and compassion for the whole person and for others and which have worked for the great benefit of this country.”
He gently refutes the notion that the pastoral care of LGBT children might be compromised in a Catholic school. “At St Ninian’s we don’t see LGBT children or Asian children or children with learning difficulties or mental health issues. We only see the whole child and want to establish a framework where they will all be cared for and all their needs met. In our Religious Education classes our students are encouraged to question belief at all times.
“But let’s also be clear about something: our parents have repeatedly told us that while of course they would be concerned if our academic standards slipped they would be much more concerned if they felt that our Catholic identity was slipping.”
Monica Kierney, the head girl at St Ninian’s, is passionate about how Catholic education has helped shape her outlook on the world beyond. “I think Catholic social teaching has never been more relevant to society than it is today,” she says. “It encourages me and my friends to work for a fairer world as well as urging us to be the best that we can be. It has given me opportunities to think of others and to help them by following the example of Jesus. As I move on from school I can only speak of the positive value my Catholic education has given to me in preparing for the future.”
The term ‘post-Christian society’ is still loosely conferred on a modern Scotland where there are many more philosophical and behavioural attractions competing with religious faith for our hearts and minds. In the 2011 census though, 53.8% of Scots identified as Christian. Yet, how many more, while professing no religious conviction had their values and ethics shaped, at least in part, by faith?
Dr Roisin Coll, Director of the St Andrew’s Foundation for Catholic Teacher Education at the University of Glasgow, has no doubts about the value of Catholic education in seeking ways to combat unfairness and social inequality. “In Scotland there exists a synergy of school, community and government key to combating disadvantage and the social mobility of the Catholic community. Many Catholics have their historical roots in famine and disadvantage and this has helped mould our response today to those who feel alienated or excluded.
“Catholic schools ‘get it’ since we understand this narrative and we understand the commandment ‘love thy neighbour’ which means we have to do something about it; to respond; to make a difference. Catholic education seeks to make a difference whether it is in the lives of people confronting hardship and poverty in their own community or people confronting dislocation, asylum and violence from refugee communities. Catholic education has embedded a sense of solidarity with disadvantaged communities because that is part of our own narrative, our memory.”
Visiting St Ninian’s this week rekindled memories and stirred echoes of half a lifetime ago. I was cared for here by men and women who were dedicated to helping me and my friends make something of ourselves. These people, grounded in the faith and wisdom of ages, also instilled in me the political values and social perspectives which have helped form me. Without this faith I am nothing and Scotland is utterly reduced.
Don’t see anything wrong with that
I was waiting to see if someone was going to explain the problem Maybe the OP isnt in favour of RC schooling
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The Gorbals Urchin
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18 Mar 2018, 12:33 PM
Post #2328
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Retired and now a BT Sports pundit
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- Bingo
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Quoting limited to 3 levels deep
They've used it to describe us in the past, probably because we left the floodlights on at CP for the luftwaffe FACT. It appears in a few loyalist songs too, I think one even mentions fenian huns. It's pathetic of the huns and their lapdogs in the press to try and attach it to sectarian behaviour. Jock Stein-Protestant, Neil McCann-Hun, it's really that simple, religion has never come into it.
