Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad

 

We splashed through the tunnels for almost an hour in the pitch black, the only light coming from the occasional lighting of a cigarette by Albertz and every time he lit one, he'd contrive to blow smoke in my face. Every time. How did he know where I was in that stygian darkness? We came across the occasional slow mutant: lost Glasgow City Councillors, moaning and grappling to get a hold of us for what, food? We didn't stop to find out. Soon we reached the City Chambers which was empty of course, there being a Celtic match on, and we stepped into the light. What we saw had us scrambling for the dark again - there waiting for us was Torquemada, the Celtic minded super villain dressed head to toe in white robes with a pointed hood through which his green eyes glistened with hatred. He moved with lightning speed, aiming a punch at Albertz who disappeared as if he had never been there in the first place, and Torquemada turned to fix on me but I was haring back down the stairs and splashing along those dark tunnels, heading back to Parkhead, howling and fearing that I'd do a Hugh MacDonald and soil my corduroy pants.

I didn't stop running and by the time I reached the stairs to the Parkhead cleaning cupboard, I thought I'd lost him since I hadn't seen or heard a thing during my frantic flight but then the tunnel lit up in an eerie green glow and my heart sank as Torquemada appeared in front of me, his arms folded, robes billowing as he levitated at the bottom of the stairs. I sank to my knees and began to sob, there was no strength left in me to flee again down that disgusting tunnel and I was beginning to accept that it was the end of the road for old Graham Spiers, champion journalist and defender of the great oppressed when there was a crack of thunder and Master Mason appeared behind Torquemada, tapped him on the shoulder and as he fell for the oldest trick in the book and turned his head, Master Mason landed a punch such that would fell a mighty elephant and Torquemada's glow disappeared with him down the tunnel, landing with a crash miles away under the city centre. Master Mason looked at me and I saw those blazing blue eyes through the mask that covered his face, he winked at me and shot off into the darkness to pursue his mortal enemy. Well you didn't have to ask me twice so I was up and out of that tunnel in a twinkling and continued fleeing until I'd run all the way through Parkhead and in my panic, I fetched up in amongst the Green Brigade and that's how I came to be singing and dancing with them and how I came to have their superb banner stuffed up my corduroy jumper and ushered out of the ground to safety by sympathetic Celtic stewards.

As I made my way home I popped into the offices of the Scottish Times and gave the banner to the editor and it now has pride of place in his office. While I was there, I switched on the radio and listened to the rest of the Celtic match and wrote my piece right there and then, trying to hide what I was doing as the editor passed me on his way to dinner with John Reid. He sniggered. 'No one reads it anyway Spiers, I don't care if you're there or not,' and he left.