My good friend Thomas Kerr, leader of the Conservative group on Glasgow City Council, has provided an update on my ongoing campaign to have Scotland’s legendary AC/DC honoured by the city.

The Young brothers, Angus and Malcolm (God rest him), were born and raised in Cranhill in the north east of the city before emigrating to Australia. 

For reasons that have always been unclear to me the city fathers and mothers have resisted previous attempts to commemorate Glasgow’s connection to the world’s greatest living rock band.

Councillor Kerr tells me he’s currently seeking some cross-party support for the campaign for a statue before taking it to the chamber in October.

Herald readers will know that the world-famous sculptor Andy Scott – the man who made the Falkirk kelpies – has already backed our campaign and is keen to sculpt the craggy features of the Young brothers himself. 

Cranhill hasn’t had its challenges to seek in recent years, but it’s a proud and sturdy neighbourhood. I played school football there against Cranhill Secondary for St Ninian’s, Kirkintilloch and can still remember scoring a late winner (after Michael Lewsley’s shot had been parried) in what can only be described as brass monkey temperatures. 

The success of Kirriemuir’s annual Bonfest shows the potential of making an inspired piece of public art linking AC/DC to Cranhill in perpetuity. Bonfest commemorates the band’s legendary singer Bon Scott who was born and raised in the douce Perthshire town. 

Similar to that, I can foresee an annual festival of music and culture celebrating the band in Cranhill. Cultural festivals are normally the preserve of people on whom it’s wasted and who regard them as garden parties at which to be seen. 

My sense here is that a Cranhill festival of AC/DC would provide the city with something much more authentic and one which would provide a much-needed economic boost to the area. 

It’s inconceivable that Glasgow City Council would pass up this opportunity to do something positive for a working-class area. Hell, I’m sure we could throw in some cycle lanes and make it all LEZ compliant to make the councillors feel better about it.

Blast from the past
The struggle to secure a fitting memento to the Young brothers takes me back to 2010 when I visited the site of the Battle of the Alamo in San Antonio. The Alamo, one of America’s most storeyed battles, was fought in 1836 between the Mexican army of General Santa Anna and a small garrison of Texans. 

The dead included four Scots: John McGregor (who played his pipes to keep up the spirits of Davy Crocket and his men), David Wilson, Isaac Robinson and Richard Ballentine. I was troubled to discover, though, that their sacrifice had been omitted from the short film about the battle made by the US National History unit while the assorted English, Irish and Germans who fought with the Texans were given due recognition. 

I then took it upon myself to open unofficial negotiations on behalf of the Scottish Government for a permanent memorial to the fallen Scots to be placed on the battle site. The splendidly-named Daughters Of The Republic Of Texas administered the battle site and were immediately open to the idea of a Scottish memorial. “We surely would be honoured if the Scotch Governmenet wanted to do this,” they told me.

When Kevin Pringle, then Alex Salmond’s senior special adviser, read my article about this in The Observer he swung into action and commissioned a little obelisk made of Caithness stone to commemorate those Scots who fell far from home. 

And thus it was that, a few months later, the stone was duly laid by an honour guard of Texas Rangers carrying our Scottish saltire, America’s stars and stripes, and the Texas lone star flag. A pipe band played Scotland the Brave and a lone piper played a lament. 

Anniversary goal
SEEING as we’re talking about monuments, surely it must be time for the Scottish Football Association to mark a special landmark in the development of the game in Scotland. Last week was the 50th anniversary of the day that the football authorities finally permitted women to play football on SFA-affiliated grounds. 

(Image: PA)

It marked an end to a dark chapter in Scotland where women and girls had been told by the dismal men who ran the game that they wanted nothing to do with them. This, despite the women’s game attracting massive home attendances during the First World War.

The esteemed Scottish sportswriter Alan Campbell has ploughed a lonely furrow championing the women’s game when most others ignored it. To mark this important anniversary, he recounted an uplifting story from the day after the ban was lifted. 

Jock Stein, Scotland’s greatest-ever football manager, invited a team of Scottish women footballers to play an exhibition match before Celtic’s European Cup tie with Greek champions Olympiakos.

Mr Campbell records the recollection of Elsie Cook who had taken the call from the Celtic manager. “After the game, Jock Stein stood at the tunnel and shook every lassie by the hand and thanked her very much,” Ms Cook recalled. 

Net gain
THE upwards development of women’s football has been one of the most joyous features of the game in recent years. It’s a pleasing antidote to the slow annexation of the men’s game by corrupt and brutal regimes such as Saudi Arabia and unfettered capitalism. 

Those male commentators who still insist on undermining it are missing something vital that goes well beyond their accusations of virtue-signalling. 

Football has offered a route out of poverty for young men from marginalised communities. At a basic level it gives them a sense of self-respect, achievement and the benefits of being part of a team. 

You simply cannot put a price on the importance of tens of thousands of women and young girls now getting to share in these opportunities. They are inspired by the heroes wearing the shirts of their favourite clubs.

I’m scornful of male pundits who say that female commentators shouldn’t be analysing top-class men’s football on the basis that they have never played at that level.    

This doesn’t stop an assortment of mediocre Scottish male professional hammer-throwers and scufflers offering their opinions on elite-level football miles above their skill sets.