Boyd Signs For Parmo

The Celtic fans and the Scottish media must really have upset Gordon Strachan. How else to explain his transformation into the Pied Piper, leading every Old Firm player into a cave that they can never escape from?

Or, as we know it today, Middlesbrough.

Of course in Hamelin the lame, blind and deaf children were left behind. Gordon's left us with Kirk Broadfoot. Sweet.

Like waiting for a Melanie Phillips appearance on Question Time it's always a treat to hear Kris Boyd speak.

Unveiled by Middlesbrough yesterday at the end of a protracted and ridiculously dull transfer saga, he opined:

"In Scotland you're playing the same teams three or four times a season and that gets boring after a while.

"The majority of people in Scotland want to play in England as it is chance to enjoy the best possible facilities and I had made up my mind that I was coming to Middlesbrough once I came back from holiday."

To which the only possible reply is: "Where the hell did you go on holiday? Kabul?"

He does have a point though. I suppose Rangers players might get a frisson of excitement from playing in Europe or facing up against Celtic. But Kris was normally completely marginalised or benched in those games so it's little wonder that the poor boy got a bit frustrated.

Still. Middlesbrough. Was he not being courted by Premiership clubs? Did Kayserispor not offer him mega bucks to join former Ranger Shoto Arveladze in Turkey?

Yes they did. But the chance to link up with Willo Flood doesn't come round all that often.

And nor does the chance to enjoy Teeside's most magnificent creation.

Is it a coincidence that so many SPL players are ending up in a city where the late night snacks are even more unhealthy than our own?

It can't be:

I recently found myself ravenous in Middlesbrough town centre on a Saturday night after a work assignment, and was directed by a zealous local friend towards what is by far Teesside's most popular fast food – a 'parmesan' (from 'chicken parmesan'), shortened to 'parmo' in general parlance.

The 'Meat Feast Parmo' I ordered for £6.50 consisted of a chicken escalope marginally smaller than a satellite dish, deep fried in breadcrumbs, covered in béchamel sauce and melted cheddar cheese, and then topped with pepperoni, bacon, more cheese, and ladles of creamy garlic sauce. The one bit of protein the parmo does not seem to contain is parmesan.

This extraordinary beast of a late-night 'snack' is served with a mountain of chips and the most sarcastic portion of salad you've ever seen in your life. As you can see, it filled the 12" pizza box it was served in. I ate a third of it with gusto, paused, came up for air, and suddenly felt quite ill. But I'd buy one again in a shot, however many placards my colon might wave in protest at this idea.

How could anyone resist that?

Gordon Strachan: The Parmo Piper of Riverside.

> Money: By hanging around at Ibrox for so long Boyd has made himself a pretty penny. But he's deprived both Rangers and Kilmarnock of transfer fees and add ons that they could both do with. How much sympathy you have for them will depend on your allegiances. But when you consider that Boyd could have set his sights higher than Middlesbrough had he left in January it might leave a bit of a sour taste in Govan and Ayrshire.

> I have tried a Parmo. Beyond words. Not a regular thing but there's something about it. I'd be happy to fall behind Chris Killen in the striking pecking order for the chance to have a Parmo forever to hand.