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Thistle took the opportunity to launch yet another new marketing slogan today - coming less than a year, let's not forget, than the Real Scottish Football initiative they pushed over the summer.

Partick Thistle: 100% Football, 100% Passion, it proclaims.

Really? Because today we were playing at barely 50%. And perhaps if the board spent more time finding investment and giving McCall a playing squad deeper than just 17 names, and less thinking up ever-more ridiculously stupid ways to promote the club, we'd not be in the mess we're in.

Well, what can I say?

In front of a pathetically small crowd - and one largely populated by the right kind of Jag, too - we succumbed, as we always did, to a side with a lethal edge in front of goal.

Ok, I'll be honest off the bat. I never got to the game.

My track record with the derby matches has been pretty shonky since I moved back up north - unlike Thistle's, which has been pretty damn spectacular.

We've now avoided defeat, or enjoyed a comfortable gubbing of the Broadwood Big Issue sellers, for seven games on the spin - two whole years of lording it over them.

But I've not seen us win at Broadwood. Never. I've either not been able to make it (which is invariably when we win) or we've been spanked like Max Mosley after a particularly enjoyable evening of grown up entertainment.

Watching Thistle is a frustrating habit. For when we are good, we are very very good. And when we are bad, we're infuriating. And against Livingston, we were very very bad and very very good.

There was a ridiculous rant at the Thistle support last weekend on the Jags Forum. Not by rival supporters, not by the Jags Ultras... but by the club's customer services bod, who slagged off the supporters in the rechristened shed end for not singing enough against Queen of the South.

Now, I know I congratulated the Queens support last weekend for bringing the noise with them, but for an official representative of the club to criticise its fans, on the back of a losing streak the width of the river Kelvin, shows everything that remains wrong about the hierarchy at the club.

That said, the perfect response came firing back at said moaner yesterday, as the Clyde fans - in good voice early on - found themselves outsung by Section 7. The childrens end. Yes, the sight of our young support outsqueeking the Gypsie hoards in the Viagra stand only adds to a perfect day.

You know sometimes you get a player on the other team, and they just annoy you. Annoy you to the point of apoplexy. To the point where you hope someone just scythes them down and ends their afternoon. Not permanently injuring them or anything - but enough to make sure you don't have to see them again.

Jamie McQuilken take a bow.

Tremendous stat on the Jags Forum recently. Since Resolution finally pulled their finger out and decided what their new name would be - Ignis - we've not won a game.

To be fair to Airdrie United - both fans and team - clearly they wanted a slot in the Gaelic Bread cup final far more than our hapless bunch of wasters did.

Do I sound bitter? Possibly. But after sitting through one of the worst displays by a Thistle side I've endured in a decade and a half at the Theatre of Farce, it's hard to find any positives.

Thankfully today it's only my throat which is goosed, and not my typing ability. I'm not sure if you can blog yourself hoarse, although after last night, I'm willing to give it a try.

When I interviewed Christopher Brookmyre for the Row Z Podcast a couple of weeks ago, the St Mirren man and I started talking about Ian Maxwell, who joined the Jags from Love Street in the summer. Chris opined that he was a good, faithful servant and a reliable pro, and seemed vaguely surprised to see him leave the club.

After watching his performances this season, I don't blame him. St Mirren's loss is very much our gain, and he could yet be the difference between second and first this season.