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Jefferson Aurelio looked around, shaken. Something had gone very, very wrong. Moments ago he had been perfectly happy, sitting by the pool, sipping on a cool lager. Now, he found himself in what appeared to be a particularly plush office, with some very old looking trophies in a cabinet on the wall. There was also a faint smell lingering in the air, like that smell you get when you extinguish a candle.
Welcome to Hampden Park. Let me show you through to Mr Aurelio's office.
Jefferson heard the voice from outside his door. For the first time he noticed that the word REGANAM was printed on the window. At least it seemed to say that, some of the letters were back to front.
Jefferson's mind, already working overtime, was pushed to its limit when a small, rotund, baldy guy he had never seen before in his puff walked, nay, waddled into the room and spoke in terms most familiar:
Jefferson, my boy! I want you to meet somebody.
Jefferson shakily rose to his feet, no longer confident that the ground would support him.
This is Patrick O'Callaghan. You'll know him by reputation, of course.
If he was honest with himself, Jefferson had never heard of this guy before.
Of course. Hello, Mr O'Callaghan. Welcome to...
What had the wee fat baldy guy said again?
Hampden Park, welcome.
Mr O'Callaghan is here to discuss a new venture between the club and the local community. It's not anything you need to worry about, but I thought you'd like to be introduced.
Of course, thank you.
They left.
Jefferson sank into what was clearly an expensive chair. The sleek leather was cool to the touch and his entire body sank into the soft, comfortable seat. Something strange had happened..was happening. But how to work out just what that was?
Perhaps an hour later, maybe a little less, maybe a little more, O'Callaghan came back.
Hello Jefferson.
Hello
You really have no idea who I am, do you?
Of course I do. To be frank, I'm insulted at the insinuation
Jefferson wasn't a good actor at the best of times and now, under duress, he was worse than that.
No you don't, you've never heard of me. Do you know how I know that?
How?
Because I don't exist.
If everything seemed weird before, it sure as heck seemed weirder now. But the dark is always darkest just before it stops being dark. That wasn't a real proverb, but in Jefferson's head it seemed to make sense.
Let me explain.
Please do.
Everything is upside down.
Say what now?
Upside down. Everything. Well, not everything - if it helps move the plot along, things can be the right way up. Author's privilege. What's important is that the entire Scottish football structure is upside down, and you - who know nothing much about football - are manager of a Premier League side. Queen's Park to be precise.
Welcome to Hampden Park.
O'Callaghan left. Aurelio didn't move at first, thinking through what he had heard. Then he laughed. And laughed.
Tisn't a rip off. OK, so the teams are switched around, their reputations left intact, but the league reputations have also switched. So it would seem to be more prestigious to be in the 3rd division than the 2nd, etc. Whether that was wiped out on loading the game, I do not know, but I will presume it remains.
We'll see how it works out. Already noticable is that the ex-SPL sides have much lower player values for their reserves, though on the other hand an approach from QP for a 2nd or 3rd division player has them saying they don't want to drop down the leagues!
Storm in a Glass Bottle of Irn Bru 
Linear Mode
