On Days Like These

I was buffeted from side to side, glad to be wearing a helmet as our little blue mini bumped down the steps at Park Circus followed by the white mini and the red mini and a little bit behind them, the green and grey armoured cars of Lawwell’s Stasi. Over kerbs and through red lights we went, screeching into Sauchiehall Street and racing the length of the road before mounting the pedestrian precinct and onto Buchanan Street, leading the Stasi cars a little circular dance as the minis orbited the tube station before veering off down a lane towards Queen Street Station.
‘You’re not going into the station, are you?’ I screamed at Souness just before he clipped the automatic doors entering the station, the other minis and the Stasi still tailing us.
‘Watch this,’ smiled Souness as he pulled the mini into a tight turn towards the George Street exit, reaching out the window and grabbing a coffee cup from an unsuspecting commuter then spilling it over me as we tumbled down the steps onto George Street.
‘Didn’t think that one through,’ he laughed as I squealed from the pain of a scalded lap.
Our little red white and blue minis then pirouetted around George Square and just as the sirens of the Stasi cars who had tailed us from Great Western Road seemed to be catching up and my bowels were carrying out the usual polka in anticipation of what Lawwell would do to me if I was found consorting with Souness again, we darted past the cenotaph and turned hard towards Ingram Street while behind us members of the Rangers 80s Squad Commandos appeared from nowhere pulling a ramp out the back of a truck - the Stasi cars couldn’t swerve or stop in time and they went hurtling up the ramp and twisted in the air before crashing into the main doors of the City Chambers.
‘Those Celtic goons will be quite at home in there,’ chortled Souness as we relaxed and made our way towards Murray Park and safety.