Things remained reasonably quiet as the Bumble, Charlie and Priscilla knocked back even more tipples and devoured lunch. Thankfully they all dozed off for the next few hours, so I had a bit of peace to kick off my shoes and start reading a biography of Elvis. I had just put my book down to get a cup of coffee and light a cig, when I noticed Priscilla’s head was resting on Charlie’s shoulder. The Bumble was showing signs of coming to life, so I leant across and gave her a shove. Instantly she came to and gave the Bumble a glare. His eyes slowly registered her. ‘Whit’s up with your torn face?’ he said.

‘Nowt’ she said, ‘that canny be fixed by punching yours, ya fat fuck!’

A few heads half turned in our direction, including the priest who had been engrossed his National Geographic.

‘Who are you looking at? shouted the Bumble in his direction, adding, ‘Bet you buy that magazine tae look at the native girls tits!’

The stewardess lassie approached and asked if we could keep things down and not resort to profanities or insult other passengers while aboard the aircraft. I smiled and reassured her that it wouldn’t happen again.

‘Hey hen, while yer on yer feet can ye get me another whisky,’ said the Bumble unabashed.

I sighed and thanked her yet again for her patience and understanding, like a parent in charge of two unruly teenagers. Charlie, I noticed had conveniently slipped away down the aisle to stretch his legs. The two protagonists sat and said nothing to each other for a few moments, then Priscilla got up and announced that she was away tae stretch her legs and all. The Bumble sipped his whisky and muttered. ‘Devils spawn every one of them,’ he said. ’Got a fag?’

I gave him one then got up to head for the cludgie in the tail section. Most people had settled into a routine of either sleeping, reading or listening to the inflight music selection. Some had opted for the movie, which was playing without sound on a screen about twenty feet in front. We had all declined to pay for headsets, as listening tae crap that featured Richard Gere was definitely a waste of money...too bad it was’nae a film that featured him in hospital having the hamster extracted from his sphincter. There again maybe that’s just an urban myth. I tried both toilet doors but they were occupied, so I hung about and looked out a window. There was nothing worth seeing apart from the Atlantic below.

It was just then that I heard the low moans of a woman who seemed to be in pain in one of the toilets. For a moment I thought that it might be due to constipation but then it slowly dawned on me that she was having sex. Not wishing to hang about, I thought I’d head back to my seat but I froze as I heard a familiar accent.

‘Oh ma Goad, oh Goad!’ It was Priscilla and for some reason I could feel my face becoming flushed.

‘Whits up with you?’ There was another familiar voice close to me -the Bumble’s.

‘Eh, nothing,’ I said. A second later there was another low moan from the cludgie, which built up to a howl like a wolf baying to the moon. It was followed by a scream that shattered the stillness of the entire plane. The Bumble and I exchanged glances and then we examined the bog door as though a mythical beast was about to burst out. Turning, I saw we had attracted the attention of every passenger and some of the cabin staff, who were heading in our direction. Taking a deep breath I looked out of the window to the ocean below and swear I saw a polar bear on an iceberg waving to me as the Titanic steamed towards it.

The red occupied sign on the door slid back and a tousled and flushed looking Priscilla stuck her nose out. ‘Jeezus fuck!’ she exclaimed and promptly slammed the bog door closed returning the lock to its occupied sign. It was at that point the Bumble went into denial as he firstly glanced at me then the cludgie.

‘Eh, did you see Priscilla there?’ he asked me.

I could have attempted a lie and said it was a look-alike but she was unmistakable and I would’nae insult the Bumble’s intelligence, limited as it was. The proverbial penny dropped with him and he went aff the deep end. ‘Open up, ya good for nuthin bitch! Open it noo!’ he shouted, banging his fist on the cludgie door.

I took hold of his arm. ‘Davie, c’mon,’ I said, ‘this is’nae the time or place for a stramash. We’ve got a captive audience watching us.’

‘Tae fuck with them! Tae fuck with you! Let go of ma arm!’

There seemed to be no reasoning with him as his senses left him. A potential hostage situation developed at thirty thousand feet as he hammered the door, threatening all manner of unpleasantries if Priscilla and Charlie didn’t come out.

‘Hey Buddy, shut up and sit down!’ came a voice from the crowd but it was to no avail.

‘You in there an’ all Macleod?’ shouted the Bumble. I wondered for a moment if the plane’s lavvie had turned into a Tardis to accommodate the two of them. ‘Ya bloody snake in the grass!’ the Bumble yelled. ‘Ya relationship wrecker! No had any recently so ya thought ye’d shag ma bird, ya bastard!’

At that point I really did think he was going to have a stroke. His face went puce and he sat down on the floor, his back against the bog door. Two stewardesses, who had been apprehensive at approaching ran towards us as I knelt down. ‘Out of the way sir,’ the older of two said, as she felt for a pulse in his neck. She then asked me to help her to stretch him out on the aisle while the other lassie brought a small oxygen cylinder with a mask, which she placed over his nose and mouth. From the cludgie I could hear Priscilla telling the Bumble not tae be such a radge and tae keep the heid. I wasthinking the Bumble was a goner, when I heard this soft American male voice behind me. ‘Can I help?’ It was the priest. ‘I was in the medic in my younger days,’ he said.

‘By all means Father.’ I stood aside.

‘Got to loosen his clothing. It restricts the circulation,’ he said as he undid the belt on the Bumble’s trousers.

At that moment the Bumble came out of his torpor. ‘What the fuck!’ he exclaimed, swinging a punch at the priest.

Grabbing his arm I held it and said, ‘No Davie, the guy is trying tae help ye!’

