Hibs' decision to cut their prices for yesterday's game against Aberdeen to £10 - in recognition of Eddie Turnbull's old shirt number - was billed as the club's tribute to one of their most famous sons.
Footballers should never go back - to the old club, the true original, the team that made them, where they first kissed the badge and meant it.
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THE leader of the Scottish Conservatives, possibly our most famous spinster, is describing the previous evening at home. Nipping into Marks & Spencer, Annabel Goldie bought a microwaveable meal and some fruit - "otherwise there's a very good chance I could catch scurvy." She doesn't normally drink through the week but she popped a mini bottle of wine in her bag - "Such a handy size" - and an hour later there she was, crying into her sauvignon blanc.
AS USUAL, Waking The Dead came with a warning. "There will be scenes which some viewers may find disturbing."
SPLIT, split - what does it mean? Once, only this: The Banana Splits, a kids' TV show featuring four fabulous furry freaks apparently modelled on Joe Harper, Pat McCluskey, Henry Hall and Jimmy O'Rourke - cuddly wee bauchle footballers that were once a Scottish speciality. The show's catchphrase, signifying imminent danger, was "Uh-oh, Chongo!"
No excuses for returning to one of this column's favourite men or indeed for recalling my favourite interview with Sir Alex Ferguson, from the days when he liked winding up Arsene Wenger.
I MUST say I'm looking forward to Field Of Blood, BBC Scotland's new drama set in the world of newspapers. I don't care if journalists aren't portrayed as heroic; on balance I probably prefer when they're lazy and incompetent.
Really, it's been obvious all along. Right through Mixu Paatelainen's time in Scotland he's done things a wee bit differently.
You never forget your last time. The last time you stood on terrace steps for a match. For me, it was during Bobby Williamson's no-fun tenure as manager of Hibs, and it was an act of wanton football adultery. My team were playing that day but when they needed me most I went to watch Falkirk instead.
THERE was a key moment early on in Lily Allen: From Riches To Rags where some pop fans explained the appeal of the about-to-be-retired star.
Between 6 April and 7 May, Manchester United and Chelsea will play each other three times. Already there are some in England, behaving like over-protective parents of hormonally-haywire teenagers, who are worried about what sort of chaos will result, midway through the second date. Well, try Celtic v Rangers.
I'D LIKE to see David Starkey call Henry VIII fat. But no, the famous historian, an expert on the Tudors, had to insult a teenage boy disillusioned by education.
In these straitened times, the wife and I were doing our sums and wondering what cutbacks we could make. "How much do we watch Sky?" she asked, not unreasonably.
SILK BBC1 Tuesday, 9pm SOUTH RIDING BBC1 Sunday, 9pm THE MODEL AGENCY Channel 4 Wednesday, 10pm
Despite the best attempts of players to bring a dull uniformity to football - all of them talking the same way and scratching their ears and zoning out with headphones - most clubs manage to retain a personality that's entirely their own.
I WAS the last man on earth to get into The Wire. Truth be told, I'm still watching the final season. And yet it's been so long since the show ended that spoiler alerts have been lifted, so I must continue to tread warily through the rest of popular culture, lest another part of the great narrative is ruined for me.
You must have those days when you can't get an infernal tune out of your head. It could be Justin Bieber. It could be the Peppa Pig theme. Or, unshiftable all last week, this: "Super taste! Super inviting! ... Super! Lager!"
OUTCASTS BBC1 Monday, 9pm MAD DOGS Sky1 Thursday, 9pm YOU DON'T KNOW JACK Sky Atlantic Sunday, 9pm
LYKKE Li, the cool Swedish pop star, knows the form by now: release album, go on tour, talk about yourself, be misunderstood. This happened last time and already it's happening again. "If a woman wants to be naked then she should be allowed to be naked," she says.
The comedian Harry Enfield has a great sketch in his TV show where he's the proprietor of a knick-knack shop in London's Notting Hill who hoodwinks the idle rich, flogging ever more useless tat to ever more dim-witted ninnies with too much money and time on their hands. It's even funnier if you know the area and only once have I ever wanted to buy anything there - a painting of a tactics blackboard outlining the build-up to what many consider to be the greatest goal ever scored.