Earth spins on its axis largely because some natural phenomena remain constant, such as the planet's distance from the sun, its close relationship with the moon and the sure-fire knowledge that Montrose are pish at football.
Quite what Mother Earth makes of the Gable Endies sitting fourth (FOURTH!) in the Division Three table is anyone's guess. But I can't help but feel that the planet's recent passion for hurricanes, snow storms, monsoons, volcanoes and other such ostentatious displays of ferocity have something to do with Stuart Garden's men sitting in the play-off spots.
The fact that they're doing it with a squad that has lost Martin Boyle to the Dundee substitute's bench, but that is otherwise largely the same group of players that has toiled over the past four seasons, is surprising in itself (although any side able to remove the twin liabilities that were Messrs Smart and Cameron is probably on the road to redemption, even if Dougie is back as the new club mascot).
Today's performance over big-spending Peterhead (copyright every journalist who has covered the Balmoor side over the past 18 months) was another marked by hard graft across the whole squad, with a well-linked defence and midfield, and an industrious front line.
Garry Wood and Leighton McIntosh appear to be gelling well as a striking partnership, even if the latter player still seems averse to actually scoring goals. Wood was the key component of the attack today, scoring Montrose's first with a shot placed in the bottom corner in the fourth minute then creating the second when he beat Ryan Strachan and squared the ball for Terry Masson to sweep the ball into the net.
Jamie Winter may have toned down his need to play a Steven Gerrard-inspired Hollywood pass every time he gets the ball, but he's replaced the showboating with a previously-unseen work ethic. He's a real driving force in the middle of the park now, freeing Masson up to kick people and win his weekly yellow card.
Big Mad Lee Wilkie and his 3,000-yard stare also seem to be having an effect on the defence, possibly due to BMLW threatening to perform appendectomies on the players with his bare hands and no anaesthetic if they concede any goals. That would explain:
A) Why they kept a clean sheet today despite selecting Alan Campbell's Incredible Arthritic Knees alongside Jonathan 'Napoleon Dynamite' Crawford at centre back, even in the face of Peterhead ending the match with 17 strikers on the pitch.
B) Where Paul Lunan has been for the past few weeks.
Peterhead's squad really is filled with objectionable characters from front to back, from Ryan Strachan claiming that it was a "Peterheid baw" every time the ball went out of play, even those occasions when he had intentionally kicked it out of play; to mental David Cox, a player so disruptive he was sacked by Steven Tweed despite being a fairly decent footballer for a week or two; to the triumvirate of twats that is Robbie Winters, Martin Bavidge and Rory McAllister. Not since the days of van Hooijdonk, Cadete and Di Canio has one Scottish team fielded so many utter cunts in the same attack.
The visitors may have deployed those three ballsacks in an effort to break Montrose down, but it didn't work, Montrose displaying a grit and composure not normally associated with those donning the not-so-famous light blue shirts.
There's still a long way to go this season, and Montrose have played more games than every other team in Division Three. On the assumption that Rangers will win the title, there are half a dozen or maybe even more sides who will be looking for a play-off place.
That Montrose are even still in consideration with a third of the season gone speaks volumes for their improvement under Garden and BMLW. Long may it continue.
Editor's note: It has been brought to my attention that I have not been giving sufficient coverage to the witty insights, scintillating banter and just general awesomeness that I receive on a fortnightly basis from my press corps colleague.
I could remedy this by pointing out how much fun we have when I am forced to join the 267-mile pie queue at half time each week, even though I don't want anything, just so I can act as a banter receptor.
Or I could list the delightful and engaging conversations I am regularly dragged into, where all-too-frequent topics include the girth of Lee McCulloch's penis, famous Danish smack addict footballers and the merits of former footballer Barry Ferguson.
I could despair over being asked, ad infinitum, how much a corner flag costs, whether I think Sandy Wood is hot/big/cute/elegant and "what just happened?".
But I won't do that. None of it. I'll just post this picture drawn by my press colleague instead, as an insight into the world she inhabits.
Man of the Match: Another solid team performance today, with no-one disgracing themselves. Normally I'm inclined to go for attacking players when selecting my man of the match, and Garry Wood would have fitted the bill with a foot in both goals. But I actually thought that Alan Campbell had one of the best games I've seen him play, marhsalling the defence well even when Peterhead threw the kitchen sink at them in search of goals.