Bruce Waddell: ‘Paul really, really cared about people. And his gestures were never short of grand’

That was on 6 December, just 48 hours after leaving my job as editor-in-chief of the Daily Record and Sunday Mail.

My reply to Paul McBride was simple: “Too kind, but too much to think about.”

I meant it. But then so did he. He really, really cared about people. And his gestures were never short of grand.

He was already in Barbados, of course. And if I’d actually taken him up on his mad offer, he would have delivered on his promise. He always did.

In the eight years I knew Paul I could never figure out why this brilliant legal operator would want to come and park his pinstripes in our newspaper office. But he did.

He would just appear, bright tie usually hanging far too low, designer glasses, squint because he’d sat on them again. And he would simply wander around, sometimes for the whole day. He was very welcome, naturally, and when it came down to the business end of a hectic news day, having Scotland’s top QC perched on a desk and answering legal queries brought enormous comfort.

But I would always ask myself: Why? What the hell were you doing there, Paul? Was it the buzz of a newsroom? Was it the verbal sparring? Our guys were good at that, but you were always better. No, you really were. I promise.

Didn’t he have a big case to be going on with? Was a courtroom really that tedious?

Or was it more simple. Did he just want to know what the hell was going on in Scotland? Knowledge and opinion… Paul McBride knew a lot and, in the past year, had spoken a lot, too.

Maybe too much.

On numerous occasions I had tried to coax him away from being the flavour-of-the-moment expert on football, the SFA, on politics, on sectarian issues and to get back to what he was brilliant at: being our top QC. He listened, agreed with me, then I’d turn on the radio the next day and hear the words: “And joining us in our Glasgow studio… Paul McBride.”

He loved it and couldn’t say “no”. And it was never going to change. He just loved the drama and there was no better place than centre stage.

And then he was gone.

Like so many on Sunday lunchtime I sat, quite unbelieving, as text after text arrived saying the same thing: “Have you heard about Paul?” Even now I still can’t take it in.

He will be such a miss in so many lives. I owed him the next three dinners.

It’s not that I hadn’t tried to pay on every occasion. It’s just that he had a very special Amex card made of metal that he couldn’t stop telling you about then flashing. Infuriating man. And a mischievous one, too.

At a sports award ceremony in Glasgow last May, Paul had been invited to one of the three top tables. He clearly felt snubbed perched between a sportswriter and an SPL defender. However, by the time we were ready to take our seats, not only had he somehow managed to manoeuvre himself on to table No 1, but his place name was mysteriously right next to that of then-new Rangers owner Craig Whyte. Paul ended up hogging him all night long. Knowledge. Result.

I have read some wonderful tributes this week… most of them to the Paul McBride I didn’t know. The one in a wig, the legal genius, the man who was never afraid to challenge authority. He was all of those things. The Paul that vanished from our media life was a different one.

He was the one that couldn’t sit still for two minutes, the one who wanted you purring about his silver Bentley, the one who knew about the private lives of footballers and kept it all to himself… always.

Same man. Different tribute. Paul, you will be missed sorely by so many people.

• Bruce Waddell is director of media at The Big Partnership