Behind Dead Eyes

Crickets and dead-eyed men. At the beginning of this season I wondered what fresh madness would seek me out and it turned out to be crickets and dead-eyed men. At least I know what I’m dealing with, unlike other seasons. The crickets herald the presence of some mysterious creature of the night the Scottish media refer to in hushed tones as Spring Heeled Jack who has taken to breaking up anti-Rangers conspiracies and punishing most of BBC Scotland while he’s doing it. The dead-eyed men, well Albertz claimed they’re warnings of things to come if this Offensive Behaviour at Football Bill is brought into being.

I was all for it at first, witness my idiot antics at the Justice Committee when the Scottish Executive sought out the expert opinions of, well me and Pat Nevin. Queen Margaret Pat had told his one anecdote about a Rangers Chelsea match and I chuntered on in the usual oafish manner until that bastard Stuart Waiton started flicking my ears and whispering loud enough for just me to hear that I was a dangerous moron.

Then I changed my mind and I was against the Bill. This was after a night with the Green Brigade in the Brazen Head where everyone showed the barman their IDs before settling down to tell me how it was a terrible Bill which might bring parity to the old firm in the eyes of the law. The fact that there was potential to greatly reduce the freedoms of all in Scotland didn’t seem to bother them, just that they’d now be in the spotlight and not just the Rangers fans. So I immediately went home and spunked a congratulatory column for the Times, praising the Green Brigade, that group of religious and political extremists who brought us Poppygate and other outrages based on their current freedom to sing offensive songs in support of murdering Irish terrorist groups. No wonder they didn’t like the sound of this bill, they were getting away with everything up until now while only the Rangers fans were being demonised by a vested interest political media complex.

Then I was faced with a difficult situation: the Rangers fans appeared at Ibrox with banners protesting against the bill and since I’d spoken up for the Green Brigade, it was only natural I should praise the Blue Order too, wasn’t it? This is obviously what a lot of people thought I should do which prompted the phone call from Peter Lawwell reminding me that he had a nice empty dungeon waiting for me in Parkhead if I dared even think about it. Then I got a visit from Jorg Albertz.

I was sitting on my own in the Chip, considering how best to ignore the good intentions of the Rangers fans when I heard a cough from the table to my left. I looked and there was no one there but when I turned back to my appletini Albertz was sitting beside me to my right. He smiled, ‘Hello Spiers. I think you and I need to take a walk.’

We left the Chip and sauntered down to Byres Road where I noticed to my dismay, the dead-eyed men standing staring at the entrance to the Hillhead tube station. ‘Let’s join them,’ said Albertz and we stood by their sides and looked at the door to the underground. ‘What are we looking at?’ I asked but Albertz shooshed me and as he did, the dead-eyed men took our hands and suddenly we were surrounded by an eerie mist which briefly obscured our view and when it cleared it was night time. There were bagpipes playing in the distance and the sound of celebrating. Someone came out of the station holding up an early edition of the Daily Record, its headline cried out ‘Freedom! Scots vote yes.’

Then we were surrounded by mist again which eventually cleared to reveal a queue of football fans waiting to get into the subway but none of them were wearing colours. There were police keeping an eye on them and then one of the police spotted a Rangers scarf sticking out of a coat pocket. He strode over to the fan and pulled the scarf from him, waving it in his face and screaming. Then the fan was dragged out of the queue and bundled into a van and no one said a word in protest. Then the mist swirled around us again.

It dissipated and there was a mounted policeman in front of us only it looked much different to the type I’m used to seeing; the horse was covered in light armour as was the mounted policeman. I looked around Byres Road and noticed that Curlers the pub was boarded up, a poster nailed to the door saying ‘by order the Scottish Government’. More police came into view but they too were different, wearing full body armour, their faces hidden by the dark visors of their helmets as if they were riot police but no, they seemed to be just normal bobbies on the beat. We heard a scream and turned to see a woman having been knocked over by the police horse. There was a commotion as her partner complained but the mounted policeman snarled, ‘Jay walking is a crime, maybe she’ll stay on the pavement in future?’
‘Your bloody horse was in the way, how could she stay on the pavement?’ shouted someone else but the cop swung his horse’s hind around and knocked him to the ground and the two helmeted bobbies ran over and rained truncheon blows down on the man and the woman. As the mist appeared once more I noticed the road signs and posters stuck to the wall of the underground; the speed limit on Byres Road was 20, the signs said, ‘The Scottish Government: reducing speed for your health and safety.’

Then we were back. The pub was open again and a portly fellow walked past wearing a Celtic top. There was a policemen across the road wearing a normal tunic and a ridiculous hi-vis vest but he was smiling and giving directions. I turned to Albertz and gasped, ‘What in hell’s name was that?’
‘That was the future, Spiers. Well, one of many futures. The future depends, you see? Depends on the choice you and many others like you make very soon. Ask yourself this, what side are you on? The side of oppression or do you believe in freedom of speech? It’s that simple. This new bill can lead to abuse beyond your very limited imagination, that’s why I had to get the twins here to show you.’
I looked around for them but there was only one now. ‘What happened to the other one?’ I asked.
‘Oh yes, I was about to tell you this. Taking someone into the future like that has a cost, Mayer paid that cost. He’s gone now. And his brother has a very good reason for hating you even more. I’d step carefully if I were you, Spiers.’
‘But I didn’t ask him to make that sacrifice.’
‘No, but you’re asking the Scottish people to sacrifice something far greater so you can lay the boot into the fans of one football team just because they represent something you and all the other culturally Marxist west end elite resent. Your mission to rid Scotland of the infinitesimal problem of sectarianism has a price. That price is freedom.’

Behind us someone shouted abuse at me, I turned to look down my nose at them and then when I looked around again, Albertz and Janowitz were gone, leaving me in a daze. I felt dizzy and was beginning to wonder if I was having a panic attack then someone told me to ‘step back onto the pavement sir.’ It was the policeman from across the road. I stepped up onto the kerb and sat down, my head in my hands.
‘Are you alright sir?’ asked the cop.
‘Yes. Yes, I’m alright. At least for now.’