Gary O’Connor, the hipopanonymous

A little blog, to share a slightly sad, but mainly hilarious story about a man, his drugs, and his poor spelling.

Our protagonist is one Gary O’Connor. The same Gary O’Connor who missed almost all of the 09/10 season at Birmingham City due (according to BBC Dispatches) to a failed drugs test, concealed as two operations to solve a hip injury.

The date is May the 14th (be with you). A one man justice machine, PC Morrow,  is patrolling Edinburgh’s George Street, known for it’s high end bars and nightclubs. All of a sudden PC Morrow’s justice sense starts to tingle, he looks to his left to spot four men in the back of a white Land Rover. On closer inspection it seems as if O’Connor is holding a piece of paper to his nose. PC Morrow approaches the vehicle. He opens the door to find a “nervous and distracted” O’Connor, alongside a rolled up £20 note and several bags of white powder. In the interest of maintaining Mr O’Connor’s right to be assumed innocent before proven guilty it would be presumptuous to say the white powder was cocaine, but it was definitely cocaine.

Hold on to your funny bones, they’re about to get a double helping of lol pie.

Upon questioning, O’Connor gave police the false name “Johnston”. When asked to spell “Johnston”, O’Connor got as far as “J…..O……S….” before attempting to flee the scene. O’Connor only made it 300m before being caught by the police officer. Now I’m not really sure how Cocaine affects your 400m time, but for an international level striker to only manage to outpace a police officer for 300m is disappointing to say the least. On catching up with the septum loathing tortoise PC Morrow described O’Connor as “very nervous looking, he was out of breath and appeared to be shaking”. O’Connor was then detained and taken to St Leonards station where several bags of white powder were found in various pockets.

There is something undeniably tragic about a once promising striker snorting his career away. But as any Hearts fan will inform you, he’s just a fat junkie bastard.

The story was from the May 29th Edinburgh Evening News, written by Neil Pooran. Words were my own.


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