Pills, chills and bellyaches

Hearts, Hearts, inglorious Hearts. It's through a revolving door at Riccarton they go . . .

The boys in maroon are the talk of the toun again: another day, another Vladimir Romanov victim.

Graham Rix arrived suited and was booted at the club's training facility. For all their expertise in crisis management, their Riccarton training complex was a spin-free zone yesterday. If the unfolding drama is a shock to the Scottish system, spare a thought for the apparently endless list of players of various nationalities as they sought to digest it.

12.31pm Ibrahim Tall, reportedly one of the club's highest earners, but yet to kick a ball in anger, is first to run the media gauntlet. By the time he has wrestled with his English to muster a "no comment", the press pack – seeking a Jambo soundbite from anyone – has convened to debate his actual identity.

12.38pm A peely-wally Takis Fyssas makes his way to reception, oblivious to the reason why the nation's media are camped outside. "I do not know anything, I am sick," he protests, having been informed that Romanov had not challenged the media to a 40-a-side kickabout with his first-team surplus but had, in fact, binned his latest boss.

12.55pm Fyssas re-emerges, colour restored to his cheeks. Still no comment. "I have come to take my pills," he says, raising his prescription as proof. He is not the only one in need of urgent medical attention.

12.57–13.06pm A procession of players smirk, smile, scowl or snarl past the throng. Roman Bednar, sporting a new Travis Bickle mohican, does not so much ask "You lookin' at me?" as insist "You speaka to Elvis".

13.07pm José Gonçalves, Champions League regular for FC Thun, but Midlothian MIA, relishes the chance of attention. "I heard the manager say goodbye, but did not understand why until a team-mate explained," he says. "I do not know what is happening." Join the club.

13.10pm Michal Pospisil gives a startling insight into, well, his own state of mind. "I don't know if I can speak."

13.14pm Enter statesmanlike Steven Pressley to address the nation: "Deja vu, chaps."

Hearts, Hearts, inglorious Hearts. It's through a revolving door at Riccarton they go . . .

The boys in maroon are the talk of the toun again: another day, another Vladimir Romanov victim.

Graham Rix arrived suited and was booted at the club's training facility. For all their expertise in crisis management, their Riccarton training complex was a spin-free zone yesterday. If the unfolding drama is a shock to the Scottish system, spare a thought for the apparently endless list of players of various nationalities as they sought to digest it.

12.31pm Ibrahim Tall, reportedly one of the club's highest earners, but yet to kick a ball in anger, is first to run the media gauntlet. By the time he has wrestled with his English to muster a "no comment", the press pack – seeking a Jambo soundbite from anyone – has convened to debate his actual identity.

12.38pm A peely-wally Takis Fyssas makes his way to reception, oblivious to the reason why the nation's media are camped outside. "I do not know anything, I am sick," he protests, having been informed that Romanov had not challenged the media to a 40-a-side kickabout with his first-team surplus but had, in fact, binned his latest boss.

12.55pm Fyssas re-emerges, colour restored to his cheeks. Still no comment. "I have come to take my pills," he says, raising his prescription as proof. He is not the only one in need of urgent medical attention.

12.57–13.06pm A procession of players smirk, smile, scowl or snarl past the throng. Roman Bednar, sporting a new Travis Bickle mohican, does not so much ask "You lookin' at me?" as insist "You speaka to Elvis".

13.07pm José Gonçalves, Champions League regular for FC Thun, but Midlothian MIA, relishes the chance of attention. "I heard the manager say goodbye, but did not understand why until a team-mate explained," he says. "I do not know what is happening." Join the club.

13.10pm Michal Pospisil gives a startling insight into, well, his own state of mind. "I don't know if I can speak."

13.14pm Enter statesmanlike Steven Pressley to address the nation: "Deja vu, chaps."

Hearts, Hearts, inglorious Hearts. It's through a revolving door at Riccarton they go . . .

The boys in maroon are the talk of the toun again: another day, another Vladimir Romanov victim.

Graham Rix arrived suited and was booted at the club's training facility. For all their expertise in crisis management, their Riccarton training complex was a spin-free zone yesterday. If the unfolding drama is a shock to the Scottish system, spare a thought for the apparently endless list of players of various nationalities as they sought to digest it.

12.31pm Ibrahim Tall, reportedly one of the club's highest earners, but yet to kick a ball in anger, is first to run the media gauntlet. By the time he has wrestled with his English to muster a "no comment", the press pack – seeking a Jambo soundbite from anyone – has convened to debate his actual identity.

12.38pm A peely-wally Takis Fyssas makes his way to reception, oblivious to the reason why the nation's media are camped outside. "I do not know anything, I am sick," he protests, having been informed that Romanov had not challenged the media to a 40-a-side kickabout with his first-team surplus but had, in fact, binned his latest boss.

12.55pm Fyssas re-emerges, colour restored to his cheeks. Still no comment. "I have come to take my pills," he says, raising his prescription as proof. He is not the only one in need of urgent medical attention.

12.57–13.06pm A procession of players smirk, smile, scowl or snarl past the throng. Roman Bednar, sporting a new Travis Bickle mohican, does not so much ask "You lookin' at me?" as insist "You speaka to Elvis".

13.07pm José Gonçalves, Champions League regular for FC Thun, but Midlothian MIA, relishes the chance of attention. "I heard the manager say goodbye, but did not understand why until a team-mate explained," he says. "I do not know what is happening." Join the club.

13.10pm Michal Pospisil gives a startling insight into, well, his own state of mind. "I don't know if I can speak."

13.14pm Enter statesmanlike Steven Pressley to address the nation: "Deja vu, chaps."

Taken from the Herald