Those among the Scottish rugby supporting public who buy The Herald (maybe 00000000000.1 per cent of the population) will be aware that Kevin Ferrie is the chronicler of their favourite game in their favourite newspaper.
Or, as he likes to be known, Kevin Ferrie, Chief Rugby Writer, with the implication that there is a small army of rugby-writing subordinates backing up The Chief.
In fact, god be thanked, there is only one.
Now he has a regular column, too, imaginatively entitled Ferrie on Thursday, with its further implication that Herald readers should bookmark this particular day as some sort of highlight of their week:
"Jings, it's Thursday, I'm gonna throw a sickie and go hame and self-abuse mesel over wee Kev's picture byline."
Ferrie, who has watched Braveheart 47 times, invented the term "Arrogant English" and employs it as often as he can when describing anyone or anything south of the border.
He hasn't, as yet, been referred to the Race Relations Board, but by all accounts came badly unstuck at the World Cup in 2003 when he turned his rantings on Australians and a local Aussie girl in particular. Her large boyfriend understandably took exception and Stirling's finest found himself airborne.
The spot he landed, or so the legend goes, is still known as "Kev's Corner of Cronulla". He never mentions this in his Thursday column.
Or, as he likes to be known, Kevin Ferrie, Chief Rugby Writer, with the implication that there is a small army of rugby-writing subordinates backing up The Chief.
In fact, god be thanked, there is only one.
Now he has a regular column, too, imaginatively entitled Ferrie on Thursday, with its further implication that Herald readers should bookmark this particular day as some sort of highlight of their week:
"Jings, it's Thursday, I'm gonna throw a sickie and go hame and self-abuse mesel over wee Kev's picture byline."
Ferrie, who has watched Braveheart 47 times, invented the term "Arrogant English" and employs it as often as he can when describing anyone or anything south of the border.
He hasn't, as yet, been referred to the Race Relations Board, but by all accounts came badly unstuck at the World Cup in 2003 when he turned his rantings on Australians and a local Aussie girl in particular. Her large boyfriend understandably took exception and Stirling's finest found himself airborne.
The spot he landed, or so the legend goes, is still known as "Kev's Corner of Cronulla". He never mentions this in his Thursday column.
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