A customer enters Hampden.
Customer: ‘Ello Ello, I wish to register a complaint.
(The owner does not respond.)
C: ‘Ello, Miss?
Owner: What do you mean “miss”?
C: I’m sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!
O: We’re closin’ for lunch.
C: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this club what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
O: Oh yes, the, uh, the Scottish Blue…What’s, uh…What’s wrong with it?
C: I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it, my lad. ‘IT’S dead, that’s what’s wrong with it!
O: No, no, ‘it’s uh,…it’s resting.
C: Look, matey, I know a dead club when I see one, and I’m looking at one right now.
O: No no it’s not dead, it’s, it’s restin’! Remarkable club, the Scottish Blue, idn’it, ay? Beautiful history!
C: The history don’t enter into it. It’s stone dead.
O: Nononono, no, no! ‘IT’S resting!
C: All right then, if it’s restin’, I’ll wake it up!
(shouting at the cage)
‘Ello Ello, Mister Rangers! I’ve got a lovely fresh tax dodge for you if you show…(owner hits the cage)
O: There, it moved!
C: No, it didn’t, that was you hitting the cage!
O: I never!!
C: Yes, you did!
O: I never, never did anything…
C: (yelling and hitting the cage repeatedly) ‘ELLO RANGERS!!!!!
Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o’clock alarm call!
(Takes registration paper out of the cage and thumps it on the counter. Throws it up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.)
C: Now that’s what I call a dead club.
O: No, no…..No, ‘it’s stunned!
O: Yeah! You stunned it, just as it was wakin’ up! Scottish Blues stun easily, major.
C: Um…now look…now look, mate, I’ve definitely ‘ad enough of this. That club is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not ‘alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein’ tired and shagged out following a prolonged EBT.
O: Well, it’s…it’s, ah…probably pining for the press.
C: PININ’ for the PRESS?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, look, why did it flat on its back the moment I got it home?
O: The Scottish Blue prefers kippin’ on it’s back! Remarkable club, id’nit, squire? Lovely history!
C: Look, I took the liberty of examining that club when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been alive in the first place was that it had been NAILED there.
O: Well, o’course it was nailed there! If I hadn’t nailed that club down, it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent ’em apart and VOOM! Feeweeweewee!
C: “VOOM”?!? Mate, this club wouldn’t “voom” if you paid half its tax bills! ‘IT’S bleedin’ demised!
O: No no! ‘IT’S pining!
C: ‘IT’S not pinin’! ‘IT’S passed on! This club is no more! It has ceased to be! ‘IT’S expired and gone to meet ‘is maker!
‘IT’S a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed ‘it to the perch ‘it’d be pushing up the daisies! ‘Its metabolic processes are now ‘istory! ‘IT’S off the twig!
‘IT’s kicked the bucket, ‘it’s shuffled off ‘is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible!!
THIS IS AN EX-CLUB. IT’S DEAD!!
O: Well, I’d better replace it, then.
(He takes a quick peek behind the counter)
O: Sorry squire, I’ve had a look ’round the back of the shop, and uh, we’re right out of clubs.
C: I see. I see, I get the picture.
O: I got a press slug.
C: (sweet as sugar) Pray, does it play football?
O: Nnnnot really.
C: WELL IT’S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?
O: Look, if you go to my mate’s shop across the Hampden corridor, he’ll replace the club for you.
C: Corridor, eh? Very well.
The customer leaves.
The customer enters the same club shop. The owner is putting on a false moustache.
C: This is Hampden, is it?
O: (with a fake mustache) No, it’s Falkirk.
C: That’s the bloody SFA for you.