from KDS, 2005. Is it: a) Quote: Huns were Germans and everybody still hated the Germans. So the name became a hate thing for anybody. coupled with... Quote: I heard it was Ian Archer writing in the Express that described them as Huns after Barcelona in 1972. After that it changed from being a general term of abuse to one reserved for Rangers fans. b ) Quote: orginates from the behaviour of the rangers fans before, during and after their Cup Winners Cup final in Barcelona..the daily catalan newspaper headlines the day after the game stated that 'The Huns have invaded'..I think they thought the term would aptly describe the desecration of chapels, rioting, pitch invansions and other 'hunnish' behaviour. c) Quote: The hun word goes as far back as 1959 when the they were banned in england from partaking in friendlies because of their violent hunnish behavour in towns and villages after games in the north of england on their way north to scotland.. d) Quote: the Foggy Dew argument Right proudly high over Dublin town They hung out a flag of war; 'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky Than at Suvla or Sudel Bar. and from the plains of Royal Meath Strong men came hurrying through, While Britannia's sons with their long ranging guns Sailed in from the foggy dew. I believe the argument here centres around the lyrics in bold. Should it read "Britannia's HUNS with their long ranging guns"? Sure I've heard this sang before, perhaps by the Wolfetones. Seems dubious to me: OPH will have to elaborate I'm afraid if this is to be the Call My Bluff winner! d) Quote: I was under the impression that the term Hun, originates from Hanoverians who were associated with the german House of Hanover, who in time took to the throne. "Hanoverians" ended up being shortened to the term Hun. e) Quote: QUOTE 3. A barbarous or destructive person. Hmmmm anyone see a resemblance. f) Quote: thought this went back to Kaiser Wilhelm II who referred to the original Huns (Attila's outfit) during a speech to German troops in 1900. QUOTE ... When you come upon the enemy, smite him! Pardon will not be given! Prisoners will not be taken! Whoever falls into your hands is forfeit. Once, a thousand years ago, the Huns under their King Attila made a name for themselves, one still potent in legend and tradition. May you in this way make the name German remembered in China for a thousand years so that no Chinaman will ever again dare to even squint (sic) at a German! (sic) g) Quote: I'm sure I read somewhere that the first instance of them being referred to as 'Huns' originated from during the Second World War when Rangers were getting players from all over Scotland to play for them who otherwise should have been fighting or at least playing for their local team. In such a sense they were the enemy of all other clubs, and as the enemy of Britain at the time was Germany AKA 'the Huns', then the term was applied to Rangers. h) Quote: My father (80 on Sunday) told me that the term "Hun" arose from rangers being the only team in Scotland that hosted the German (National Socialist i.e. Nazi) football team in the mid thirties. He told me that they (Rangers) were the only hosts in the UK to either welcome the german team on to the park with the Nazi salute or to return the same. From this, I am told, came the use of the term "Hun" whch had been in widespread use since the First World war when it was used by the (English-speaking) Allied powers to describe Germans After all that I'm not sure if I'm any further forward. Here's my rough attempt then: Hun (noun) A derogatory description of Rangers fans. This term, originally used to describe the German forces during the two World Wars, was taken up by football fans to describe the opposition support (the enemy). Over the years, this term was applied more and more to Rangers supporters in light of their behaviour as a travelling support, particularly in 1959 when they caused havoc in the North of England. The association between the Rangers support and the term was cemented following their misbehaviour in Barcelona in 1972 when the term was used in various press articles after the game. There is a picture somewhere of the game in question with the Nazi flag flying high, I actually thought it was Scotland that where playing Germany at Ibrox.
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Archibald P Treadwhistle
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18 Mar 2018, 01:21 PM
Post #2329
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Somewhere between madness and love
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When wartime Germany was referred to as the Hun, it wasn't because they were Protestants...
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littlegmbhoy
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18 Mar 2018, 01:28 PM
Post #2330
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- Timmy7
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- kkc08
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- shugmc
- 18 Mar 2018, 10:41 AM
Quoting limited to 3 levels deep
Here it is Spoiler: click to toggle
17th March Faith no more? Have catholic schools had their day, asks Kevin McKenna Kevin McKenna
PEAK Catholicism happened for me in 1975. I was 11 years of age and have often thought since that my one chance of accessing heaven without any dispute came and went during those anointed 12 months. I wouldn’t say I’d spent the year actively seeking an untimely demise but if this had occurred I’d have been a lot more sanguine about it then than at any time since. I’m likely to require snookers now.
My teacher at St Machan’s Primary in Lennoxtown, a remarkable woman called Nan McCafferty, had told us about an ancient Catholic observance called the First Friday Devotion. Basically, this entailed attending morning Mass on the first Friday of nine consecutive months. In return the devotee would receive “the grace of final repentance”. This was over and above our normal Sunday Mass attendance. It held out the hope that you wouldn’t die without receiving the sacraments and thus the road to salvation might become a little less jaggy. And so, I dutifully attended Mass at 8am on the first Friday of every month throughout that year, fully expecting to become a better person. In a life where most of the Deadly Sins proved irresistible to me I have often since wondered if my devotion throughout 1975 might be accepted as decent deposit in the final reckoning.
Kevin McKenna: Why university lecturers are seeking democratic accountability
In those days most of my friends existed inside a Catholic bubble. The parish priest was a regular visitor and, on Holy Days of Obligation we were marched over a park and through a housing scheme to attend yet another Mass. There was a saint for every affliction and statues of the Blessed Virgin Mary stood ready each May and November to be garlanded with flowers while we sang hymns from little blue books rubbed smooth by the thumbs of those who had sat in these seats over decades. Outside of school our friendships with our Protestant neighbours continued unhindered into adulthood.
