It was the First of Times, it was the Last of Times, or so Angus Og of the Bog thought as he prepared for his turn in The World's End, famous as a 'traditional' Edinburgh pub and infamous as the starting point for what became known world-wide as 'The World's End Murders' of two teenage girls in 1977 who were last seen leaving the pub at closing time; the killer was not convicted until 2014, having been acquitted in a previous trial seven years before, and he was jailed for a minimum of 37 years, the longest sentence given by a Scottish Court, and the same number of years as had passed since the brutal killings, meaning he would not be considered for parole until he was 106; but tonight was about tonight, Angus Og's first return to the Performing Arts since he had been attacked in the toilets of the Deacon Brodie pub, further up the High Street, and left for dead with a stiletto shoe embedded in his skull; tonight he was nervous and it wasn't simply stage fright, appearing before a Festival audience in a venue better known for live bands, it was the fact that his memory was returning and he was worried that his attacker might be watching and following him on the crowded streets and could strike again; tonight, his pretty assistant was Bunty O'Hooligan and her twin sister, Dixie, was in the audience, seeming just a parergon but in fact acting as his Minder; it was a straightforward act – a punter would show something from his or her pocket or purse to Bunty and members of the audience sitting nearby, while Angus sat blindfolded on the small stage, the clock would start to count down thirty seconds, at the end of which Angus would identify the object to a round of applause (if he was right) or some laughter if he hedged a bit before giving the correct answer; it was an easy trick and there is no need to reveal how it was done, as most of my readers will already know, which Angus and Bunty had down to a T but it was the hint of occultation as he seemed to grasp at things invisible to his audience and, surely, to him also, in his blindfold state, that increased the tension when he seemed initially uncertain, would offer several close but wrong answers, or hesitate between two, before giving the right one definitively, which got the audience excited; if he was wrong, the punter would receive a twenty pound note, which Bunty waved over the Punter's head for all to see, but no-one ever did, because he was always right, obviously; nothing could go wrong and the show started well and in succession Angus correctly identified a keyring with three keys and a Darth Vader fob, a photograph of a blonde lassie named Margaret, a Senior Citizen's Bus Pass in the name of Mungo Maginley, and an envelope addressed to the Secretary of State for Scotland, David 'Fluffy' Mundell, who courageously stood to acknowledge that the answer was correct, to be met by a few claps and several shouts of "fuckin Tory bastard' which were quickly hushed by Angus: "c'mon Pals, the man's out for a night on the town, gonnie gie 'im a break!" which changed the cat-calling to laughter; then the difficult one came: a heavy set man wearing size 13 Police Scotland Beat Boots showed his object to Bunty, and then took hold of her wrist, preventing her from lifting her hand, the clock was started, and the audience counted the seconds down, the 15 second buzzer, more counting and the 30 second buzzer, the tension in the room crackled like electricity; Angus seemed weighed down by hebetude like an invisible hand crushing him until, with a great mental and physical effort he stood up, facing the audience, his face showing the strain he was under, one hand on the chair back to steady himself, and then began to speak in a voice that belied his nervousness: "aha, you might be getting your twenty quid, Pal, because there's a red aura around you and I'm having to work on this one, there's nothin banausic in this process, it's not just the blindfold that keeps me in the dark, it's the other forces at work here, I know that none of you can see them, but they're circlin around you, Pal, trying to stop me from seein what you're holdin, am ah warm? Bunty, is it black?" and despite the tight grip on her wrist, Bunty called back: "right there, Angus!" and a heartbeat: "am urny jist warm, am gettin hot, is it ane of a pair, Bunty?" and she struggled to control her voice: "right again, Angus!" two heartbeats: "now we're cooking wi gas, is it something you wear, Bunty?" and some cheering from the audience near the man, who had seen what it was: "not me, personally Angus, but someone else might!" Angus sat down and pressed his hands to his forehead, to show how hard he was working: "am fuckin smokin, Pal, you shouldna ha brought it here, it's footwear, ah think, strappy and sexy, the kinda thing a hoor might strut aboot on, or a hit man might use tae silence a witness! is it a stiletto shoe, Bunty?" and the man pushed her away before she could reply, and standing, threw the shoe directly and expertly at Angus' head, amid some cries and shouts from the audience; did Angus hear the whizz in the air, perhaps feet the air being buffeted as something came hurtling towards him, he threw himself to the right and the shoe, with the heel sharpened to a deadly point sliced through the place where his head had been a split second before and embedded itself in the wall behind him; the room erupted as the audience realised what had just happened, Bunty fell between the chairs, receiving a kick in the ribs as the man climbed over her and dashed for the door, pushing and shoving men and women out of his way, only to be tripped by Dixie's foot, and sent crashing to the floor himself; and then he was seized by the Bouncers, one sitting his thirty-stone weight on the man's chest, while the other snapped a pair of cuffs on his thick ankles, then cuffed his hands behind his back and called the Polis; it only took five minutes for two officers from the Grassmarket and Cowgate Community Policing Hub to arrive and identify the man as the newly appointed Chief Constable Sir Duncan Doubleday QPM and gleefully read him his rights while they waited for a Black Maria to arrive, after which he was taken to the Hub to be fingerprinted, have a DNA swab taken and his Mug Shot snapped – this was just the kind of arrest every Officer hopes to make and the Laphroaig would be flowing later when DI Gordon Brevity and Sergeant Goldy Brevity, his wife, arrived: "Attempted Murder, sir, tut-tut, and in front of a room-full of witnesses, oh-me-oh-my, filmed on a dozen phones, dearie me, not your day and not what we would have expected from someone of your experience, but every doggy has his day! now if you can't afford legal representation we can arrange for the Duty Solicitor to have a wee chat with you," and Doubleday snarled: "get me Martin Elginbrod!"