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The Captain and Parkhead at Parkhead
- Thread starter Captain Shamrock
- Start date
Rangerforever
Well-Known Member
Well done to Celtic.
To go the whole year without losing to them is a desire but unfortunately reasonability and reality will always prevail.
Too bad as by all accounts the 'Gers couldn't make it interesting and appeared to be fcuking useless.
I almost don't want to watch the repeat on Tuesday from what I'm hearing.
Anyhoo, good on the Captain and Parkhead making the tube.
They must have been in their glory.
Cnuts.
I remember watching a Euro '96 Scotland match and at half time I look at the Tartan Army and who do I see?
Graham fcuking Brown.
Parkheed and The Captain just got to enjoy what most can only dream about.
Well done bhoys, enjoy the Savoy.
To go the whole year without losing to them is a desire but unfortunately reasonability and reality will always prevail.
Too bad as by all accounts the 'Gers couldn't make it interesting and appeared to be fcuking useless.
I almost don't want to watch the repeat on Tuesday from what I'm hearing.
Anyhoo, good on the Captain and Parkhead making the tube.
They must have been in their glory.
Cnuts.
I remember watching a Euro '96 Scotland match and at half time I look at the Tartan Army and who do I see?
Graham fcuking Brown.
Parkheed and The Captain just got to enjoy what most can only dream about.
Well done bhoys, enjoy the Savoy.
Rangerforever
Well-Known Member
You are what you eat they say.
Still 3 up
Still 3 up
I received a phone call from The Edge Bar in George Square.
Fastshow, Saint, Mrs.Saint, The Captain and Parkhead were all enjoying themselves to say the least. The Captain confirmed their location in Paradise and mentioned that Parkhead fed all the fish in the Irish Sea from Belfast to Glasgow. A good time was had by all,....who mattered.
Yes Rangers are 3 up but don't forget the Champions have a game in hand.
Bring on the 'pool!!!
Fastshow, Saint, Mrs.Saint, The Captain and Parkhead were all enjoying themselves to say the least. The Captain confirmed their location in Paradise and mentioned that Parkhead fed all the fish in the Irish Sea from Belfast to Glasgow. A good time was had by all,....who mattered.
Yes Rangers are 3 up but don't forget the Champions have a game in hand.
Bring on the 'pool!!!
Hands of Stone
New Member
Glad to Hear that Mrs. Saint is There
If they do get into any scraps with Pissed-Off Ranger supporters later, they will be safe with Mrs.Saint there. Toughest chick on TTP, sorry SC, she could take you, but I would love to see it happen.
When can we get the PIC of Captian and Parkhead from the game, that is classic.
HOS
Still3UP
If they do get into any scraps with Pissed-Off Ranger supporters later, they will be safe with Mrs.Saint there. Toughest chick on TTP, sorry SC, she could take you, but I would love to see it happen.
When can we get the PIC of Captian and Parkhead from the game, that is classic.
HOS
Still3UP
Captain Shamrock
Well-Known Member
- Thread starter
- #67
Well I'm certainly glad to be back. It was the most amazing experience watching the Celtic WIN over Rangers. When all the Celtic fans were singing the Fields of Athenry just before kick-off while holding up their scarves, it brought tears to my eyes. The atmosphere was second to none. The football was average but Celtic's commitment to shutting Rangers down was great. There were the usual wreckless challenges, and despite the fact there was only one goal in the game, I didn't think it was a poor as all the Rangers' followers have already mentioned. The funniest thing that I noticed during the game was when any of the Celtic fans were walking by us to go and get a pie or a drink, they would nonchalantly(without even looking at them) give all the Rangers' fans a simple two fingered salute. They would never break stride and would continue having a conversation with the person and would never forget the two fingered salute. The Rangers' fans wouldn't sit down the whole game because the seats are green. It's too bad they didn't have anything to cheer about.
We then went on the longest walk of our lives and eventually found Morrison's Bar where we met Fasty, Saint, and Ms. Saint. We stayed there for a few pints and then found another venue. I was dressed to the nines, wearing my Umbro track pants and new New Balance runners. On top, I was wearing the SDSS soccer sweatshirt. Fasty, Saint, and Ms. Saint were all very impressed with the attire. Who can blame them?
