Secret Diary, Tuesday 1st December

It's been a slow few days which saw my column and match reports over the weekend pass without upsetting anyone. I figure that I'm stressed enough about all the Machiavellian intrigues I'm involved in just now without deliberately winding up the Rangers or pushing my luck with Lawwell. Events conspired to protect me anyway with Celtic winning and Rangers losing to Aberdeen so there was nothing much to do except report the facts - had it been the other way round then I'd have been duty bound to write about Rangers fans and their songs to distract from their win and a Celtic defeat.

While not working over the weekend I laid low at home, only occasionally leaving the flat to stalk the wife as she lived it up in town with Aamer Anwar and his clique. There was lots of dancing on tables and champagne being ordered and at the end of the night they all sang the Red Flag before jumping into chauffeur driven cars back to their west end townhouses while I trudged home in the cold, my collar up and hands thrust deep into the pockets of my corduroys. As I walked down Woodlands Road I heard a whisper from the trees in Kelvingrove park. I peered into the darkness and just as I was about to walk on, a figure stepped out from the shadows. It was Ewan Cameron. 'Spiers, I've got something for you' he said, looking around to check no one was listening. I followed him into the park where he began ranting about some great conspiracy.
'You've heard what happened to Hugh Keevins? No, no, no, he's not recovering - he's been replaced! I heard a rumour that he'd been savaged by Elaine C Smith during one of Lawwell's campaigns and they'd replaced him with an impersonator. Well the impersonator proved to be so much better than the original that Keevins is now sleeping with the fishes in the Clyde! The thing is though, I've chanced upon a terrible plan but have already been warned by Lawwell's agents that if I breath a word about it that I'll end up joining Keevins. You've got to help me Spiers, this plan is awful: the Scottish TUC have joined forces with the republican bhoys and they're going to kidnap the entire Hapoel Tel-Aviv squad and hold them to ransom until peace is reached in the middle east!'
'Christ, they'll be holding 'em a long time then.' I exclaimed.
'Yeah, they're not exactly an intelligent bunch but here's what they're going to do; they're going to dress up as arabs to snatch them while everyone is busy worrying about the Celtic fans waving their Palestinian flags at Parkhead on Wednesday.'
'Arabs?' I pondered aloud.
'I told you, they're a thick bunch - remember the time one of them invaded the pitch at Ibrox trying to get Rangers into trouble only this member of the brain trust forgot to remove his Pope t-shirt and was soon identified as an undercover Celtic man? Well this plan comes straight from the same mob.'
'So what do you want me to do about it?' I asked.
'Look Spiers, I've heard word that you have encountered the mythical Rangers 80s Squad Commandos, perhaps if you were to get word to them then they could do something about it? No one in Scotland wants to see this happen - well, no one in Scotland outside the STUC and Celtic want to see this happen. Get onto your contacts, let them know that the civic reception at the City Chambers is where the snatch will take place. You won't be able to miss them - they'll be wearing bed sheets and probably have their Celtic shirts on underneath them, the morons.'
And with that, Ewan Cameron turned and walked off into the darkness of Kelvingrove park. As he left I could only just make out him untying Alan Rough's leash from a fence and the pair of them toddled off into the night, stopping only occasionally for Alan Rough to cock a leg against some trees.