Shaken Glaswegians recount New Year tsunami horror

In a terrible echo of the Boxing Day disaster of 2004, a New Year's Day earthquake off the west coast of Scotland triggered a tsunami that surged up the River Clyde, inundated the centre of Glasgow and in the process caused several pounds worth of damage and woke many of the inhabitants prematurely from the after-effects of their Hogmanay revels.

"I ran for my life," said the proprietor of Tam's Tattoos, in an interview with a local radio station. "I thought the drains were playing up again."

"We were shittin oorsels tae," echoed Kelly-Marie, a seventeen-year-old mother of three. "I took half a dozen Temazepam, but was still shaking as I watched folk talking about it on Trisha afterwards."

Rescuers searching for survivors have had to deal with the trauma of discovering the property of lost family and friends, including many deeply personal belongings such as benefit books, Argos jewelry and collections of dance CDs from Ibiza. Only the deluge arriving at 9am on a holiday meant that casualty rates were not higher. "Jeez-o. We were lucky really," exclaimed one dazed resident of Govan. "If it hadn't been a holiday, all the postmen would have out delivering our Girocheques. Losing them would have been a real disaster."

With chip shops for miles around devastated, many Italian families have been made homeless, raising the dreaded spectre of starvation for the area's survivors. "We tried to sandbag the door with battered haggis wrapped in deep-fried pizza, but it was no use," wept an emotional Luigi Bellini, a mass of empty Irn Bru bottles bobbing about his ankles. "And once we get this place pumped out, we'll have to change the fat in the deep fryer."

Even the artistic community has suffered agonizing loss. Surveying a sewage-streaked warehouse wall, Wee Davey McLeod was close to tears. "Yon graffiti was my life's work," he sobbed. "I was up for the Turner Prize this year. Could have won it, tae. Even with a lottery grant, there's no way I'll get it restored in time."

Although the worst was over in a few hours, as the deadly waters receded, several areas of historic and scientifically significant rubbish were swept away downriver, making the Clyde impassable to shipping as far as Greenock. Here, the Liberian-registered oil tanker George Galloway ran aground, its propellers clogged by black bin liners.

Among the many personal tragedies, one positive item of news has been a revived sense of community spirit. This was typified by the local sub-aqua club working through the night to recover the contents of submerged off licences. In unaffected areas, city life continued almost as normal, except for a sharp increase in the number of aggressive beggars, aka charity collectors for the relief work. In George Square, a riot ensued when Big Issue sellers outnumbered ordinary pedestrians by three to one.

Outside help has been slow to arrive, however. Speaking from his offices at the new £431m Scottish Parliament in Edinburgh, First Minister "I'm All Right, Jack" McConnel explained that dealing with tsunamis was not a devolved matter and that central government at Westminster were responsible. Contacted for an explanation of their tardy response to the disaster, Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott issued the following statement. "Now we've had time to assess the situation, the whole cabinet recognizes the terrible sufferings of ordinary Glaswegians. The government is doing everything in its power to alleviate the situation and I would like to salute the heroism of our rescue services in their continuing efforts. Private enterprise is also playing its part. For example, I've been promised that the pie shops of Humberside will make up any shortfall until things are back to normal."

Despite this assurance, the bulk of aid work has been left to charities, who have worked feverishly to ship in container-loads of Lambert & Butler, Buckfast and Carlsberg Special Brew to help pacify the stricken masses. Also desperately needed is warm clothing. An appeal has been launched in Liverpool and Essex for surplus baseball caps, tracksuits, Tesco own-label trainers and white sports socks. Of course, cash donations are always welcome, as are biros for filling out compensation claims.

Eventually, news of the calamity has reached the world stage. Asked if he would help organize a "Clyde Aid" charity gig, Sir Bob Geldof looked doubtful. "Glasgow? No fookin way, José. Last time I played there with The Boomtown Rats, some moron hit me on the head with a half-full can of cider. Midge Ure can sort it."

Meanwhile, part-time Tory spokesman and full-time buffoon Boris Johnson was interviewed on BBC Radio 4's Today programme. After expressing his opinions that, "the whole city is one big calamity, so what difference does it make?" and "most Glaswegians could do with a wash, anyway", his mobile phone rang.

"Yes, David. No, David," he answered cringingly. "No, I don't want to be sacked again. I'll get up there right away." Turning to an aide, he added, "Bugger! Cameron wants me to go and apologize. I wish he'd make his mind up. He told me last week he didn't give a stuff about Scotland. See if you can find me a Kevlar vest and some water wings, will you."

Previously

• Billy Connolly walks on Ken Bigley murder rap
• Bono slams new Scottish parliament
• Scottish title race hots up