Well, never mind all of that. Welcome back, Deek Riordaninho – goal junkie.

In our heads, the yardages may have been increased and other past feats embellished, but our hearts can be trusted here. They tell us it's a good thing Derek Riordan has returned to Hibs. I've rarely seen so many Hibby grins as I have these past few days. All for a player who could sulk for Scotland.

How we've missed that Riordan mump! It was something to do with the shape of his moany wee face that he rarely smiled. It was also something to do with no-one else being able match his vision or cheek, not even when Hibs had a good team brimming with youthful swagger. First time round, Hibs got mumps and 20 goals a season out of Deek. Celtic only got the mumps.

Was he right to go to Parkhead? I'd have preferred him to have left Scotland to progress his career, like I would all talented strikers from the so-called diddy teams, because playing for Celtic and Rangers, where the goals are easier to come by, doesn't seem like any kind of development. But at the time I thought, fair enough, you're a homeboy, Gordon Strachan has the same north-Edinburgh background, it should work out, good luck – just don't hurt us with one of those thumping goals that belie your scrawny physique, which in a different age would have got you a job advertising the Official Charles Atlas Correspondence Course.

So why did it not happen for Riordan at Celtic? I'm sure if we could turn the clock back two seasons then both parties, manager and player, would do things differently. Strachan called Deek the best finisher at Celtic Park but gave him fewer first-team chances than the Kiwi clodhopper Chris Killen and others like Evander Sno who, although not strikers, would be chucked on late in preference to Riordan to save games.

But what do I know? Well, I do know this: Celtic, over the past few seasons, have played a different game to Hibs under Tony Mowbray and, initially at least, John Collins. By "different" I mean more sophisticated. This is perfectly provable through a combination of the National Weights and Measures Lab, my old school slide-rule and the number I first thought of.

Ultimately, then, Deek was in the wrong place. Of course Easter Road is not the place it was but we'll gloss over that. It's just great to have him back, glower and all, because he's the kind of player we love. He plays like his football used to be about dodging broken glass, turds, hardmen from the neighbouring scheme, the polis, parkies and stout housewifes seeking payment for broken windows (smashed deliberately – his aim was always true). A friend involved in boys' football reports that he once scored 199 goals in a single season for Pilton Sporting Club, including 14 in a cup final.

These are old, old stats. The one that follows him around now concerns the 21 Edinburgh nightclubs from which he's banned. I'm trying to see the positive in this, the way Groucho Marx might, but the truth is it's time Deek got back to doing what he does best. The winner in the next derby will do nicely – left foot or right, I really don't mind.