Kidnapped

It wasn't until we got to the end of the secret tunnel linking Celtic Park to the City Chambers that Jorg Albertz turned to me, pulled deeply on his cigarette, blew smoke in my face and reminded me of the last time we'd run for our lives through the dank and horrible place.

'Whatever happened to Master Mason? Remember he rescued us just as Peter Kearney was about to render us unto the Holy Inquisition?'
'Don't know Jorg, haven't seen him since that business in Kelvingrove Park - makes you wonder, eh?'
Richard Gough butted in, 'Keep it quiet you two, we're passing the Council Chamber now, too much noise and we'll have the Glasgow Labour Celtic Militia down on our heads and the last thing we need right now is a fight with men in cheap suits and emerald green ties.'
I looked over at Peter Lawwell who was with us if you remember, having been taken along with Neil Lennon after Albertz disabled the demon within Lennon to allow us to take him away for an exorcism, and Lawwell just smiled that lazy eyed psycho smile of his which usually indicated that someone was going to be given a thrashing with his horse whip but he wasn't in the company of the cowardly Scottish media now, or politicians wanting to keep their VIP days at Parkhead - no, he was with Richard Gough, ex-Captain of HMS the Walter Smith, now mysterious captain of the freebooting Nautilus; and Jorg Albertz, Demon Hunter. Oh, and of course me, Graham Spiers, scourge of Rangers and defiant crusader against sectarianism (just as long as it's not Celtic fans).

We emerged onto George Square, the four of us pusing an unconscious Neil Lennon in a wheelbarrow, and Gough hailed a taxi. The driver looked at Lennon in the barrow and chortled,
'Pissed again? Jeez, does that man never learn? You'd think in the current climate he'd be lying low but no, he's out every night getting rat arsed and growling at people in pubs - I've helped him out my taxi three times already this week!'
'This isn't working,' said Gough. 'We can't leave so obvious a trail - Jorg, be a good fellow and steal us a car.'
Albertz sidled over to a nearby BMW and had it open in a twinkling and next thing you know we're haring across Glasgow, Gough driving with Lawwell beside him and me and Albertz in the back with Lennon sitting between us, out for the count.  Sometimes I think about the fankles I get myself into and consider if I'd be better just finding another job but then there aren't many out there for pompous sneaks with divinity degrees.