Mr Imp, Life columnist at The Banner, writes about his misadventures as a Don Juan-Esque petty criminal, his odd odysseys abroad and his high jinks with his colourful family in Auchterturra. Cartoons by Dod Dunlop.
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Dear reader, this week has been relatively dry but has been not without interest. Here in Auchterturra, Dáh and I found ourselves again in front of the sheriff, this time for breaching the peace. How this occurred is the subject of my column.
The story kicks off at the playing field of the Auchterturra football club, and we are watching a friendly between the Angels (the nickname of Auchterturra FC) versus the local Lossiemouth team, and you know how you get at extremely low octane local team games, by this I mean being so bored you drink yourself silly. This was the situation for Dáh, and I with the rest of the spectators. Thankfully, the football ground had a bar nearby and we would go back and forth to the bar and back.
By the halftime whistle and a critically bruising watch as the Angels were down ten and some of them had been own goals making a less than happy crowd. However, it is essential to note that the Angels are probably the worst team in Scotland. Awful football is played in Auchterturra. According to legend, the team got Brian Clough to do a day's worth of coaching. The football giant, after two hours just gave back the money they paid him, telling them that they were the shittest team he had ever seen and that they should close because they were an insult and a mockery of what football is supposed to be. However, that coming from Brian Clough is a little rich.
Dáh and I got some pies and more lager during halftime, and like everyone, we were getting rowdy. So rowdy, PC Tamson was called in to keep an eye on things. Having PC Tamson, the tightest tit dickhead observing our football match is a recipe for disaster. As soon as the whistle blew, everything went boom.
Following a foul from the other team and the Angels finally getting lucky, the crowd went wild to the point that the local Auchterturra toughs decided it be a good idea to start a riot. Immediately everyone who wasn't wearing the white and black of the Auchterturra Angels was attacked. And the champions of such madness were the bystanders observing from safety in the houses around the field.
Meanwhile, your poor beloved columnist and his Dáh took the hint and quietly decided to depart. Unfortunately, PC Tamson was not having any of it. He was charging in with riot gear, helmet, shield and baton. He looked like one of the Bobby's at one of the minor strikes. The jackass targeted us, thinking we started the riot. swinging at us we fought back and disarmed him, threw him to the ground, claimed his weapons as trophies, and left.
Next, PC Tamson ended up getting wholly bruised by the other punters who had scores to settle with PC Tamson. The riot would continue for about four hours until backup from Inverness eventually came, and the Inverness cavalry division cleared the field.
Thinking we wouldn't get in trouble, we thought nothing of it, and when about with other activities. Exiting a house, we'd just finished painting the interior some Inverness Bobbies came and slapped the handcuffs on us. Handcuffs are uncomfortable things to wear.
With handcuffs on, we were pushed into a paddy wagon full of other rogues and miscreants from the football game the other day. We then got carted off to the sheriff's court to face trial for the various crimes committed on the day of the football match.
As said before, our crime was disturbance of the peace and disrupting an officer's performance of his duties. Thankfully it was the excellent Sheriff Hamish MacDoeh (Dáh's golfing buddy) presiding over the crimes committed. The principal witness against us was PC Tamson, and when we saw him, oh, was it funny; his face had gone entirely purple full of bruised bumps, plasters and the Jacob Marley-Esque bandage around his head and jaw. He also had a cast around his neck and a cast over his shoulder. He looked worse for wares, and when he spoke, it sounded like a bee had stung his tongue, making him sound almost inaudible. Once his testimony was collected, the good Sheriff MacDoeh passed a sentence of not proven. This meant we were free to go.
Thus, ending this little Angels fiasco. By the way, the final score was 15 – 1, and five of those 15 goals were self-inflicted. As stated before, awful football.
As I'm sending this off, I'm shipping off back to Edinburgh and back to sanity.
