The air crackles with a mixture of trepidation and fervent hope as Scotland stands on the precipice of destiny. Duncan Ferguson, a titan of Scottish football, has thrown down the gauntlet, telling the current crop of Tartan Army heroes that Brazil “aren’t the team they were back in the day.” But as Steve Clarke’s side stare down the barrel of a potentially defining World Cup 2026 group stage…

One limped a little, and another had a stammer, one was cross-eyed, swarthy, and employed atrocious grammar; so we beat them with a pipe, and then a club, and then a plier, bending them like pretzels after binding them with wire, sending trite condolences with tappings of a hammer. One was far too clever, another drolly thick, one was hyper, one disfigured by a nervous tic; so we beat them with a…

The greatest courage is not needed for war, but for ordinary people growing old. Like soldiers, the aged are never very far from death: many are called, all are chosen. A soldier faces danger then retreats, but for the old, going back is not possible; they may hunger for youth but pray for the luck of a quick death. When one by one the body’s systems fail, they must be brave and face annihilation…