Glasgow blockade

The Buddhists had been hard at it since the morning. A beautiful PEACE banner and a meditation patch greeted our arrival on the scene. As expected there were cordons and barricades a go-go. We hesitated between doing a reccy or just goin for it with the bed. Opting for the former – cos traffic seemed light – we headed up to socialise, share food and drink and indulge in a bit of pre-theatre. Possibly a mistake. As the polis, sensing the arrival of fresh protestors, called for reinforcements. Again we were in two minds between meditating for a while or carrying-on regardless. Down in the Faslane cemetery car park five minutes later in our hospital mob caps and tunics, the resemblance to Hattie Jacques and Kenneth Williams was more than passing. A strange procession. The Hitman and Her (Tony and his lackey) led the way, while the bed-fellows followed. Singing was a fine way of concentrating our minds on the task in hand. In true all talk and no trousers style Tony pontificated with the gathered gaggle of demonstrators as we looked for an opening. A MAKE WARDS NOT WAR banner hung large. Suddenly the buzz words “ Patient coming through!” and a storming of the barricades. The male nurses ploughed forward , the doctors scattered, the bed hit the deck, the patient lost his head, and Brian stuck an arm up a leg. Bingo! Lock-on successful. Meanwhile the Blairite acolyte had run away with the tea-urn, only to be wrestled to the ground by three polis. Some sport ensued. Our legal eagles were beady-eyed through it all . “ Go limp” they shouted with one voice. One does forget! Meanwhile Tony was on a super-sprinter ticket and had vaulted the barrier down by the gate instead of sitting on the fence. All was in full swing!