We were third and fourth generation Irish and the Catholic faith of our parents and grandparents had been a rock to them. It helped them to endure widespread discrimination in the employment market and the barely-concealed contempt of Scotland’s civic institutions which viewed them as ill-educated jailbirds. Their faith was more than just Church on a Sunday and the teachings of the bible: it was something that defined their humanity; their politics; their relationships and their responsibilities to the state. The schools were sacred to them because they were extensions of the faith and, as such could be entrusted with the spiritual formation of their children. These schools also had to be very good at education. In the face of rejection by the professions and the acute hostility of the old guilds and the Scottish engineering industry they carried the hopes of thousands of families that their children might come to experience a life better than theirs.
The Catholic secondary was no less devout but significantly less cosy. This was where the business end of a Catholic education was to be found and it was where the passport out of the ghetto lay. In Scotland these schools served a dual purpose vital to the economic and civic health of the nation. They formed a bridge that allowed the Irish immigrant community to contribute to wider Scottish society while maintaining its precious faith. The excellence of Scotland’s Catholic secondary schools since their establishment 100 years ago and the sheer breadth of the education they provide have played a significant role in breaking down the fear and suspicion of the Irish.
Ten years ago the then First Minister Alex Salmond said: “Scotland’s diversity is a source of strength, not weakness. For too long, the attitude of some has been, at best, grudging acceptance of Catholic education and, at worst, outright hostility. All faith-based schools play a significant role in helping to shape, inspire and strengthen our young people to learn. It’s time to celebrate their contribution to Scottish education.” Later this year his successor Nicola Sturgeon is expected to echo those sentiments when she delivers the annual Cardinal Winning Lecture.
Kevin McKenna: Why university lecturers are seeking democratic accountability
Yet, even as the Church in Scotland celebrates the centenary of Catholic state schools provided for in the 1918 Education Act, there is a growing acknowledgment within its own community that a rational debate has to take place about their purpose in a country much changed from that which existed a century ago.
From the early 1920s onwards these schools were gradually transferred from Church ownership to state ownership. The civil servants and politicians who drew up the original legislation probably didn’t know it at the time but they were bringing forth one of the great pieces of enlightened, progressive and inclusive legislation that has ever been produced in this country. Before 1918 most Scottish schools were ‘board schools’ organised by school boards and supported by local rates. The Catholic community though insisted on establishing more than 200 voluntary schools. These received some central funding but nothing from the rates which Catholics were still paying. The Act sought to bring these schools under the umbrella of the state principally owing to concerns about an unsatisfactory two-tier system.
Both the Catholic Church and the Church of Scotland were approached to secure their agreement. The Kirk was happy to acquiesce with what was on offer, believing that, as the nation’s established church all safeguards on faith and instruction would automatically follow. The Catholic Church, though, insisted on two fundamental concessions: the absolute right of local bishops over appointments and the right to teach the Catholic faith in the way it wanted. Scotland was happy to grant this and the arrangement has been beneficial to all sides. There are now more than 365 Catholic schools in Scotland.
In the 21st century the pattern of religious observance in this country has altered drastically. Only around one quarter of Scotland’s 700,000 Catholics attend church, a picture of decline matched by the mainstream Protestant churches. If Catholic families are turning away from their own church in such numbers where is the argument for faith schools in a nation where Catholics are much more comfortable in their Scottish skin than they were 100 years ago?
Mark Cairns is headteacher at the non-denominational Cumbernauld Academy and a practising Catholic. He feels it is now time to have a mature and rational debate about the purpose of Catholic schools in 21st century Scotland. “Look, there can be no doubt that Catholic schools have contributed magnificently to Scotland’s education system and they helped form me and define me as a person. But I wonder if sometimes a sort of Catholic exceptionalism is aired by some whereby it’s claimed that Catholic schools possess some kind of moral X-factor somehow missing in the non-denominational sector. This would be at odds with the reality in schools such as Cumbernauld Academy.