After going to The Edge(I think that's what it was called), we decided to go for a curry. I can't believe we were not thrown out. People started throwing curry and spitting water at each other. Actually, it was Saint and Parkhead. Okay, it might have been me but let's not focus on that. The language was shoc-king from our table and the table beside us were complaining to the staff BUT they wouldn't throw us out. After this, it was time for Saint,Fasty, and Ms. Saint to head back to Edinburgh(they could have stayed in East Kilbride but chose not to). Before arriving at the train station, we managed to see one of the six murders that took place in Glasgow, which is of course the safest city in Europe, according to a recent poll. It was actually a shitty way to finish a great day and night.
Parkhead, the Captain, and Blair then decided to go to a Celtic bar, despite the fact the Blair actually supports Rangers. It was the most disgusting place I have EVER been to. It was a fcuking mess everywhere, especially the bathroom, which had about two inches of water/piss on the floor, blood all over the sinks, and pint glasses EVERYWHERE. We had one bottle of beer(we heard that they actually recycle any beer that is left in pint glasses) and decided to go back to East Kilbride. This was only 20 pounds.
Following is a list of things I discovered/learned/ while in Belfast/Glasgow, and it is in no particular order.....
1) People love sitting in heat that would make the Sahara Desert seem cold
2) About 80% of the population smoked, including Fasty.
3) Celtic are a MUCH BETTER team than Rangers(this was just proven on the weekend)
4) It was very expensive. Things that might cost us $5, would cost 5 pounds.
5) Most people I met in Belfast were semi-retired, yet seemed to have plenty of money to bet on horses and buy many pints, at 1:00 everyday.
6) Parkhead is an absolutely amazing place to watch a match.
7) The Troon to Belfast ferry ride is extremely frightening.
8) People park anywhere they want. Sidewalks are for parking apparently, not walking.
9) Belfast has a lot of beautiful women, but a many of them have fairly large arses, thanks to their outstanding diet. Fortunately, most of them also have big Man Cities.
10) There are NO British soldiers on the streets at all right now. Unfortunately, there are very few police offers too. We only saw FOUR police vehicles in 4 days.
11) The streets have dog shite all over them but fortunately I was able to steer clear.
12) It is not a good idea to drink for 18 hours before flying to Vancouver, and not get any sleep.
13) The airplane's bathrooms are a very difficult place to barf in because of the size. I still managed though..
14) Tip a flight attendant(male) and he will bring you as many beers as you want the rest of the flight despite there being a 'restriction'.
15) I met a girl named Aletha on the plane. It is not a good idea to say, "Oh, I thought your name was Alisa and you had a lisp." Thank goodness she had a good sense of humor.
16) "Al knak the fcukin cnut outdya." is a popular phrase
17) There are bars on ferries and they start serving at 7:00 am, when the ferry leaves.
18) I am quite tall in Belfast for the most part. Parkhead was a giant.
19) I couldn't pick any fcuking winners in the horse races, much like on Willhill.....
20) Never mix homemade wine, Smirnoff Ice, Stella Artois, and Carling beer.....
I'm sure Parkhead, Saint, and Fasty will be able to add a few things that I forgot or can't recall......
Captain
It's too bad they didn't have anything to cheer about. We then went on the longest walk of our lives and eventually found Morrison's Bar where we met Fasty, Saint, and Ms. Saint. We stayed there for a few pints and then found another venue. I was dressed to the nines, wearing my Umbro track pants and new New Balance runners. On top, I was wearing the SDSS soccer sweatshirt. Fasty, Saint, and Ms. Saint were all very impressed with the attire. Who can blame them?
After going to The Edge(I think that's what it was called), we decided to go for a curry. I can't believe we were not thrown out. People started throwing curry and spitting water at each other. Actually, it was Saint and Parkhead. Okay, it might have been me but let's not focus on that. The language was shoc-king from our table and the table beside us were complaining to the staff BUT they wouldn't throw us out. After this, it was time for Saint,Fasty, and Ms. Saint to head back to Edinburgh(they could have stayed in East Kilbride but chose not to). Before arriving at the train station, we managed to see one of the six murders that took place in Glasgow, which is of course the safest city in Europe, according to a recent poll. It was actually a shitty way to finish a great day and night.
Parkhead, the Captain, and Blair then decided to go to a Celtic bar, despite the fact the Blair actually supports Rangers. It was the most disgusting place I have EVER been to. It was a fcuking mess everywhere, especially the bathroom, which had about two inches of water/piss on the floor, blood all over the sinks, and pint glasses EVERYWHERE. We had one bottle of beer(we heard that they actually recycle any beer that is left in pint glasses) and decided to go back to East Kilbride. This was only 20 pounds.
