The Rebels

Glasgow, October 1993 An unrelenting rain descended from a slate-grey sky as Tony McCandlish emerged from Queen Street Station, collar turned up against the weather and hands buried deep in hispockets. Glasgow wore its usual autumn melancholy, the rainwater coursing along the gutters like the city itself was trying to wash something away. He glanced at his mate, Andy McGee, and nodded towards the low, brooding sky. ‘I read that by the year 2000, Glasgow’s gonna be a city of skyscrapers...