“I know there are brilliant Catholic schools but everything that makes them great can also be found in a good non-denominational school. At Cumbernauld Academy we have a strong pattern of pastoral support based on fundamental core values of decency, respect for others and honesty. We have a mission to reach out to disadvantaged communities at home and overseas. Crucially, the spiritual needs of all children – no matter their faith background – are met. I don’t know of any non-denominational school where this is not the case.”
Cairns also points to an area where there might be a clash between Catholic moral teaching and the needs of LGBT children. His school has just been awarded LGBT Youth Scotland’s Silver LGBT Charter which recognises an assortment of best practices.
“As a practising Catholic I fully understand the church’s teaching and tradition on some of these issues. But here my primary responsibility is to the care and wellbeing of all my pupils. Though I know that the pastoral care in Catholic schools is excellent I also wonder if there is the potential for a conflict of interests in this area.”
At St Ninian’s Secondary in Kirkintilloch, a few miles north of Glasgow, the head Paul McLaughlin is conducting me on a mini-tour of his 700-pupil school as it gets back to normal following the ravages of the Beast from the East. This is where I spent four happy years in the late 1970s and though a smart new-build now rests on the site of the old school, which had stood here since 1874, a familiar sense of warmth and contentment washes over me and for a moment I am slightly overcome. The day I walked out of here I left behind my last few genuinely carefree moments but it was a place where I’d been encouraged to think clearly and to believe that anything was possible.
Kevin McKenna: Why university lecturers are seeking democratic accountability
McLaughlin is at ease with the pupils and them with him. We walk through the games hall and encounter a group of boisterous first year boys larking about with a football. He loves the fact that they don’t feel the need to stand to attention and salute him.
Later, in his office, he outlines the philosophy and values of St Ninian’s in the 21st century. He points out that, never having taught in a non-denominational school, he can’t comment on what goes on in them but refutes any suggestion of Catholic exceptionalism. “What there is in this school and others I’ve been at is perhaps a sense of us all being in this together and of facing in the same direction; a sense of community where everyone feels they belong and where they feel valued as individuals.
“As well as our traditional feeder schools we have a non-denominational primary school where the parents of their primary seven pupils, almost without exception, want to send their children here. Now obviously they’re not sending them here because we’re a Catholic school or because they are guaranteed to get great academic results but because they recognise that this is a school founded on care and compassion for others and doing things the right way.
“But let’s be honest here; we’re just down the road from Lenzie Academy, [one of the top-rated schools for academic achievement in the country], so for these parents to be so keen to send their children here tells you that they think we’ve got something; that they like what we’re about and that they believe we have a North Star in terms of the values that guide us.”
As an illustration he offers the story of a second year pupil who took her own life a couple of years back and of much-loved teacher who died recently at the age of 50. “I would not have liked to have gone through that in a school which didn’t possess the same values we have here,” he says. “And anyway,” he adds, “even if you don’t buy into this why would anyone want to close down schools which have shown a standard of continuing excellence based on care and compassion for the whole person and for others and which have worked for the great benefit of this country.”
He gently refutes the notion that the pastoral care of LGBT children might be compromised in a Catholic school. “At St Ninian’s we don’t see LGBT children or Asian children or children with learning difficulties or mental health issues. We only see the whole child and want to establish a framework where they will all be cared for and all their needs met. In our Religious Education classes our students are encouraged to question belief at all times.
“But let’s also be clear about something: our parents have repeatedly told us that while of course they would be concerned if our academic standards slipped they would be much more concerned if they felt that our Catholic identity was slipping.”
Monica Kierney, the head girl at St Ninian’s, is passionate about how Catholic education has helped shape her outlook on the world beyond. “I think Catholic social teaching has never been more relevant to society than it is today,” she says. “It encourages me and my friends to work for a fairer world as well as urging us to be the best that we can be. It has given me opportunities to think of others and to help them by following the example of Jesus. As I move on from school I can only speak of the positive value my Catholic education has given to me in preparing for the future.”
The term ‘post-Christian society’ is still loosely conferred on a modern Scotland where there are many more philosophical and behavioural attractions competing with religious faith for our hearts and minds. In the 2011 census though, 53.8% of Scots identified as Christian. Yet, how many more, while professing no religious conviction had their values and ethics shaped, at least in part, by faith?
