Walter's Last Stand

We heard them before we saw them, in fact we could smell them before we saw them, the angry hordes of a small Celtic Minded army marching on a secluded warehouse in the middle of some fields outside Newton Mearns. They were coming under the cover of darkness but the first wave was wearing those awful bumble bee away tops and presented an easy target for Souness's sharp shooters. Their numbers soon told though and it wasn't long before the Rangers 80s Squad Commandos were engaged in hand to hand as the BBC Scotland column, out of their heads on cocaine and their own unique hatred of Rangers, threw themselves onto the mealy bags. Souness stood above it all, a calm, reassuring voice above the madness, instructing his men and moving them to the flanks to meet the charge of the priestly flying squadron and take them at the bayonet, which is after all what the priests had been doing to their choir boys up until now.

Somewhere to the left I could hear the howls of the Traynor and his fellow freaks from King Bastard as they wrestled with Mark Falco and Graham Roberts and came off the worst. On our right the republican girls had forgotten why they were there and were being pumped by some spotty youths who were all that remained of the Green Brigade. It was at the centre though, that it all fell to pieces. Mad Joe O'Rourke came hurtling towards it in Lawwell's Panzer tank and knocked the mealy bags down, breaching the defensive wall. Everything looked lost as screeching Celtic fans poured through the breach but then a whistle blew and the doors to the warehouse opened and out came an army of mechanised Ally McCoists. The Celtic Minded army was no match for them and they fell away in the face of a concentrated assault by thinner, fitter, Allys all sporting curly mullets and wearing retro Rangers tops.

As the mop up operation began, Stuart Munro and Robert Fleck brought some prisoners into the warehouse and they were thrown to the floor in front of Donald Findlay and Martin Bain who resisted Graham Souness's suggestion that he take them behind the sheds and put bullets into their skulls - he's a blood thirsty one, that Souness. Pragmatic as ever, Findlay decided that these prisoners could do Celtic more damage if they were set free to wreak more havoc with their buffoonery on the outside world which outweighed any benefit of sticking them behind bars beside Jack and Bridget McConnell. So the Traynor, Joe O'Rourke who was still foaming at the mouth, Hugh MacDonald who as usual was creating a puddle where he stood and stinking the place up and a few others, were all let loose.

'Well then,' chuckled Findlay. 'You weren't expecting that after a meaningless Tuesday night old firm match, eh?' and everyone laughed. Except me. I knew I would still have to face the wrath of Lawwell sometime and it was obvious after being set up tonight by kindly old Walter, that I no longer had the protection of Rangers and all their agents. Bain allowed me to wait a while to allow the Traynor and his buddies' howling at the moon to fade into the darkness of the moors to make sure they'd gone home, and then I trudged dolefully out of the compound, leaving behind Graeme Souness and the Rangers 80s Squad Commandos, Bain, Findlay, Cosgrove and Walter with his curious collection of Ally McCoist replicas. I left them all and leaving them behind I became aware that I was now leaving with them, any feeling of safety I once had and that the future now held only awful and unforeseen horrors. I paused one last time at the edge of the field and looked back and felt a strange sensation of sadness that whatever spurious connection I once had with Rangers was now gone and I wondered one last time, how I was going to get back to the west end from here?





Spiers will return in the summer in Graham Spiers the Musical.