A Deal with the Devil - Diana Hunter

It all began one Old Firm night, long, long ago, as the days grew shorter in the year. The expectation of the Hogshead being full with Huns and Tims had resulted in us forgoing our usual haunt in favour of the honourable establishment five minutes further on the road.

Upon entering Uisge Beatha, all manner of fantastical sights entered our vision. Strange beasts festooned the walls and guarded the upper reaches, where an extravagant collection of single malts marched rank on rank down the length of the bar.

As the tenth hour of the evening approached, more company of the GUM Club found their way to our circle. All grew merry and boisterous until at last a hunched shape at the end of the bar slammed his tankard to the wood and demanded peace.

Our din and racket, declared he, had progressed far enough and his ears had taken offence to our innocent fun. Seeking to pacify him, some few of our fellowship engaged him in conversation over several more tankards, and discovered his occupation during our discourse. He held the rank of Bar Manager to an establishment in Glen Coe known as The Clachaig Inn.

Now by happy coincidence, this place is commonly frequented by our club at diverse times throughout the year but most regularly at the beginning of September when the uncountable hoards of the newly initiated descend. Upon realising this he lost no time in admonishing us on our sever lack of foresight and manners as we had never given him warning of our arrival in Glen Coe. Promising never again to display such a lack of regard, we set about repairing the GUMC/Clachaig relations with yet another round of finest ale.

Feeling then that perhaps an olive branch was required, we offered him a choice of garment from our stock of such things. He, saying this was uncalled for, declared that a mutual exchange would be far more appropriate and so set about drawing up an agreement to be signed by both parties detailing the particulars of this exchange.

And so, surrounded by witnesses, we hammered out a document to the satisfaction of all parties involved. The mainstays of this agreement revolved around the exchange of ten GUMC shirts for twenty of the equivalent Clachaig attire, with the proviso that during the following Fresher's Meet, the serving staff would be clothed in our design and our Boat Race team would be dressed in Clachaig garb. Also the pledge would be honoured to provide the ale required for the Boat Race gratis.

Our deal completed, we toasted our alliance with foaming tankards and promised to meet again when the Old Firm clashed once more. Accordingly, the pact would be fulfilled when next we happened by the hallowed portals of The Clachaig Inn, our noble blue steed bearing us there.

All that remains of our tale is to hope that our unbroken record of Boat Race wins remains and our freshers outdo themselves in drunken debauchery the Clachaig Inn this year.