ANYONE who has played alongside me will know I’m writing this week’s column with more brass than a Duke Street pawn shop. You couldn’t mark me with a blow torch as believe it or not, I’m going to have a go at players for going partying and enjoying themselves at the wrong times.

I’ve done it many a time and feel like a bit of a hypocrite but we are in a pandemic and I’m running out of things to speak about, so here goes! And it will be nice to be an authority on something for a change.

During these horrible times we all need to make sacrifices and Jordan Jones and big Dode Edmundson should have got the boxing and the ten-minute preview on Saturday night. Both have acted like myself at 3 o’clock on a Saturday and had an absolute shocker.

Edmundson is nicknamed ‘The Fridge’ but I’ve no doubt he will melt quicker than one you’d get from the Barras when met with Steven Gerrard’s ice-cold stare. I praised Jones in my column recently for showing the attitude and mental strength to get himself back from Siberia and into the Rangers first team.

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But barely a couple of months back from the coldest place a footballer can visit (other than Peterheed when it’s blowing a Dwight Gayle) he better get the fleece and wooly hat back out the suitcase as I’m pretty sure Gerrard will be onto his travel agent looking for a one-way ticket back for the Northern Irishman.

It’s crazy to think he could have thrown his Rangers career down the pan due to off-field antics, especially after working so hard to get back in with his performances on the pitch and in training.

He would have experienced not just himself but the whole club being lower than my IQ last season when trailing Celtic by a massive margin, watching from what must have seemed a million miles away from the team on the side. And to now being nine points clear at the top of the league, playing a decent part in the season and potentially being a part in stopping ten-in-a-row, he goes and sells the jerseys.

They’re not the only ones. The Aberdeen boys and Boli Bolingoli at Celtic have also made the same mistake. Both were rightly criticised, with Bolingoli getting it for going on a plane in what now looks like the only time he’ll be flying anywhere during his Celtic career.

People were surprised when he came in knowing he’d been away and was accused of putting his team-mates and opponents at risk. I don’t know why people were so surprised as he’s been been putting them at risk with his first touch and passing for a year.

Not everyone can be as sensible as me though, and as I’ve matured over the years, this seems like as good a time as any to cast my mind back on the things I’ve done and wonder what on earth I was thinking.

I reached the League One play-off final with Swindon in what was a dream first season at the club and we were just 90 mins away from the English Championship. Every player was rushing about for tickets, desperate to get their family and guests to Wembley for what would have been for many the biggest game of their lives.

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As usual, I was a bit different. I was rushing about trying to get guestlist tickets for the local nightclub after the game for my mates, who were down from Dundee for what they were billing as ‘the biggest p***-up of their lives’. I got it sorted – and also managed to get them eight tickets for the big day at Wembley, even if they thought that part of the day was little more than an inconvenience.

It ends up battering down with rain for 90 mins as we get beat 1-0 in a terrible game, and I’m lower than Jordan Jones’ IQ as we headed back to Swindon on the team bus. Once we got back to the hotel they had put on for us, the atmosphere was worse than a 0-0 at St Johnstone. Everyone was looking to get home as quickly as possible and warning me I should do the same.

Everyone, that is, except my mates, who were acting as if we had won the World Cup and managed to convince me I was man of the match in said final as I cracked on with them.

After getting chucked out for my pals heckling the chairman during his speech, we headed out to the bright lights of Swindon city centre. The night was pretty much a blur until once again we were chucked out our hotel at 6 in the morning, due to my friend having his stomach pumped in the hotel car park.

This was all reported to the club, who were holding a party that day as a way of saying ‘well done’ for the excellent season we had. It was all the directors, shareholders, rich fans and – of course – the players and staff who were to attend, and I got a strict talking to from the gaffer that made me see sense for a couple of minutes. After that, I predictably got carried away and ended up as reeking as my performance the previous day at Wembley.

They say bad things come in threes and the next form of reeking is definitely the worst. I find myself standing next to Billy Paynter at the urinals. Billy’s aim in the gents is similar to his aim in front of goal, and I ended up wetter than the Wembley pitch after 90 mins of constant rain.

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Right on cue, our 19-year-old centre-half Sean Morrison – who hadn’t played a minute that season – came in with a fire extinguisher and blasted us head to toe. Billy managed to wrestle it off Sean, who in turns gets blasted as he somehow manages  to end up in his pants.

We all start wrestling and stumble out into the main room where all the guests were stood with their jaws dropping lower than George Edmunson’s IQ. I end up on the stage head to toe in foam and ask in the broadest of Dundee accents if anyone has a tissue.

All three of us were sent home and I awoke the next day to a phone call from the manager Danny Wilson. He blasted me with what felt like ten fire extinguishers. He eventually calmed down and told me he understood I was a young lad and he still wanted to sign me on a permanent the next season.

As I’ve said before, I look back now and cringe at how I acted as a young man – I’m constantly asking myself, ‘what the f**k were you doing?’

Of course I’m joking when I’m questioning the boys IQs as I’m sure they’re clever lads. I just hope it doesn’t take them until their careers are over for the penny to drop and there’s still hope for them.

Danny Wilson forgave me when I thought I was finished and Steven Gerrard might be similar and give both one more chance. But if he doesn’t, throwing your Rangers career away due to off-field activities is something that will haunt the pair of them for the rest of their lives.