'When I was at school there was this swotty effeminate kid who used to get picked on all the time.
His dad was minted and I remember him going out one weekend and buying every single colour Pringle jumper available at the time in a bid to ingratiate himself with the lads who had picked on him. He even gave a few away to his new-found friends.
He was the indisputable Pringle King, he even started to get a bit cocky.
Of course, time marched on, Pringles went out and as he couldn't really go to the match he was always too late in picking up on how the fashions had changed. He was no longer the Pringle King, just the chubby kid who lived in a newsagents. I felt a bit sorry for him sometimes but then remembered how cocky he'd been.
I saw him recently walking around town in his Yellow Diamond jumper, were nearly forty now so we're all grown up and stuff, I stopped him and asked how he was doing. Turns out he'd bought a small factory and some old jumper designs and was producing the "Bringle Dyamond" in an effort to introduce a new generation to the wonders of wooly golfwear. I told him it wouldn't work, that the Dyamond Bringle was a poor imitation of the original but he wouldn't have it. He refused to move on. So I moved on.
I don't know what reminded me of that.'
classic