Sometimes I go out by myself and I look across the water...

And whilst contemplating the silvery Tay I think to myself in a Michael Caine accent, "Self, what's it all about?". I stand there as the Sun goes down pondering the imponderables such as is there truth without beauty, what lies beyond the veil of death and can somebody be both a Dundee fan and a decent person. Eventually as the last misting of twilight hits the water I think fuck that for a game of soldiers and go to the pub to argue about last nights episode of Heroes with Irish Paul. Let's face it when push comes to shove, at the end of the day and when alls said and done it's not about whether the pint's half empty or full it's about who's on the next round.