It was on a cold January night. The Christmas blues were finally setting in. Mark Johnstone was just finished tucking his two month old son into bed and sat in his armchair. His mind was unsettled. He had just become a father but he still didnt feel complete. Something was still missing in his life. He earnestly comtemplated this in his night gown and slippers swirling his cognac between his two fingers and puffing enthusiastically on his pipe. He tried growing a beard once but that didnt quite work out as planned. He couldnt put his finger on the issue at hand which was tormenting his troubled mind. The grandfather clock ticked meticulously in the background when just then like a bolt of lightning crashing down to earth, it hit him. He spilled his hennessy on his new expensive persian rug. His wife would not be impressed but fuck it he thought. He found it, his destiny had arrived and it would change the face of the beautiful game all over the world and if not the world, definitely Scandinavia.

He hurriedly reached for his mobile on the coffee table. Cmon, Cmon he whispered anxiously down the reciever. Tuesday night was gangbang night for the holy goalie Jimmy Walsh but Nakamarko desperately hoped to catch the big man between shags. He was in luck, Jimmy was on a piss break from his deaf,his dumb and his blind girls. Naka put across his life altering suggestion to the baldy nympho. Walsh quickly grabbed his jacket and said to his women Sorry girls, I got some business to attend to. Only two girls heard him though. He turned the key and ignited ecto1, his trusted shagging wagon and set off for the eastside knowing something electric was brewing in the winter air. The two men met in an abandoned warehouse in Gamlestan and carefully plotted their plan. On that fateful night a beautiful baby was born, a baby to be nourished and cherished and change peoples perceptions of life for ever more. That babys name was Gothenburg Celtic!

The next day Nakamarko quit his job as a bingo hall announcer (and part time weapons dealer) and Jimmy Walsh cut back on the nympho sessions and they quickly got to work. They quickly made contact with the top Celtic dogs in the city in a effort to get like minded players on board. Adrian Tornado Kelly despite his rustiness and lack of match practice accepted the offer without hesitation. Martin Thommo Thompson was then recruited. An experienced head and die hard tim to boot, thommo was quite the coop for the two bhoys. They were now running on adrenalin. Just a few more and we can finally rule the world the evil geniuses laughed. Andy Burke was next. A tim and a footballer, he ticked all the boxes. Youre in shouted an enthusiastic Naka as he puffed his cigar through his wry smile. The next two signings were the ideal flair pair to leave the bampots of Sweden mystified. Pete Smurf Murphy (flown in from Dublin and record signing) and Rossa McGeady Hurley were jewels in crown of GBG Celtic. Dan TV save Davis and Rugby Neil (fresh out of prison for GBH)were finally brought in to top off proceedings. Its beautiful cried Mark as he looked at the teamsheet. Come on now, dont be crying ya poof scolded the holy goalie as tears gushed down his face staining his brand new timerland boots.

Alas after much debating, waiting, Logistical problems, women problems, drinking, farting, shagging and fighting the day finally came. The Gothenburg Celtic were officially to be unveiled to the world. A team, a legacy, a voice for the people walked across the sands of Ruddalen to meet their destiny. The Celtic word was to be passed on to the uneducated dimwits of Sweden. Here it was, men against boys (literally, the opposition was like fuckin 16!), the time had come. And what a start the bhoys got off to. In their donated green and white Celtic shirts (thanks HB) the Gothenburg Celtic smashed Torslanda Hellkickers 5-2 to go top after one game. Jubilation all round. The players then went on a binge of hookers, champagne and cocaine for two weeks to celebrate this marvelous occassion.


Unfortunately the good time didnt last and the Cellts ended the season midtable. There was some good times like the drubbings of Labban, Torslanda and Hasteviks. And needless to say a few bad times such as the Korpius incident (1-6, I wasnt there btw) and the brawl of the decade where scenes of immense violence shocked the Gothenburg people in the Real PMS game. All in all, the season was a success and it can be attributed to the evil geniuses naka and thg.

A meeting of the directors took place on the last game of the season and the decision was made to move home. As of next season, Mölndal will be home to the Gothenburg Celtic team as they cant be seen to be playing on sand any more now that they are top players. As the season closed up for the winter, the Celtic were adamant that they would stay sharp for the next season. An indoor session was booked for the course of a few months and the Celtic took on The Paddingtons every sunday during the winter. As the two regularly exchange players and stories about dwarf shagging, they knew each other quite well and are well acquainted. How and ever, once the first tip off occurs on the hallowed handball/innebandy court of volviahallen no love is lost and the celts racked up a record amount of drubbings.

Thanks to everyone who helped in the course of the season as we wish for more success in 2009. (DavyG & SMcKinnon n aw byra way)

Hail Hail
Ak