One Saturday a Rangers fan went to an Old Firm game at Parkhead. Arriving a
little late, he got a bit flustered and in his rush went into the Celtic end by
mistake. By the time he realised his blunder the match had already kicked off.
Not wishing to miss a moment of the action, he shrugged and sat down. It wasn't
long before a Celtic fan sitting next to him spotted his Rangers scarf.
'You better keep your mouth shut, pal,' he was warned, 'Or you're on a doing.'
The Gers fan tried to keep his enthusiasm under control but when McCoist scored
in the fifteenth minute he couldn't help jumping to his feet in joy. He was quickly
huckled back down by a Celts fan on each side and reminded to behave himself,
As fate would have it, Rangers scored again just on the stroke of half-time and
the Bear managed to stay in his seat but couldn't restrain a cry of 'Yes!' The
surrounding Bhoys glared at him and one big bruiser jabbed him with his finger.
'Right you, that's half-time. Away and get me a Bovril.'
The Rangers man thought this was his chance to escape to a more friendly part
of the ground and agreed to do what he was told. But before he could move the
Celts fan ordered him to hand over his left shoe as a guarantee that he would
come back. In dismay the Gers fan handed over his shoe and hopped off on his errand.
When he returned the Celts fan took the Bovril, pointed at the shoe on the floor
and commanded him to put it on. He did so and his foot immediately came into contact
with something soft and with a sickeningly unmistakable odour.
'Oh shit,' he cried.
The surrounding Junglies laughed and he thought he might be spared further humiliation
and be able to escape, but his tormentor wasn't finished.
'Right, give me your other shoe while you go and get a Bovril for my pal here.'
The fan had no choice and once more hopped away, this time with a squelch. He
had a good idea what would be waiting for him when he came back and, sure enough,
his right foot had to squeeze in beside another malodorous lump. He was allowed
to sit out the rest of the match in peace, albeit smelly and highly uncomfortable,
and even though Rangers ran out winners he didn't feel much like celebrating.
As he left the ground a radio reporter came up to him eagerly.
'Unless I'm mistaken,' said the hack, 'This is a Rangers supporter coming out
of the Celtic end. Can I ask you, sir, does this signal an end to the trouble
at Old Firm games?'
The fan shook his head.
'No, I can't say it does. I think there's always going to be bother at these matches.'
'What makes you so sure of that?'
'Well, put it this way. As long as they keep crapping in our shoes we'll keep
peeing in their Bovril,' he told the puzzled reporter and wandered away.