Ingerlund and the Bone Fire of the inanities

It seemed somehow apt that Ingerlund hit the reality wall in Russia on the 11th night.

Apparently, the football universe was calling time on a misplaced sense of entitlement.

Around the same time that Mr Southgate realised that it really was all over, across the northeast of this island Orange hatred of the Other reached ignition temperatures.

These Loyalists “bone fires” are themselves an outpouring of detestation masquerading as an expression of a bona fide ethnicity.

They are burning representations of what they hate.

That, I’m afraid is the extent and depth of their “kulchurr”.

As others within the wider unionist tradition in Northern Ireland start to see the many advantages of being in an all-island polity the so-called PUL (Protestant Unionist Loyalist) community remain cut adrift.

Beached on the wrong shore of history I have no idea how they will deal with the new realities in the post-Brexit UK.

The most pressing issue for the PUL community is a Northern Ireland with a nationalist majority within a few years.

In Fair Caledonia, many would have basked in the schadenfreude of the end of the English odyssey in Russia.

All sport can be an escape from the burdens of ordinary life, but as the fires ranged in Belfast there are questions for those in positions of authority in the city of my birth.

The Orange hate fest still seems to have official tolerance in nice new multi-cultural Scotland.

Despite an online petition with over 75,000 signatures the SNP controlled city council in Glasgow is turning a Nelsonian eye to the overt fascism on their streets.

It does lend weight to the concern that some feel about the position of the Catholic community in an independent Scotland.

Moreover, it will take more than soothing words from the First Minister about a “Scotland of many cultures” when this officially sanctioned hatred is allowed on the streets of Glasgow.

Of course, that enmity is often heard at Ibrox and the stadium that John Brown played for remains a venue for anti-Catholic sentiment and anti-Irish racism.

The match against Croatia was the end of the delusional journey for fans of Ingerlund who thought that the World Cup was “coming home”.

Their sense of entitlement and exceptionalism is redolent of the vibe at Ibrox and around the burning pallets on the 11th night in Rathcoole and Sandy Row.

In Russia Gareth Southgate’s lads finally came up against a cerebral football brain who plies his trade with Real Madrid.

Luka Modrić has had a heroically tragic life.

In 1991, when he was only six, the slightly built playmaker lost his grandfather, shot dead by Serbian thugs who wanted to “ethnically cleanse” their mountain village in Croatia.

When he was an aspiring player he was told by coaches that he was too small and didn’t have the correct personality to make it in the professional game.

Despite everything that life threw at him Luka Modrić had a love of football and that spurred him on.

As a writer, I am always fascinated by what motivates people to do what they do.

Sadly, what motivated those Chetniks to execute the grandfather of Luka Modrić is exactly the same Herrenvolk exceptionalism that authorises Orange “kulchurr”.

The people who erected those pyres across the Six Counties are the descendants of a very vicious period of ethnic cleansing on this island.

It is clear from their iconography and rants on social media that many in the self-defined PUL community would like Plantation 2.0.

It would appear that there are just too many Taigs in their “Pravince” for their liking.

That xenophobia can be seen in the 11th night “bone fires” when you look at the effigies that are burned.

In keeping with the despairing nihilism of that worldview, they do not seem to care where they build these grotesque funeral pyres on which they symbolically burn decency and tolerance.

The PUL belief system is what authorised the man who felt justified in spitting in Canon Tom White’s eye on the steps of St Alphonsus last Saturday.

Yet the SNP controlled city council seem unmoved by this.

Over to you Nicola.