Far from Lone Rangers

What a sight for normal eyes at Waverley Street, Embra-Hordes (and I use that term advisedly) of Rangers' supporters, draped in flags, singing the odd ethnic ie-sectarian ditty whilst slurping lager from large tins. They were being dragooned like wild animals. Fierce notices-Don't even think about going to Manchester (where the UEFA) final is being played) without having seat reservation- Cross Country Trains-no alcohol to be brought on to the train. Queue here-you will be herded onto the train in small manageable parties-Abu Ghuraib must have been a bit like this except for Orange Jump Suits read miscellaneous Kilts; although come to think of it ,orange jump suits would be most appropriate for the traditional Rangers fan.

I was contemplating the sign outside the Loos turnstiles which read ' Be aware the toilet is now 30 p instead of 20p' when a kilted RF thrust past me ' 30p Jimmie, bluidy robbery-I hae only 20 p left in my ****ing Sporran-and I hae reely gotta go-like the ****ing noo' He made as to lift the back of his Kilt into PTS* position, Nos 2.

THe turnstile attendant took the 20 p

And let him in.

It may have been the kilt but he disappeared into the Ladies where the Queue (INconvenience regretted) sign was illuminated.

I doubt if he queued.

(* Prepare to ****)

and let him in.

Labels: Public loos, Rangers

  ¶ 3:33 PM