Paul McQuade awakes from his month-long hangover to provide a hazy recollection of this year’s extravaganza…

Our hearts were sore after almost overcoming AC Milan in the San Siro just two nights earlier, but they were soon balmed by this 21st anniversary
of flame-haired homage… and the smuggled Buckie no less.

Twenty-one years of jiggerypokery is usually the kind of achievement that someone like Julio Iglesias or Hugh Hefner likes to boast about, but TB is not to be outdone. There he was again at the top table in Teviot, his hair turned a whiter shade of pale (probably the shock of realising HE signed Mike Galloway for the Hoops), taking the acclaim of his beloved supporters wondering (in a Pet Shop Bhoys-styleeee) “Whatdid- I, What-did-I, What-did-I-do to deserve this?”

In a remarkable hi-tech step forward for the Supper, there were some slidey things on a big screen to remind him (and us) why he remains so highly regarded by the faithful. And a few digs at Walter Smith (“Great chieftain o’ the second place”) and the SFA for good measure.

The Pale-Haired Genius brought along Paul Hartley who received a warmer welcome on his return to Edinburgh than he might otherwise have expected. Unaccustomed to public-speaking the Beardy One said his words of thanks (and a few wholly unnecessary, yet enjoyable, jabs at our Compere without- Compare) from a seated position, almost a metaphor for his performances in the Hoops to date.

Fresh off the plane from Meelan, and still a bit tired and weary from all the license-payer funded excess of it all, was Pat Nevin. The former wing wizard regaled us with tales of how the Celtic support were warmly welcomed by Italian fans and police alike, despite the media-fuelled moral panic beforehand. This year’s Nevin soul-searching didn’t involve Clare Grogan unusually, rather it was about whether to take his kids to support the Hibees against the Celts. He wisely made his excuses and let the wife take them.

A welcome virgin at this year’s Supper was The Herald’s new Chief Sports Writer Hugh MacDonald.

Presented with a corduroy jacket in commemoration of his predecessor, Hun favourite Graham Spiers, Hugh was both funny and informative – surprisingly impressive given he’s survived as a Tim working in the Scottish media for over three decades. Filling Spiersy’s shoes will be no problem, filling the large dent in the office ceiling where his ego used to be might be.

We were entertained throughout the evening with music from Sandy Brechin and Ewan Wilkinson and their variety of traditional and contemporary folk songs.
Unfortunately there was no show from Sandy’s former
band The Sensational Jimi Shandrix Experience although hope springs eternal for next year.

One of the highlights of the night had to be the performance of Pat Abernethy and Dave Marsden from the Isosceles Theatre Group who came all the way from London to re-enact scenes from the renowned play On Our Way to Lisbon. The boys were hilarious – never has the agony of listening to a game on the radio been so well captured - and seemed genuinely moved at the fantastic reception they received.

I’ve had the good fortune to have been at many Suppers since my first in 1989 but one thing that keeps me coming back year after year is the promise of a turn by Peter Broughan. When you see and hear some of the PURE PISH that passes for entertainment in this 21st century it is to my not inconsiderable bafflement that the boy Broughan doesn’t have his own tv show and recording contract. Yet again he provided a rousing finale with Hun-baiting of the highest order with classic
renditions of Fernando and his ode to Lubo. But,
if anything, the goateed one excelled himself this
year with a new version of Springtime for Hitler
inspired by the Huns’ recent rampage through the Holy Land. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE print the lyrics to these masterpieces in the newsletter.

And so again we left Teviot with our bellies and bladders full and our spirits soaring. Well done to all the Bhoys for organising a truly memorable Supper. Make mine a double.