I went into Glasgow with some friends from Edinburgh and Ireland to either watch the last Celtic Vs  Huns game of last season on the box in a pub on the Gallowgate, or go to the match. It was all dependant on getting tickets for the game for us all. As it turned out the touting bastard was demanding far too much for the tickets – and he was a Celtic fan as well! – It’s cunts like that we want shot of and leave the Green Brigade lads alone. It’s the “put your head down we don’t want any bother” Tims we don’t need. Who needs enemies when you’ve got wankers like that in the stands? But that’s another matter and my views are well documented about it.

We ended up watching it in the Hoops Bar on the Gallowgate. I think we decided that it wasn’t worth just going to laugh at them again as I begin to feel a wee bit sorry for them. Then I give myself a metaphorical kick in the arse and I’m OK again – Back to doing the huddle and hating the Huns.

Anyway, After the game was over and the fans started to fill up the Gallowgate, we decanted from the Hoops Bar on the Gallowgate and tried several pubs, but as Celtic Park had decanted as well, most of the Celtic Support was on the Gallowgate and in the pubs and as usual they were all jumping and there was no room. There was a queue at the Brazen head, Gary Og was on I think and the queue was for the next on the bill. Or it was the other way around. I can’t mind surely. But the upshot was we found ourselves on the Gallowgate again but this time every pub was even fuller. We had blundered big time and it was my fault ‘cos I got us lost. I was just trying to make sure we didn’t end up on the wrong side of London Road ‘cos that would just be daft with just the three of us, colours or no. So by this time, I’m dying for a pish, or in proper Anglo, to urinate or empty my bladder. I’m walking down the Gallowgate and make the mistake of passing the Saracen Lane right next to the Sara Head pub and a fella goes up the next lane, Great Dovehill and relieves himself at the back gate of MA Sports. I then go up to follow suit but I’m wearing Jogging trousers without a zip on account of the dressing I have to wear on my leg (long story) which does not allow me to wear jeans for they are too tight. So I’m basically going to have to expose myself to do this and I’m having enough problems pishing at the best of times because I reckon I have a slight pishy infection. So I try standing at the other end of the gate from where my predecessor pished but on the same side obviously. I abandoned that idea as I felt it was too open. So I tried where he had pished. I could see his pish being absorbed by the dry dusty ground. But I couldn’t do it. It was far to open and that coupled with the time it would take me to do the pish meant it was not possible for me to attempt to emulate him. So I turn around to pick up my stick and indicate to my mates that I couldn’t do it. As I was turning round I noticed a blue gas guzzling people carrier come along Bell Street and stop and reverse and have a wee gander down Great Dovehill. I recognise in the driver street, one of Strathclyde’s finest. So I know they are gonna come down and ask me what I’m up to. No problem I thought, they’ll just do a pinks check on me and a quick search and I’m on my way.

The people carrier pulls up and I can’t remember who was driving, the big wanker with a boulder on his shoulder or the wee dumb blonde (not all blondes are dumb, just this one was) . But whatever, they jumped out Sweeney style and asked me

“Why was I pishing outside to the annoyance of others.”

“What others and I wasn’t pishing was I?” I said.

“Don’t call me a liar or you’ll get the nick right now” he promises. He gives me a final warning

“Well good! Then I’ll get a fucking pish then won’t I?”

After much arguing about whether he was lying while I was trying to get the subject on to the fact of whether I had done a pish or not. During which time I’m sure I got 3 final warnings that I would be lifted. I had even pointed out to him that the pish was dried into the dust and had clearly been done more than a few minutes ago. A fucking child could see that. I asked him to take a DNA sample from it if he was so sure of himself that it was my pish.

“What do you think I want to take a sample of your pish for?” he asks.

“To fucking prove it ya dick” “Gimme yer sample kit and I’ll dae it then”

That’s yer final warning” he repeats.

