– It wis fuckin ace, ah told him. – You’ve heard of total fitba, the Dutch invented it, right? Well this man here, ah nodded towards Eric, – is total bools. You could’ve went for the blast there, Eric, tried that Premier League style huffing and puffing but naw, a bit ay class, a bit ay art.

The pint was drained. Vaughan hit the bar.

This was always a thing with Vaughan when he met me. He had a sense of duty, of the responsibilities ay a married man and a parent, so that whenever he did have an allocated time he would try tae squeeze as many units of alcohol into it as he possibly could. And he could drink. Thank fuck it was draught Becks ah was on. Ah wouldnae touch any Scottish shite, especially McEwan’s lager, the vile toxic pish that it is, for anything. The pints kept flowing and this speed was still digging in, and ah was almost hyperventilating. The thing is, it was like auld Eric got dragged in by the vibe, by the exuberance, and it was like the auld bastard had snorted a few lines n aw.

After a quick draining of the next pint he came back wi some mair beers, wi nips as chasers.

– Fuckin hell! ah said. – Expect the unexpected wi this man, eh?

– Aye, too right, Vaughan smiled. Vaughan was looking at us both with a big, indulgent those-are-mad-cunts-but-I-love-them smile. It made me feel close to him.

– Ye should go up n see Ma n Dad, Vaughan told me.

– Aye, ah guiltily conceded, – ah’ve been meanin tae drop by this tape ah made up for them. Motown, eh.

– Good. They’ll appreciate that.

– Aye, Marvin, Smokey, Aretha n aw that, ah said, then promptly changed the subject, turnin tae Eric, – Listen, Eric, that stunt you pulled wi the bools, ah began.

– Aye, Eric cut in, – fair took the wind oot ay Vaughan here’s sails, that’s if ye dinnae mind ays sayin like, Vaughan! Eric laughed. – Expect the unexpected!

– Do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do, ah start the Twilight Zone theme tune, then ah think of something, – Listen, Eric, your second name isnae Cantona, by any chance, is it?

– Eh naw, Stewart, he said.

– It’s just that there wis a Cantonaesque quality aboot that final shot thair, ah began giggling, a real dose ay the Flight Lieutenants, and Eric did too, – it fair blew fuckin Vaughan Ryan’s Express right out the water …

– Aye … awright then, ya cunts, Vaughan sulked.

– Ooh ah, Cantona, ah started, and Eric joined in. A few groups of drinkers and auld couples looked over at us.

Encouraged, auld Eric and ah were up doing the can-can: na, na na, na na na na na na na, na, na na, na na na na na na …

– Hey, come oan now, that’s enough. Thir’s folk here tryin tae enjoy a drink, a mumpy cunt with a blazer and badge moans.