Tap Shop Tartan Army. Interview with the Captain

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An interview with The Captain

You are The Captain of the TSTA?
I am that. You see my lot they are magic. Look they even bought me a Captain’s armband that matches my kilt.

You are a popular chap then with the TSTA?
Of course. I’ve even got a song they sing about me. Want to hear it?

Bairdy’s the Captain of our ship, of our ship.
Bairdy’s the Captain of our ship, of our ship
and the ship’s a tanker and Bairdy is a really handsome bloke

They tell me you are not too good at the old map reading?
The bastards. Who told you? I bet it was that diddy of a brother of mine.
OK, OK ooh la, la, la, la, la, hey! I was lost in France; looking for a bog.

I was on the metro in Paris (that’s a train by the way not the free paper) and I was bursting for a leak. You know what I mean? I was knock-kneed sword dancin’ round a fag packet, gagging on the train to stop. The rest of the TSTA were going on to the Eiffel Tower but I had to get off one stop early so I waved goodbye with both fingers.

So they left you?
Aye they were great though. They said they would look after my cairry oot for me by showing it to me through the window as the train doors closed. Anyway, as soon as I got off the train I answered the call of nature. This wee frog said “Seez a fag” so I gave him two. See me? I’m cunilingual. I understood exactly what he meant. Then he said to me had I seen Pig Al? I said “Naw but if I can get reunited with my cairry oot again I will see pigs fly”. He said Pig Al was great so I decided to chum him to meet this thoroughly nice bloke. On the way I explained I knew someone that was called Pig Sars but then I told him I was mistaken, I was simply describing the Vice Captain’s coupon!

So did you meet Pig Al?
You’re never going to believe this, Pig Al isn’t even a person, it’s a place.

So what kind of place was it Captain?
Well the first thing I noticed was there must be a heck of a lot of traffic problems as all the lights were at red. Hundred of pubs too like. Anyway, this barmaid was wearing a wee bikini behind the bar. The central heating could not have been working in the pub. Her volume knob and her tuning knob were both out (come to think of it so was mine). So, I said in my best French “Haw hen Ah’m The Captain” and she said “and I will be zour milkymaid, zou cheeky zittle boy”.

I was disgusted. Imagine trying to sell me milk. I’m The Captain. I don’t do milk. I told her to stick it right up her arse as I prefer a pint of the golden stuff. She said she could do that too but it would cost lots of Euros apparently.

What happened next?
Well some Van Damme look alike catapulted me head first through the double doors. I landed on my nostrils which was sore but cushioned due to the dog turd helping ot break the fall. All because I asked for a pint of lager. Now I know it’s true when they say the French are not friendly.

And then?
Well I eventually found a pub that did sell lager and got absolutely monged whilst trying to read a metro map. I decided to have a pint for every station that wa son the on the black line. Shame it was a black and white map I had, so I got blootered. I missed the game and couldn’t even remember the name of our hotel. Then as luck would have it I sobered up seven hours later in time for breakfast….a nice wee rum. Bairdy is indeed The Captain of our ship!