The name-calling has to stop.

It's puerile, infantile, and not in keeping with an elite, professional, sporting body.

Whoever said names would never hurt them was wrong.

Sticks and stones may well break ones bones, and a rose is a rose is a rose.

But Collingwood, Olympic park is not a Rose!

And it is certainly not a Lexus Bob Rose.

Not only is this bullying push to mangle the time-honoured moniker of an historical edifice ill advised, it is also ill informed.

I have it on good authority that Bob Rose never even drove a Lexus, let alone owned one, and would be horrified to learn his down-to-earth, rootsy, everyman persona was being posthumously associated with a prestige luxury vehicle.

Which I believe comes with free air.

Which is apt, as that is what seems to be occupying the headspace of the arrogant Collingwood administration.

I wonder if it comes with free rocks?

For that would be even more apt!

Sure, you've spent a bundle on contemporising and renovating the place...

More power to you. Your choice.

But the name remains the same.

What if the little old lady down the road crocheted doilies for the dining rooms at the Docklands, and painted the ladies loos at her own expense? Would that give her the right to rename it the Mrs Kafoops dunny and doily dome?

No, I didn't think so.

And who is standing by idly as the magpies go giddily goose-stepping their way to eroding tradition?

You've got it. The League.

Come on Andrew, get your house in order. Come down swiftly and firmly on anyone preparing to pilfer the people's precincts improperly. Call a spade a spade before push comes to shovel and you're buried beneath the chilly sod of public resentment.

Act swiftly. Act now.

And magpies, if you're so keen to start a re-name campaign, then clarity begins at home.

Collingwoodenspoon rings as clear as a bell.

I'm Billy and I'm boiling.