‘I’ve heard about his type, taking advantage of the weak and the innocent!’ replied the Bumble from the floor, looking like a washed up whale that people were trying to refloat.

‘I’m sorry Father,’ I said to the priest as he stood up.

‘I’m not a priest,’ he said, ‘I’m a minister, of the First Presleyterian Church of Memphis.’

‘Did ye hear that Davie? The reverend here is one of our lot. He’s a Presbyterian.’ By this time, the Bumble was sitting up, his back once more resting against the cludgie door and we had been joined by one of the aircrew, a young mid-twenties lad, who told us they would have an ambulance standing by in Memphis, and a police escort if there was any more trouble. I smiled and was assuring him that it had all been a misunderstanding when Priscilla opened the bog door and the Bumble’s head fell inside and he was left staring upwards at Priscilla and Charlie. Needless to say it didn’t do his condition any good and he started ranting and lashing out at them like some tormented soul in Bedlam.

The minister and myself tried to haul the Bumble away by his legs but only succeeded in making matters worse. His trousers got pulled down to his ankles and Priscilla was stomping on him with her heels. I could see Charlie squeezed into the corner of the cludgie with a thoughtful expression on his face that probably was a wish for an ejector seat. Overall, the stramash was not a pretty sight and it seemed as though half the passengers on the plane had gathered to watch.

Half an hour later, with a selection of profanities, we had managed to separate the warring parties. Charlie and Priscilla had been advised to move into another section of the plane, and under the circumstances there would be no objection to them being in first class. I got to chaperone the Bumble in economy. To make matters worse the Bumble was refused any further alcohol and we were still several hours away from landing in Memphis. It would take the diplomatic skills of Henry Kissinger to resolve this dispute, I thought, as I got my cigs out and gave one to the Bumble.

‘How could she?’ he kept muttering. ‘How could she?’

I really didn’t know what to say.

The minister nodded across occasionally, so after a while when I thought the Bumble had calmed down enough, I wandered over and thanked him for his help, which was a mistake as the Bumble took the opportunity to steam off in the direction of first class. . I was saying to the minister that if he had any words of advice I would be grateful for them, when one of the stewardesses came running towards me. ‘My Gad!’ she said. ‘Do something. I think they’re going to kill each other.’ Fearing the worst for the Bumble, I ran the best I could towards the front of the plane and found a crowd had gathered in the first class lounge area to watch the punch up. Pushing my way through I was almost tempted to explain I was a Scotsman and that what they were witnessing was quite natural for our race. But the scene that greeted me was not what I expected — it was’nae Charlie knocking nine bells out of the Bumble, but Priscilla. She had him on the floor with her thighs wrapped round his neck and was slowly squeezing the life force out of him while a Yankee female cheered her on with a ‘Go sister!’ Priscilla had neglected to put her knickers, on so it was a fate worse than death for the Bumble.

‘Some girl eh?’ said Charlie, as I turned round to see him looking nonchalant with a glass of whisky in his hand.

‘Get her the fuck off me!’ the Bumble gasped and attempted to unravel her thighs.

‘Aren’t you going to do something?’ I said to Charlie.

He took on a thoughtful expression. ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I’ll get another round of drinks. She’ll need one after this.’

Sighing deeply, I watched as the Bumble writhed around and pleaded that he could choke on his false teeth. Nobody, including the cabin staff, approached them.

‘Here,’ said Charlie, handing me a whisky he had liberated from the galley, ‘Better than the wrestling on telly this.’

‘Maybe,’ I said, ‘but she was his partner and you are his friend.’

‘These things happen,’ said Charlie quite calmly and took a sip of whisky. The crowd gasped and oohed as the Bumble got hold of one of Priscilla’s red stiletto’s and attempted to batter her with it. Sadly, he was just too short on the reach.

This has to stop, I thought, as the Bumble had gone puce again and was losing badly. I scanned around and saw there was a fridge in the galley. Opening it I caught sight of a compartment that had bags of ice, so I tipped a couple into a chrome ice bucket and topped it up with water. By the time international rescue got to the scene, the Bumble’s eyes were popping out of his heid. Taking Priscilla’s hair in one hand I pulled her back and poured the contents of the ice bucket down her cleavage.

‘Ya fuckin radge!’ she screamed, while the the Bumble wriggled free. ‘Ya fuckin bastard!’ She got up and tried to shake the ice cubes down her front, lifting the odd one from her cleavage, in between drawing me daggers. ‘Yer dead! Yer fuckin’ deid! she told me while the crowd gave a round of applause.

I handed the bucket over to a slack-jawed steward. ‘I’m worried,’ I said to Priscilla. ’Oh and by the way your collar and cuffs don’t match.’

She made to have a punch at me but Charlie caught her arm and held her back. Before the situation got any worse an announcement came over the tannoy system from the captain: the plane was diverting to Chicago. A few moments later the captain appeared in person with his engineer and told us that we were the cause of the diversion and that we were being given the heave-ho for our behaviour. I don’t suppose I could argue with the guy, but Chicago was a long way off from Memphis.

I took the Bumble back to our seats in economy. We didn’t say anything to each other as he sat rubbing his throat and neck while chain smoking. Priscilla and Charlie were left up front. I glanced across at the minister but he had returned to his National Geographic.

About an hour later we landed at Chicago to be escorted from the plane by the police. They weren’t taking any chances and we were handcuffed and led off to the terminus while the rest of the passengers applauded. I turned to the Bumble as we were being ushered along. ‘Well here’s another fine mess you’ve gotten me into,’ I said.