The queue snaked on and on, with many of those involved standing quietly, alone in their thoughts. They anticipated ecstasy or agony, but either way it looked like every supporter Morton possessed had rolled up to Firhill to face their team's fate head on. It was impressive.

When it was time to go home, dozens of them were still in the vicinity, singing, chanting, telling anyone within earshot that Morton were the best team in the universe, or words to that effect.

The bottom line was the Greenock team will again ply their trade in the first division next season, having scrambled into third-bottom slot by one goal from Clyde, who must now endure the beautiful game's version of Russian roulette, better known as the play-offs.

As regards happenings on the field of play at the weekend, well, it was hard to suffer - unless you happened to be wearing blue and white of course.

A football match it was not, because two teams have to turn up on the day for such a happening, and that was not the case on this occasion.

Morton scored three times, two goals from Brian Wake and one from Kevin Finlayson, but had it not to have been for the athleticism of Jonny Tuffey, the Thistle goalkeeper, the victory would have been far more comprehensive.

The home team started poorly and then deteriorated, and deteriorated, and deteriorated . . . ending up a complete and utter shambles. However, who cares about them, it was Morton's day and their players did them proud. They were first to every ball, won every tackle and scored three good goals.

Indeed, some of the local inhabitants would have had a case-iron case concerning noise abatement such was the racket their fans made long after the ball stopped bouncing.

When it had become evident that their league status had been assured, Davie Irons, the Morton manager, seemed to lead the celebrations, dancing a jig of delight in front of his club's rapturous supporters. And the more he threw his arms towards the heavens, the louder the bellowing from the away stands.

All of this to avoid the threat of relegation. Goodness knows what will happen should Morton actually win something.

It is difficult to imagine a lead-up to the season's final few weeks being less stressful for Irons, a quietly-spoken individual who seems to be thoroughly genuine.

He suffered the loss of his father a few weeks ago, which was major trauma for all concerned, but a corner has been turned and next year is being looked forward to with relish by Morton's people.

As for Thistle, they trotted out wearing bright new strips, then shuffled back indoors after having been completely thrashed.

Their manager, Ian McCall, stated his employees were "an utter disgrace". However, that was just about that. He simply shuffled away offering no reasons or excuses to his paying customers as to why the team he oversees and is supposed to motivate were so desperately poor.

Thistle, of course, want and crave more bums on seats on Saturday afternoons when Firhill is open for business.

On this latest showing, high-street shopping in driving rain, with a nail up a shoe would be more enjoyable.