Following is a list of things I discovered/learned/ while in Belfast/Glasgow, and it is in no particular order.....
1) People love sitting in heat that would make the Sahara Desert seem cold
2) About 80% of the population smoked, including Fasty.
3) Celtic are a MUCH BETTER team than Rangers(this was just proven on the weekend)
4) It was very expensive. Things that might cost us $5, would cost 5 pounds.
5) Most people I met in Belfast were semi-retired, yet seemed to have plenty of money to bet on horses and buy many pints, at 1:00 everyday.
6) Parkhead is an absolutely amazing place to watch a match.
7) The Troon to Belfast ferry ride is extremely frightening.
8) People park anywhere they want. Sidewalks are for parking apparently, not walking.
9) Belfast has a lot of beautiful women, but a many of them have fairly large arses, thanks to their outstanding diet. Fortunately, most of them also have big Man Cities.
10) There are NO British soldiers on the streets at all right now. Unfortunately, there are very few police offers too. We only saw FOUR police vehicles in 4 days.
11) The streets have dog shite all over them but fortunately I was able to steer clear.
12) It is not a good idea to drink for 18 hours before flying to Vancouver, and not get any sleep.
13) The airplane's bathrooms are a very difficult place to barf in because of the size. I still managed though..
14) Tip a flight attendant(male) and he will bring you as many beers as you want the rest of the flight despite there being a 'restriction'.
15) I met a girl named Aletha on the plane. It is not a good idea to say, "Oh, I thought your name was Alisa and you had a lisp." Thank goodness she had a good sense of humor.
16) "Al knak the fcukin cnut outdya." is a popular phrase
17) There are bars on ferries and they start serving at 7:00 am, when the ferry leaves.
18) I am quite tall in Belfast for the most part. Parkhead was a giant.
19) I couldn't pick any fcuking winners in the horse races, much like on Willhill.....
20) Never mix homemade wine, Smirnoff Ice, Stella Artois, and Carling beer.....
I'm sure Parkhead, Saint, and Fasty will be able to add a few things that I forgot or can't recall......
Captain
Captain Shamrock
Well-Known Member
- Thread starter
- #69
7:30, which means around 7:45. Actually, I need to get in a little earlier.....
Sometime in the first 25 minutes I think. They are clearly visible behind Petrov while he is taking a corner kick.
If you tape the game I'll figure out the exact moment when I watch it tonight.
Fox Sports World Kicks off in about half an hour for those who don't know.
If you tape the game I'll figure out the exact moment when I watch it tonight.
Fox Sports World Kicks off in about half an hour for those who don't know.
Good stuff, Captain.
No matter what side you support, the occassion is second to none.
Glad to hear you made it home safely, as it doesn't take much to get into bother on the day. "Head down, no eye contact", were very wise words from my Uncle Billy.
Buckfast
PS - Did Fasty find his golf clubs?
No matter what side you support, the occassion is second to none.
Glad to hear you made it home safely, as it doesn't take much to get into bother on the day. "Head down, no eye contact", were very wise words from my Uncle Billy.
Buckfast
PS - Did Fasty find his golf clubs?
Captain Shamrock
Well-Known Member
- Thread starter
- #73
It's actually in the 13th minute according to our relatives who managed to tape the game. Please ignore the gay touque that I bought on the way to the game from the the bus. Shoc-king. It does say 'Celts' though..... The Devil made me do it. I think his name was Iain Paisley.
The Devil made me do it. I think his name was Iain Paisley.
cerebral smallsy
Well-Known Member
confirmed
just witnessed the captain and his toque and parkhead and his heeeed! good stuff boys.
just witnessed the captain and his toque and parkhead and his heeeed! good stuff boys.
cerebral smallsy
Well-Known Member
another winner
westside sneaks another one in ahead of croatia
westside sneaks another one in ahead of croatia
memories........
Highs and lows..........
Getting up at 4:30 of a Saturday morning is not fun in any circumstances however seeing as it was to go and see the Captain the alarm didn't sound quite so jarring. Plus, I was looking forward to it though not quite as much as Mrs. Saint who continually said it felt a bit like Christmas Eve.
Stansted is a very nice airport but, being British (my Britain includes Northern Ireland), utterly disorganised. £40 to fly to Glasgow from London is a good deal so I'll let them off.
