It's a wonderful life being a Hibee...

[SKII]

It was Christmas Eve in the year of our Lord 2004...

A vertically challenged rotund creature stood shivering in the snow, huddled in one corner of a bus shelter...muttering and wailing, muttering and a-wailing. Sleety flurries saw a round, red face glistening in the floodlit night. The limp sustained a week earlier during an Unfortunate Series of Events seemed all the more accentuated by the cruel chill of the December night air.

Robert Johnson was contemplating his life, his future - and whether he had one. Life seemed so Dickensian, so harsh at present, that he was letting demons enter his mind...demons that had him believing everyone would be better off without him.

Poor Robert Johnson - everything was falling round about him.

The Baillifs had been round, chasing him up to sell his only assets. A new landlord waited in the wings looking to impose some sort of East European regime where once there had been Long Haired Happy Hour. The next holiday abroad had been cancelled abruptly due to a change in circumstances. The neighbours, the ex-wife, the neighbours, the ex-wife, the neighbours...all seemed SO happy. Life seemed to be ticking along nicely for everyone except him - would anyone miss him? Would anyone miss him...

From out of the darkness, suddenly, there came a voice - was Robert Johnson dreaming? It sounded like the voice of the PA guy at MurrayCastle Park...what was his name again? Will Scotson? Yes - that was it, Will Scotson. But it couldn't be, this was Christmas Eve, everyone was tucked up warm in bed - nobody bar St Nick should be out at such an hour...let alone Will Scotson. Robert Johnson suspected he was hallucinating.

"Robert Johnson, bus shelter legend you may be - but what are you doing out on a night such as this? Christmas Eve of all nights?"

Ignore it, thought Robert Johnson. Ignore it and it shall go away. One too many mince pies at the club Christmas lunch, too much brandy butter and a babycham - it is the drink talking. Will Scotson wouldn't be here at this time of night on Christmas Eve...

"Robert Johnson - are you ignoring me? If you are, I shall be forced to stamp up and down until you pay me due attention and respect!" the voice came again - only this time, two of four massive floodlights switched on and lit up the Christmas night sky. Highlighting the crumpled lump hiding in the corner of the bus shelter, the lights became more intense - and the crackling of a tannoy became a backdrop for the scene.

"Josh and Jemma, Happy Hearty! Robert Johnson! Welcome to MurrayCastle on Christmas Eve for today's vital festive SPL fixture between "Life with Robert Johnson" and "Life without Robert Johnson"! "

For Sauzee's sake - it WAS Will Scotson...what was HE doing here?

The tannoy continued to blast out the voice of compere Scotson - directed in full at Robert Johnson, bewildered, lost and floundering. Believing the world was against him...thinking there was little point in going on.

"What are you doing here Robert Johnson? It is Christmas Eve - you have (sorry HAD) a wife and four children to go home to! What are you doing here on a night such as this?"

Robert Johnson looked up from his padded jacket with virtual reality padding, sorry virtually real padding, and muttered incoherent nonsense that Will Scotson had difficulty in comprehending...

"Robert, speak English my friend - what do you mean it is all John Rowbotham's fault? How could he stand on your foot, son? He stays in Kirkcaldy? Santa isn't a cheat, or an Old Firm sympathiser - that is Satan ya bam...don't tell me you are dyslexic as well as daft?" Will Scotson despaired.

The huddled padding moved a little, limping still - one foot still flat from being stomped on by John Rowbotham...or whoever else did it in the hallucinations of Robert Johnson...

"Life would be better without me, Will", came the pathetic whine from the eiderdown coat. "Life would be better off without me!"

Will Scotson struggled with his microphone for a moment - and, thinking it was switched off cussed and muttered under his breath in a manner that would have had him removed from the Press Area on any other day...

"Stupid, useless, fat, whiny...in some places he would be called a lazy, fat Jambo..."

Then, realising that he was actually "on air" he covered his tracks quicker than Rudolph back heeling reindeer droppings -

"That may be true, erm SEEM to be true, Robert Johnson - but it is neither in the script or in anyone's interests for you to end it all by throwing yourself from the top of the bus shelter onto the park. The groundsman simply wouldn't cope with the crater to start with...so don't be blummin daft son".

Robert Johnson moaned from his corner, whinging in despair, desperately hoping for some sympathy, some understanding, some Christmas spirit...

Will Scotson, frustrated at this self-pitying routine, bellowed

"Okay Robert, son, let me show you what life would be like without your presence and see whether you still feel so unhappy..."

A video screen, borrowed from the previous owners of MurrayCastle flickered on to show footage of life without Robert Johnson...much to the fascination of the lumpy huddle in the corner.

Images of a happy Tracey-hen, four bairns and a dug, shacked up with John Gibson of the EEN...dining out on half time prawn sandwiches at Easter Road. Then a smiling Sandy Clark - re-employed at MurrayCastle - playing a 7-2-1 formation, with Graeme Hogg his assistant and player-coach. Rangers and Celtic had been relegated. Hearts were in the quarter finals of the Champions League - where they were due to play East Fife after Christmas for a place in the penultimate stage of the competition. It had not rained in Gorgie for over a year. Josh and Jemma Jambo had gotten married, run off and left the club mascot-less. The NB Distillery had taken over the club and were handing out free samples at every home game...

Will Scotson turned the screen off before any more images of life without Robert Johnson could be aired...

"Well, then Robert - see what would have happened without you? Gibson would be the father of yer bairns, they would all be Hibbies. How could you let that happen?"

Robert Johnson looked pale, shook his head - and jumped from the top of the bus shelter, landing flat out and dying immediately on impact.

"Cheesy peeps!" came the voice from the darkness. "What happened there then?" Will Scotson was heard to be frantically rustling through script papers to see where it had all "gone array".

"What a mess - the groundsman is gonna kill me. It wasn't supposed to happen THAT way"

In the background, a tinkling of bells, the sign that somewhere, somehow, another angel had gotten it's wings...in Lithuania.