The Auld Boy

The Auld Boy carries himself like a retired institution. Cardigan buttoned, stick close at wing, tam o’ shanter at a slight angle, and usually no more than one sensible decision away from a pint of Tennent’s.

He claims to have worked professionally on the Clyde in the days of sailing ships, specialising in what he describes as “mast work”. Nobody has ever quite established whether this was a recognised trade, but his stories are delivered with enough detail to make challenging them feel unnecessarily risky.

He is not nostalgic for everything. He remembers bad weather, bad bosses, worse toilets and men who could ruin an afternoon by mentioning the Empire. What he distrusts is the modern belief that every old problem has somehow just been invented.

The Auld Boy is dry, stubborn, observant and very difficult to shock. He has a weakness for a good story, a proper pint and colourful language once the evening gets underway. After three pints, the Speaker’s thistle mascot becomes the Purple-Headed Prickly Bastard, and nobody has yet managed to improve on it.