Buchanan Street in Glasgow at 8:30am on a Saturday morning isn't the best place on earth to be and certain parts of it looked like a gutter on shite Street. Packs of roving Friday night space cadet casualties wandered around like like mongrel dogs after the apocolypse looking for someone weaker or smaller to prey on. As the Captain mentioned, in Scottish terms, I possess monstrous size so disaster could be averted.
Saint and Mrs. Saint arrived more or less on time, an impressive feat when you consider all they had to fcuking do was get a train that takes 45 minutes. After much to-ing and fro-ing and ultimately succeeding in accomplishing very little bar reminding ourselves of our Vancouver backgrounds and going for a bastard coffee, Mrs. Saint decided we needed a venue in which to watch the football. The Edge Bar. It's a good job Mrs. Saint were there, Saint and I could never have planned our movements with such meticulous and thorough detail.........
The Edge Bar was like shangri-la for someone who lives in London. Classy and elegant but without being a cnut, clean and spacious but without having unnecssarily uncomfortable chairs, it had everything we needed. Apart from the football. Not a chance, said the barman. 'Not even for three Canadians who don't really care all that much (he says since the bad guys won)?' It became apparent to me that Saint has now lived in Scotland for nigh on six months as he quickly realised the juke box would allow us to choose 99 songs without having to pay for them. Economic result. The fact that one of his choices was 'It's Raining Men' is a topic best left for another thread and another day. Needless to say, after a few pints of heavy we were all soon rocking out harder than Val Doonican in an earthquake.
Then they put the football on, just for us. Tourism. Then Celtic pissed on Rangers. Shame.
Before we knew it it was nearing on 4 bells and none of us had been bothered by the sound of our mobile ringing with a call from the Captain. As Murphy would have it, while I was away for a slash, Dr. Technology himself Saint was in charge of my mobile and, as luck would have it, Saint is not, apparently, au fait, with the tricky business of answering a telephone.
Thankfully my many wasted years of watching the Rockford Files paid dividends and, working in conjunction with Mrs. Saint's meticulous planning, we navigated ourselves to Morrison's by cab. 'It's right on the Clyde,' I commented, rather obviously though not, it should be noted, literally as Morrison's is, in fact, on the shore of the Clyde. Pedant keeper, please put your tadger back in yer shorts. 'Parkhead's cousin must be minted, this place should be really nice and be raking in the dineros,' my South London snobbishness had led me to believe.
We walked into Morrison's and lo and behold it was a working men's club. Now, in my experience, working men's clubs are top places to spend an afternoon though the moniker 'working men's club' can be misleading. Morrison's was no exception. While it is impossible to argue working men's clubs are frequented, for the most part, by men, the men who frequent working men's clubs have, for the most part, spent the majority of their lives dodging work and pissing it up against a wall. A perfect venue for Saint, then.
A highlight of our brief stay at Morrison's was the fact that, as I approached the Captain with my hand outstretched to give the old boy a good, firm, manly handshake, the Captain grabbed me and gave me a good old-fashioned bear hug. To this, the coffin-dodging, blue-rinsed, bitter and twisted old boot sat down as witness to ttp's greatest-ever reunion story remarked to her companion as she waved two fingers in our general direction, 'Fcuking poofs.' Classic.
Another highlight was the fact that I was sat next to a man in his '30's who, laughing in the face of popular convention, was actually working while enjoying a Saturday afternoon sup. The fact that he was clearly insane and fiddling with the contents of a Dixon's electronic's shop bag meant, quite clearly, that he was trying to make a bomb.
The third highlight was actually leaving to go back to the Edge Bar.
Now, good drama needs quality villains, a hate figure to counter-balance the heroic (Mrs. Saint, Saint....begrudgingly and myself) and the good (The Captain and Parkhead). Sherlock Holmes needs Moriarty and Spiderman needs the green Goblin or you've only got half a story. 'Spiderman Battles His Tax Returns' wouldn't hold your attention. As The Captain mentioned earlier, a shadowy figure called Blair was also included in the festivities. To this day I still have no idea why other than the fact he ambled up once Parkhead had left to tend to family commitments and then NEVER FCUKING LEFT US ALONE FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT. That and the fact that he 'recognised' me from high school. Creepy.
