Anyway, a police officer opened the turret with a big screw driver (I seem to remember), then shot the driver. My friend approved. A big gulf opened between us. My ex-friend was not violent, did not drink and seemed a decent, peaceful chap. To be charitable to the police officer, maybe he thought the tank could still cause damage, but it seemed murderous to me.
Guns in the community seem alien to most Scots, who have only ever seen them in museums and on TV. Not me, however. I once visited a friend who had a collection of antique firearms. He had been drinking heavily but was still at the witty and worldly-wise phase. As he talked he showed me some "black powder ".
I should have been alarmed when he got a flintlock out, but I was intrigued. "It whooshes you understand ..it doesn 't bang like cordite.. you can follow the path of the projectile as it flies along ...you put powder in ..then the round.. I made this myself .. in a mould you know.. "
I suddenly knew what he was going to do. The room filled with smoke, I was momentarily deafened. The smoke cleared. He had shot his boiler. It was dead! The room slowly filled with water and I nervously left as he called the plumber. "Davy ..do drop in for a whisky ... Oh ... and bring some spanners...I have a flood you see ... "
'Sorry, sir, you will have to wait 3 days. ... But I have an arms licence already ....
No sir ...you must wait for the Burgundy. It is French after all. "