There was nothing more miserable than standing on the terracing at Gorgie in the pishing rain watching us getting kicked off the park on a gray day with the rain slowly dripping down the back of yer neck by bams like Walter Kidd and Wayne Foster and knowing that after 90 mins of this slow death you'd then have to run for it or get a bleaching. First time I have said this in pure ages (and I'll make no apologies for this one) but, quite frankly, fuck Hearts....wankers! Those were some of the most miserable days of my life.