The Fiver | Adding insult to injury, Alex McLeish hasn’t been sacked

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Shortbread McFiver woke up at 5.05pm on Sunday on a San Marinian strada. The Fiver’s increasingly problematic stereotypical cousin from north of Brexitland had spent the previous evening sampling Scazzottata, the grappa-flavoured diesel beverage (EN 590 standard, €1.20/l at Agip), his head was sore, and he was irritated to discover that he’d missed the first four minutes of Scotland’s Euro 2020 qualifier with the enclaved microstate in which he’d just met the brand new day. “Jings, crivens and other words popularised by DC Thomson,” he cried, realising that Kenny McLean had already opened the scoring with a deft header. “At least this is the worst I’ll feel all day.” Oh Shortbread!

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