I asked Sir David Murray something straight out about Rangers 15 years ago and we haven’t spoken since – Keith Jackson

There's an old adage which ought to be etched in stone when it comes to the business of column writing.

It’s the ‘I’s, my’s and me’ rule. In normal circumstances, those words should be avoided at all costs and, preferably, outlawed entirely.

Their use tends to demonstrate a narcissistic, egotistical disposition and very often it results in laughter behind the back. Rightly so.

So you’ll have to excuse me just this once. Because, on this occasion, the subject matter happens to be so deeply personal that a bit of blatant self indulgence is required.

There’s no other way of saying it and little point in beating about the bush. I liked Sir David Murray. If truth be told, deep down I admired the man.

But the fact is we haven’t spoken for the best part of 15 years and it’s highly unlikely that we ever will again.

We didn’t fall out. As far as I can recall there was never a cross word spoken.

Rather, we simply ended up encamped on two sides of a divide at a point in time when Murray was attempting to convince the world that black was Whyte. And when it was my job to call it out.

So, now that Murray has broken cover and told his own story by releasing an autobiography, allow me this chance to explain.

The Murray that I got to know as a young reporter was a genuine behemoth.

He was Scotland’s Jordan Belfort. The Wolfe of Charlotte Square.

His personality was so huge and so much larger than life that simply being in his presence felt oddly intoxicating.

He also inherently understood that fostering healthy media relations was all part of the game. And he was more than happy to play it.

Phone him and he’d almost always pick up. Ask him questions and he’d almost always provide a straight answer. Yes, there would be instances when, in