I got up late. Laughing Boy phoned and asked if I was going out to watch the football. Usually that would be a given. Celtic’s last league game at Parkhead this season. It’s on Sky. The pubs are open and I could expect to be steamin-drunk by half-time since I’m a bit of a lightweight and that’s 45 minutes of valuable drinking time. But I couldn’t be arsed, which is the Celtic equivalent of a mortal sin and despite ten minutes of badgering I...