As the question was posed at the Tony Macaroni Arena following a comprehensive 3-0 victory over Livingston, an impish smile spread across Michael Beale's face. Had the manager heard Chris Sutton's responses to his barbed comments in midweek?

"No I think we'll leave that where it is..." There was the briefest of pauses before he continued, clearly unable to resist. "Listen, I love him as much as he loves me. Tell him that."

These will surely be Beale's final words in a spat that has dominated the news agenda since he filleted the former Celtic striker and BT Sport pundit on Thursday. I'm told the assembled written press didn’t have to probe Beale too hard to get the quotes that set social media ablaze. In fact, they didn’t even need to mention his name.

Beale said: “Listen, there are pundits and ex-players that are comedy acts. They are there to create intrigue. They don’t speak about the betterment of the game, they don’t help our game at all. All they do is bring it back down to the gutter.”

He added: “Growing up, I was a fan of Chelsea. So there is one pundit around here who is the worst-ever player to play for Chelsea. That is why I won’t mention his name because I try to forget him.”

It’s likely the Rangers manager has been looking to let off steam for some time, probably since his arrival in 2018 when he first set eyes and ears on the Sutton in Scotland brand. While the tabloid columnist was typically provocative in questioning Beale’s decision to allow Partick Thistle to already famously equalise in controversial circumstances, by his standards, the comments were reasonably tame. No, this is clearly animus that’s developed over time - and it’s not hard to imagine why.

While Sutton’s punditry down south, which also sees him advocate diligently for more research and protection against concussions, has seen him nominated for awards, a different persona emerges when he's north of Hadrian’s Wall. While always a provocateur, his analysis has moved from harmless bluster to deeply irresponsible territory this season, asking whether Celtic would have been treated the same as Rangers over a penalty controversy after the last Old Firm game. 

If you felt Sutton genuinely thought there might be a bias against his old club - like a couple of his more gormless colleagues - you’d be more inclined to simply laugh it all off. However, that’s not the case. Even his arch-critics concede he’s nobody's fool, far too worldly to buy into such obvious claptrap. His playing up to the insidious trope of an anti-Celtic agenda in the SFA could have real-life consequences - just ask Hugh Dallas whose windows were caved in following a notorious Old Firm clash back in 1999. In Glasgow, you don’t need to chase storms, they arrive at your front door, threatening to blow it off its hinges.

Of course, Sutton doesn't actually live here to face the consequences. He throws around grenades then heads back down the road to let others deal with the fallout. That he then has the brass neck to host a BBC documentary on the potential violence and abuse referees face in the grassroots game only underlines the dichotomy of his character. 

And this is the heart of the problem. There are two Chris Suttons. In England, the barbs are clipped back, the rhetoric is dialled down and most of the nonsense is left at the door. He knows such absurdity would be frowned upon in England where the competition for high-profile gigs is more fierce. So what is this change of character all about and what does it say about Scottish football that Sutton successfully adopts this dialled-up persona?

READ MORE: Rangers boss Michael Beale was right to fillet Chris Sutton

The conundrum brings to mind a scene in Quentin Tarantino’s 2004 film Kill Bill. In it, the titular character tries to explain the psychology of another who adopts two identities. Bill, played by David Carradine, uses the life of Superman as a metaphor and posits that the comic book hero's cowardly, bumbling alter ego Clark Kent acts as the Kryptonian's critique of the human race. 

In the same way, you can’t help feeling that the Scottish version of Sutton stands as his comment on Scottish football culture: unsophisticated, reactive to manufactured controversy, open to conspiracy and less interested in the game itself than the largely irrelevant, tribal theatre around it. 

Perhaps he’s got a point. After all, he’s been successful in building a career after all, has a handsomely remunerated newspaper column, a slot on TV and looks to be in high demand. We are still talking about him, and I'm here writing about him, an outcome that many would tell you is the sign of a good pundit.

All this calls to mind another film, Martin Scorsese's Wolf of Wall Street. After a gloriously entertaining 3-hour bacchanal of booze, sex, cocaine and worse the film ends with its odious main character Jordan Belfort in a plum new role as a motivational speaker. The final shot sees the camera pan around to show a full auditorium, the audience rapt.

It's the ultimate cinematic rug-pull - who's to blame for this man, Scorsese asks, him or the culture we've all played a part in that allows him to thrive and prosper?