Turns out the scar from nutting the window in Manchester meant I blended in quite nicely in Glasgow on an evening when Celtic drew with Man United, an event which ensured a steady stream of pissed-up inquisitive punters passing by the bus during load out. They all seemed happy enough, even the chap who admitted to Mick he was considering stealing one of our guitars. Merchandise supremo Sandor narrowly escaped a set-to while buying his dinner, but luckily his favourite Dutch team Feyenoord have historical connections with Celtic so the ruffians let him off.