The Time Machine

Back before all this happened, if someone had said to me, 'Spiers old sport, don't go accusing Rangers of cheating on Twitter, it could come back to bite you on the arse if they win the tax case' then I'd probably have ignored them.  I know myself you see and I'm sure I'd have cocked a snook at anyone trying to give me advice; me, Graham Spiers who knows everything and wanders through life with a permanent sneer on his lips reserved for fellow members of the inky trade.  Inky trade, if only these days.  No, I'm stuck with an online column for the Herald - one of the few Celtic Minded newspapers who'd have me these days, it was either that or the Daily Mail or as we call it in the trade: Celtic's PR Dept. but they're chockablock with sports journalists who can't type properly because their Celtic scarves get in the way of the keyboard.

Anyway, I'd have ignored that advice and more fool me because this week Rangers won the tax case and all my tweets of the past year are not only biting me on the arse, they're queuing up to roger it senseless.  To make matters worse I denied I'd ever said it and live on television too so when through a series of curious events I fetched up sprawled on the floor of Peter Lawwell's time machine along with Souness, Devine and Lawwell himself, I figured that this wouldn't be so bad - perhaps I could go back in time and change things and if not, then at least I'd be hidden from the hoots and howls of hilarity at my faux pas on Scotland Tonight.

As Donald Findlay stepped into the room holding one of Lawwell's goons at pistol-point in front of him, we seemed to have our quorum and the blue room, already buzzing and twitching like me when faced with the grinning face of Chris Graham, began to vibrate and pound until a blinding light dazzled the room and we all fell unconscious.

'Oh well fucking done, Donald,' said Lawwell as we came to.  'You do realise by smashing your cane off that control panel you've sent us into the future, don't you?'

'Blast,' exclaimed Findlay.  'And here was me thinking I was turning on the Christmas lights' and he chortled and eyed up the room.