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Ah mind ay once a few ay
us gaun through tae a Slam
do oan the Renfrew Ferry. Ah
wis jist comin up oan ma pill n
Henzo conies runnin up tae ays sayin,
fuckin battle stations here, ye cunt, the
place is full ay Motherwell cashies. So ah
looks over and sure enough, it's the whole
Saturday Service crew, top boys n aw, groovin
doon in a big wey. So ah turns tae Henzo an says:
just fuckin chill ya tube. Every cunt's fuckin loved-up
the night. They boys are sound. They're jist like us, eh;
they'll take the fuckin buzz where they can find it. Disnae
matter whether it's the house buzz wi the E or the swedge
buzz wi the adrenalin, it's aw the same. So ah goes up
tae this big cunt ah recognised and wi jist point at
each other and laugh for a bit, then it's big hugs
aw roond. He introduces ays tae the rest ay his
crew and we're pertyin away thegither. He says
tae me: this rush isnae quite as good as the
swedge rush, but ye can get tae sleep easier
eftir a few nights. Ah'm up fir days wi the
swedge rush, cannae sleep or fuck all.
That's us big mates, but jist wait
till we're next at Fir Park. Nae
quarter asked or given, eh.

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