By this time we were back as part of the furnishings at the Edge Bar and, it has to be said, whoever dreamt up Vodka Red Bulls as a way of re-establishing something bearing a vague resemblence to normalcy after ten pints of heavy deserves free drink as well as streets, roses and pets named after them across the civilised world. Even if they did cost £4.80 each.
It was great seeing the Captain again and, in particular, seeing him so happy. By now a comparatively sober Parkhead had returned so the Ditch Blair Project had to be put out to pasture. I'm not as big a cnut as people make out, you see.
Despite Blair's insipid and highly fcuking annoying protestations, it was decided to go for a ruby. Despite the fact it was the worst curry I'd ever had and that I was subjected to being sat next to Blair, the fact we were served by a man whose hair possessed even more character than that of the Captain's barnet was something we, nor him, will likely soon forget.
Leaving the ruby, the evening started going south when the insufferable bore that was Blair started whining about making it for last orders at some bar or another. Look you twat, I don't know you, I'm never going to see you again, the fact you 'recognise' me from high school means nothing because everyone will ackowledge the fact that I'm a rock star and you're a fcuking bender, we didn't come here to see you and the fact you've spent five hours drinking with us while the only person you even had a tenuous connection to wasn't even about means you, sir, are, pure and simple, a tosser of the highest order. 'Fastshow, you can stay on my floor if you like but I haven't room for Saint or Mrs. Saint.' Get out of my sight, you cnut. So, like that, the night was done and we went our separate ways. Seeing a dead man on the way to the station adequately summed up what would have happened to Blair had I not been such a top lad and owed it to Parkhead not to batter seven shades out of his chum. A disappointing end to a top-shelf day.
Still, with the benefit of hindsight and with Saint's bastardised and mistakenly attributed quotes on London still ringing in my head (Oscar Wilde never tired of London though I'm sure he would have tired of you), it was a great day and, for me, a great weekend spent in Glasgow and then Edinburgh. Topping it all off with two days in Newcastle was the kind of thing many dream of. I've never met anyone with such dreams but I'm sure they exist.
Until June, Captain and Parkhead.
Highs and lows..........
Getting up at 4:30 of a Saturday morning is not fun in any circumstances however seeing as it was to go and see the Captain the alarm didn't sound quite so jarring. Plus, I was looking forward to it though not quite as much as Mrs. Saint who continually said it felt a bit like Christmas Eve.
Stansted is a very nice airport but, being British (my Britain includes Northern Ireland), utterly disorganised. £40 to fly to Glasgow from London is a good deal so I'll let them off.
Buchanan Street in Glasgow at 8:30am on a Saturday morning isn't the best place on earth to be and certain parts of it looked like a gutter on shite Street. Packs of roving Friday night space cadet casualties wandered around like like mongrel dogs after the apocolypse looking for someone weaker or smaller to prey on. As the Captain mentioned, in Scottish terms, I possess monstrous size so disaster could be averted.
Saint and Mrs. Saint arrived more or less on time, an impressive feat when you consider all they had to fcuking do was get a train that takes 45 minutes. After much to-ing and fro-ing and ultimately succeeding in accomplishing very little bar reminding ourselves of our Vancouver backgrounds and going for a bastard coffee, Mrs. Saint decided we needed a venue in which to watch the football. The Edge Bar. It's a good job Mrs. Saint were there, Saint and I could never have planned our movements with such meticulous and thorough detail.........
The Edge Bar was like shangri-la for someone who lives in London. Classy and elegant but without being a cnut, clean and spacious but without having unnecssarily uncomfortable chairs, it had everything we needed. Apart from the football. Not a chance, said the barman. 'Not even for three Canadians who don't really care all that much (he says since the bad guys won)?' It became apparent to me that Saint has now lived in Scotland for nigh on six months as he quickly realised the juke box would allow us to choose 99 songs without having to pay for them. Economic result. The fact that one of his choices was 'It's Raining Men' is a topic best left for another thread and another day. Needless to say, after a few pints of heavy we were all soon rocking out harder than Val Doonican in an earthquake.
Then they put the football on, just for us. Tourism. Then Celtic pissed on Rangers. Shame.
Before we knew it it was nearing on 4 bells and none of us had been bothered by the sound of our mobile ringing with a call from the Captain. As Murphy would have it, while I was away for a slash, Dr. Technology himself Saint was in charge of my mobile and, as luck would have it, Saint is not, apparently, au fait, with the tricky business of answering a telephone.
