As Time Goes By

I was just beginning to enjoy myself again having hooked up with two old friends in the Polo Lounge, Hedy Lamarr and Googie Withers. They were all over me and I’d just said that I could really go for a couple of old fashioned girls like them and they’d giggled coquettishly and asked if I’d ever seen the Crying Game when all of a sudden there was a commotion at the door and a steward approached me.
‘Sorry Graham, there’s a weirdo at the door wanting to come in but we knocked him back and now he’s saying he’s a friend of yours. Do you want to come and see?’

I followed the steward to the entrance and there was Alex Thomson, holding up his ID and shouting, ‘I’m Alex Thomson of Channel 4 News, this ID gets me in anywhere – don’t you know who I am?’
‘It doesn’t get you into Glasgow’s premier gay night spot, mate so turn it down, eh?’ said another doorman, barring Thomson’s entry.
‘Gay night spot?’ asked Thomson.
‘No! No no no no no…’ I cried and strode through the melee of stewards and curious queens, took Thomson by the shoulder and led him away from the club and down Virginia Street.
‘Well it might be,’ I continued. ‘Not that I’ve noticed. I only go in there for the quality of the cock… tails! The quality of the cocktails. Plus I’m investigating the possibility that there might be gay footballers in Glasgow.'
‘And there’s an issue with gay footballers because?’ asked Thomson, frowning.
‘I don’t know, I only do what I’m told and since I was sacked from the Times I’ve had to take a wage where I can get it and Flourish pays good money to people ready to demonise the gay community. My goodness, they really hate the gays, that lot.’
‘What lot? Flourish, isn’t that the newspaper of the Catholic church in Glasgow?’
‘No! Oh dear, I’ve said too much already,’ I cried and waved down a handom cab and jumped in but Thomson followed me.
‘Is this a horse and carriage?’ he asked, bewildered.
‘Yes, why?’
‘What have I got myself into? What kind of madness is this?’ he asked himself, clutching his press ID to his chest and looking fearful. ‘I just hope I don’t get dragged into it, I just hope I’m not assimilated into this way of life – it can happen you know, to a roving reporter for Channel 4 News, have I told you I work for Channel 4 News? Oh god, I just hope I don’t piss away my hard earned reputation on this job.’

He looked out of the window of the cab as the sound of horses hooves clattered down cobbled streets while in the distance we could hear the plaintive howling of what he thought was a deranged dog but I knew was the Traynor as it sensed something awful in the air. What could it be? Were Rangers not going to die after all? Would they drag themselves out of all their current woes and come back stronger than ever? Perhaps with the help of this gullible fool Thomson, I could ensure that doesn’t happen and earn myself a place back at Lawwell’s table and by extension, be allowed to work for a Scottish newspaper again in the sports department.

‘Tell you what Thomson,’ I exclaimed, jovially. ‘Let’s you and I be friends and I’ll give you an insight into what’s really going on in Scottish society and how it’s all Rangers’ fault. Then I’ll introduce you to some of my acquaintances who can provide you with some fascinating material for your reports. You know, I think this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’