I say “Thank fuck, for I’ll get a fucking pish then. Yer no getting it are ye. I want ye tae fucking lift me” Then the daft bint pipes up

“What are you doing all the way from Motherwell in here?” they had been taking my details between our arguing.

I says “What’s it fucking look like?” pointing out my dress. Free State Training Jacket and Celtic top, Hoops an’ all.

“No need to be cheeky, I was only making conversation” she blubbers.

I said “No you were not. You were implying I was in here up to no good.” “If I said to you, when did you get yer facelift? Would you consider that just making conversation?” I continue “Respect is earned hen. It’s not dished out on plate in the copshop canteen”

As I was giving her my details, I thought I might check out the guy cop. Half caste, but there was nothing wrong with that and has no relevance. So I’m looking him square in the eye. I notice he must about 6 foot. I’m 5’8″ and he was a few inches the better of me. So I’m eyeballing him. After about 10 seconds of a staring match he says

“Don’t look at me like that”

“Don’t look at you like whit!?” I demand.

“Like you’ve been hard done too”

“I fucking have!” Another final warning. “Full of promises you are aren’t you?”

I could swear I saw just a bit of steam coming from his ears. He or she’s writing out the ticket and he’s trying to figure out what street we’re on. So he just says “The Gallowgate” and shrugs his shoulders. I guess his partner agrees but I don’t know because I’m still staring right through him. This is when I know they are making a blunder or are not taking this seriously and just want to get to fuck away from me. Cos it was on Great Dovehill which runs parallel to Saracen Lane. So they are trying to say they seen me pishing in the street, The Gallowgate no less, after a Celtic Rankers Derby, from the Junction of Bell Street and Great Dovehill. They must have x-ray vision and x10 (at least) optical zoom binoculars. There was no court in the land would convict on the say so of these two idiots. I wish I could have read their names but Robocop was illiterate and his writing was illegible. All I could glean from the ticket was they were from London Road Copshop. So if yer reading this ya pair of pricks. Yer a pair of pricks.

I eventually got a pish when I got to Motherwell Rail Station. Argyle street, predictably, never had facilities. The cunts did meet their goal. They ruined my day out. There was no way I was paying that £40 penalty. Even if it was 40p. Everyone told me, “Just pay it, it’s only £40” but anyone that knows me, knows I’m a stubborn bastard when I know I’m in the right.

Image of where Polis tried to extort money from the me

Picture of locus courtesy of Google Earth

And the letter I got from Pitt Street after I sent the ticket back saying not guilty.

letter withdrawing anti social behaviour ticket

Don’t pay it. Demand your day in court. That will soon put a stop them dishing them out.

I’ve defended myself successfully in court for refusing to pay spot fines. You only encourage them by paying them. Don’t pay. You deserve justice and your day in court. Most times they don’t even bother taking it to court. If you ever need advice on what to do when these cunts try this shite with you, just contact me and I’ll help you as much as I can. I’ll even appear on your behalf. They will not give legal aid because there is no chance of you going to jail if found guilty. That’s why I’ve been forced to act for myself in court. But I have never lost. And as I say I have never paid a spot fine in my life apart from one occasion when I didn’t want my other half to know where I was with her motor one day. Plus I was bang to rights anyway.

I’m not kidding. The more people who stand up and say no to spot fines and refuse to pay, the sooner they will stop this form of extorting money from those of us who can least afford it. It cost’s them money for  a PF, a court clerk, a fat polis, a justice of the peace and court time if you demand your day in court. For £40 or £60 or whatever it is, it’s just economic sense to just drop it. And if you are innocent, which you are, as they are asking you to pay a fine without any admission of guilt, then fight them in court. Or at least be ready to. Most likely they will withdraw the complaint. But as I say, if you are in any doubt, don’t hesitate to contact me and I will do anything to help. No charge. No expenses. I just want to beat the bastards at their own game. This offer is for anyone no matter your race, creed or background.