The two community polis ir floatin aboot the hall, lookin at the war memorial n other displays littered around the place. The young tall skinny wan wae black hair n the elder heavy-set boy wae a moustache – the Roadrunner n fuckin Yosemite Sam. Big McGiver is sittin lookin ragin cos the only thing that’s missin is the Toi. They huvnae shown up n huv, one n aw, dogged it. Aw the big man’s efforts huv been in vain n it’s written across his face.

‘Well, boys, I dare say we should continue regardless. Don’t you agree?’ We aw shrug n try tae look interested. ‘Help yourself to a sandwich, in the meantime,’ he says, glancin towards the two polis doin their own thing. McGiver speaks tae them like two pupils late fur class. ‘Sergeant Muldoon and Constable Blakley, we are ready to begin.’

The fat one, Muldoon, trundles towards the circle ae seats and the tall one follows behind, monkey tae the organ grinder. They’re awright actually. Yir cat n mouse by default wae the community polis but it ended up more Tom n Jerry. They sit uncomfortably wae their stab-proof vests on n turn their radios doon quiet. Me, Broonie n Addison ir sittin like The Usual Suspects. The polis nod towards me n A gee them wan back – neither is overly friendly but it’s a wee acknowledgement. McGiver sees it n nods his own big solid nut. He claps his hands loudly.

‘Good morning, gentlemen. This is the first monumental and historic gang workshop this high school has ever conducted. Needless to say that the representatives of only one gang have turned up.’

Everybody mutters a laugh n looks aboot like the Toi wid magically pop up. It isnae tae be. McGiver’s brand ae sarcasm is easily accessible. Even Broonie kin tell that he isnae being a hunner per cent serious.

‘So, first I would like to make introductions—’

‘That will not be necessary, Mr McGiver. We recognise a few faces and at least Mr Williams is known to us.’

‘See, sir, straight-up famous!’

‘Mr Williams’ ego aside … this is Sergeant Muldoon and PC Blakley, your community officers. On the other side we have Shaun Brown, or “Broonie”, and Paul Addison, and last but not least we have Mr Alan “Azzy” Williams.’

We look among ourselves n McGiver laughs tae the two polis.

‘They think we exist in a different universe, one where we don’t have ears and don’t know their nicknames.’

‘Always the bloody same, Mr McGiver.’

‘Yes, none of this is new, but prevention is better than cure. I believe this workshop can be repeated around the town and I am going to make other headteachers aware of the recent increase in territorial violence.’

Sergeant Muldoon starts tae talk. ‘Now, boys, we aw know that this could spiral out of control, so rather than it descendin intae more violence—’

He’s cut aff by a brick comin right through the top windae. Everybody shites themselves n ducks. There’s broken glass on the floor n McGiver rushes tae huv a look. PC Blakley is awready aff, sprintin towards the main entrance. Muldoon nods tae McGiver n jogs behind him, lookin pissed aff he has tae run. We’re aw desperate tae see who’s done it. Through the broken pane we hear them shoutin.