Glasgow comes to a standstill when two well-mannered men collide.

Such has been the gradual diminishing of manners from generation to generation that this is now a quite seldom occurrence. Although history books seem to recall this phenomenon occurring regularly – sometimes right up to the 1960s.

It is now probable to suggest that there is, at most, one person of a polite nature present at any one time in the city. Of course from time to time it is logical to hypothesise that there may be two, maybe even three, of these anomalies traversing the streets. But of course the large geographical area involved would preclude them from ever meeting. These men (and they are men, for what is a women without manners?) would float through the streets – one in Springburn, perhaps another in Shawlands – enchanting the disillusioned masses with their peculiar code (“please”? ”thank you”?) and their amiable disposition.

But what if by some quirk of fate their paths were to cross?

Modern Glasgow has not witnessed such an event for many a year, to the extent that the younger inhabitants debated whether it was an urban legend. Although many of the older residents still regaled the bars with stories of the great meeting of 1942 which backed the Gallowgate up on both sides after two polite men had attempted to cross the road at the same time.

Glasgow as it is now, devoid of it’s mannered past, was not ready for the statistical anomaly made flesh that was to befall it.

The corner of St. Vincent Street and West Nile Street.
They both stopped at once to allow the other passage, as was their custom, and as they both retained their respective positions a strange smile infiltrated both their faces.

“On you go mate” prompted one.
“Nah, after you big man” replied the other.

By this point there began to form a swarm of angry people, attempting to negotiate this man made obstacle. But still the loop of politeness continued unabated.

“Och, get yerself away, I insist”
“Not at all, I’m not gonnae have a gent like yourself getting out the way for me”

A group of Japanese tourists pulled themselves away from taking photos of the architecture to witness this spectacle. They threw pound coins adjacent to the point were the two men met, mistaking this show of manners as some kind of street theatre.

This mannered exchanged continued for a further five hours, with neither man budging from his chosen spot – frozen like Venetian statues in bizarre poses. The crowd swelled significantly as the word spread and even reporters from The Daily Record and The Evening Times turned up to cover the event.

At last the police arrived. As they exited the van they were greeted by a cacophony of boos from the gathered audience – as they were witnessing history in the flesh, so they knew that all history must pass and that the police were the men to push this great meeting into the recorded tomes.

Even as they were being lifted into the back of the van (the policeman citing ‘breach of the peace’ or some other such antiquated act) the politeness continued unfettered. The police struggled with them as they both attempted to hold the door of the police van open for the other. The crowd roared in approval as the two men were driven off to the cells, deep in their hearts they knew they’d never see their likes again.