Dr Roisin Coll, Director of the St Andrew’s Foundation for Catholic Teacher Education at the University of Glasgow, has no doubts about the value of Catholic education in seeking ways to combat unfairness and social inequality. “In Scotland there exists a synergy of school, community and government key to combating disadvantage and the social mobility of the Catholic community. Many Catholics have their historical roots in famine and disadvantage and this has helped mould our response today to those who feel alienated or excluded.
“Catholic schools ‘get it’ since we understand this narrative and we understand the commandment ‘love thy neighbour’ which means we have to do something about it; to respond; to make a difference. Catholic education seeks to make a difference whether it is in the lives of people confronting hardship and poverty in their own community or people confronting dislocation, asylum and violence from refugee communities. Catholic education has embedded a sense of solidarity with disadvantaged communities because that is part of our own narrative, our memory.”
Visiting St Ninian’s this week rekindled memories and stirred echoes of half a lifetime ago. I was cared for here by men and women who were dedicated to helping me and my friends make something of ourselves. These people, grounded in the faith and wisdom of ages, also instilled in me the political values and social perspectives which have helped form me. Without this faith I am nothing and Scotland is utterly reduced.
Don’t see anything wrong with that Good read.. nothing wrong at all with it.
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TheHumanTorpedo
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18 Mar 2018, 01:33 PM
Post #2331
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Take your discussion re: Catholic schools out of the football forum please.
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Quemelachupen
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18 Mar 2018, 01:51 PM
Post #2332
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- TheHumanTorpedo
- 18 Mar 2018, 01:33 PM
Take your discussion re: Catholic schools out of the football forum please. Well, with that punctuation, I can only blame the schools.
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Bingo
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18 Mar 2018, 02:03 PM
Post #2333
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- Quemelachupen
- 18 Mar 2018, 01:51 PM
- TheHumanTorpedo
- 18 Mar 2018, 01:33 PM
Take your discussion re: Catholic schools out of the football forum please.
Well, with that punctuation, I can only blame the schools.
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Gothamcelt
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18 Mar 2018, 05:17 PM
Post #2334
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Retired and now a BT Sports pundit
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That'll be the media coverage sorted for the rest of the week.
"Should Kipre's red card have been given and what to do with Scott Brown"
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CARLOW BHOY
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18 Mar 2018, 05:25 PM
Post #2335
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Retired and now a BT Sports pundit
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- Gothamcelt
- 18 Mar 2018, 05:17 PM
That'll be the media coverage sorted for the rest of the week.
"Should Kipre's red card have been given and what to do with Scott Brown" Im sure ian beale the hearts manager will have an opinion on the scott brown getting an innocent man sent off
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Father John Misty
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18 Mar 2018, 05:26 PM
Post #2336
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- Gothamcelt
- 18 Mar 2018, 05:17 PM
That'll be the media coverage sorted for the rest of the week.
"Should Kipre's red card have been given and what to do with Scott Brown" I watched it on CTV but they use pictures from SKY, there were alot of close ups of Thomson after the red, I assume they're claiming he shouldn't have shown the red card?
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tonyjaa-csc
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18 Mar 2018, 05:28 PM
Post #2337
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The narrative is already set = Kipre red to be rescinded
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brogan
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18 Mar 2018, 07:36 PM
Post #2338
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- tonyjaa-csc
- 18 Mar 2018, 05:28 PM
The narrative is already set = Kipre red to be rescinded Hope so. Think they play the Huns next. That's why the ref sent him off imo
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RoyAitken
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18 Mar 2018, 08:12 PM
Post #2339
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For the Hun debate.
It was originally Celtic fans who were called Huns. Where did I learn this? It’s in the Scottish National football museum at Hampden. So we used to be the Huns, until the late 50s.
Rangers (rip) played Wolves in the early 60’s. Their fans were up to their usual and the local newspaper the Wolverhampton whatever(?), likened their fans to marauding Huns.
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littlegmbhoy
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18 Mar 2018, 08:29 PM
Post #2340
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- RoyAitken
- 18 Mar 2018, 08:12 PM
For the Hun debate.
It was originally Celtic fans who were called Huns. Where did I learn this? It’s in the Scottish National football museum at Hampden. So we used to be the Huns, until the late 50s.
Rangers (rip) played Wolves in the early 60’s. Their fans were up to their usual and the local newspaper the Wolverhampton whatever(?), likened their fans to marauding Huns. Didn’t know that personally thought it was due to their majesty being of germanic blood.
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