Though hugely embarrassing, the fall-out from my castigation in the tabloids has been less severe than I expected, at least thus far. Apart from a few sharp words with one of the town drunks, some veiled , but naturally incoherent, threats from Rangers supporters and a barracking on the street by two drabs, most people have been very tolerant, some even going out of their way to express support for my views, barbarised though these were in the press. The pupils in my school have also shown themselves to be young men and women of warmth and true generosity of spirit. With such humanity and human potential in the town one wonders why it is in such a state of dismal decay, but I suppose the reasons are complex.
An exception to the generally sympathetic way I have been treated is , of course, that blaggard Theosyphilis Neil, merchant of Thistlemilk and local amputee, a man I trusted as a friend but who has in fact photocopied hundreds of copies of Chapter 6, laminated them, and intends to hawk them down the market on Saturday afternoon. I hope he is arrested or mistaken for me by a myopic member of the Masons who will beat him to a pulp.