Thankfully my many wasted years of watching the Rockford Files paid dividends and, working in conjunction with Mrs. Saint's meticulous planning, we navigated ourselves to Morrison's by cab. 'It's right on the Clyde,' I commented, rather obviously though not, it should be noted, literally as Morrison's is, in fact, on the shore of the Clyde. Pedant keeper, please put your tadger back in yer shorts. 'Parkhead's cousin must be minted, this place should be really nice and be raking in the dineros,' my South London snobbishness had led me to believe.
We walked into Morrison's and lo and behold it was a working men's club. Now, in my experience, working men's clubs are top places to spend an afternoon though the moniker 'working men's club' can be misleading. Morrison's was no exception. While it is impossible to argue working men's clubs are frequented, for the most part, by men, the men who frequent working men's clubs have, for the most part, spent the majority of their lives dodging work and pissing it up against a wall. A perfect venue for Saint, then.
A highlight of our brief stay at Morrison's was the fact that, as I approached the Captain with my hand outstretched to give the old boy a good, firm, manly handshake, the Captain grabbed me and gave me a good old-fashioned bear hug. To this, the coffin-dodging, blue-rinsed, bitter and twisted old boot sat down as witness to ttp's greatest-ever reunion story remarked to her companion as she waved two fingers in our general direction, 'Fcuking poofs.' Classic.
Another highlight was the fact that I was sat next to a man in his '30's who, laughing in the face of popular convention, was actually working while enjoying a Saturday afternoon sup. The fact that he was clearly insane and fiddling with the contents of a Dixon's electronic's shop bag meant, quite clearly, that he was trying to make a bomb.
The third highlight was actually leaving to go back to the Edge Bar.
Now, good drama needs quality villains, a hate figure to counter-balance the heroic (Mrs. Saint, Saint....begrudgingly and myself) and the good (The Captain and Parkhead). Sherlock Holmes needs Moriarty and Spiderman needs the green Goblin or you've only got half a story. 'Spiderman Battles His Tax Returns' wouldn't hold your attention. As The Captain mentioned earlier, a shadowy figure called Blair was also included in the festivities. To this day I still have no idea why other than the fact he ambled up once Parkhead had left to tend to family commitments and then NEVER FCUKING LEFT US ALONE FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT. That and the fact that he 'recognised' me from high school. Creepy.
By this time we were back as part of the furnishings at the Edge Bar and, it has to be said, whoever dreamt up Vodka Red Bulls as a way of re-establishing something bearing a vague resemblence to normalcy after ten pints of heavy deserves free drink as well as streets, roses and pets named after them across the civilised world. Even if they did cost £4.80 each.
It was great seeing the Captain again and, in particular, seeing him so happy. By now a comparatively sober Parkhead had returned so the Ditch Blair Project had to be put out to pasture. I'm not as big a cnut as people make out, you see.
Despite Blair's insipid and highly fcuking annoying protestations, it was decided to go for a ruby. Despite the fact it was the worst curry I'd ever had and that I was subjected to being sat next to Blair, the fact we were served by a man whose hair possessed even more character than that of the Captain's barnet was something we, nor him, will likely soon forget.
Leaving the ruby, the evening started going south when the insufferable bore that was Blair started whining about making it for last orders at some bar or another. Look you twat, I don't know you, I'm never going to see you again, the fact you 'recognise' me from high school means nothing because everyone will ackowledge the fact that I'm a rock star and you're a fcuking bender, we didn't come here to see you and the fact you've spent five hours drinking with us while the only person you even had a tenuous connection to wasn't even about means you, sir, are, pure and simple, a tosser of the highest order. 'Fastshow, you can stay on my floor if you like but I haven't room for Saint or Mrs. Saint.' Get out of my sight, you cnut. So, like that, the night was done and we went our separate ways. Seeing a dead man on the way to the station adequately summed up what would have happened to Blair had I not been such a top lad and owed it to Parkhead not to batter seven shades out of his chum. A disappointing end to a top-shelf day.
Still, with the benefit of hindsight and with Saint's bastardised and mistakenly attributed quotes on London still ringing in my head (Oscar Wilde never tired of London though I'm sure he would have tired of you), it was a great day and, for me, a great weekend spent in Glasgow and then Edinburgh. Topping it all off with two days in Newcastle was the kind of thing many dream of. I've never met anyone with such dreams but I'm sure they exist.
Until June, Captain and Parkhead.
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