Tuesday, 30 March 2010

Give them the boot!

The present Government has encountered a problem.
Come May 6th, you will need to re-boot.
Try and save what you have not already lost over the last thirteen miserable years.
If you have a recovery disc, dump it. It's an illusion.

Friday, 26 March 2010

A short sharp sentence

There are two types of people who visit police stations. Those with blankets over their heads and those without.
Happily, on my visit to the local station last week, I was without a blanket.
It seems, however, I was not without a blank expression.

"Can I help you, Sir?"
"Yes, can you tell me where the public meeting room is please?"
"Just go into the lift and press button four."

The Dundee accent is not the easiest to translate into English and so I understood the instruction to be "...go into the lift and press bottom floor".

Hopefully I'll be out by Monday.

Thursday, 25 March 2010

Go easy on the greasy pehs!

The whaling industry has returned to Dundee.

Or so you might think when confronted and affronted by the blubber that walks down the High Street each day.

Scotland is in the midst of an obesity epidemic and Dundee is at its heart.

But let’s not lose heart.

Our elected fatheads in Holyrood have at long last recognised the link between education and diet. Just how long it is since Simple Simon met a pieman I do not know, but surely that pastry encrusted clue didn’t take them that long to solve....?

Don’t get me wrong. There is nothing wrong with the occasional Dundee peh, as we lovingly call our local delicacy.

It's just that we need to encourage a different school of thought as well as a more svelte school of whales.

Wednesday, 24 March 2010

Alistair Darling. He gave with one hand...

I warned you.
He's a one-armed bandit.

Don't confuse the palette with my palate

The blurb described my local barista as an "artist".
To me, an artist mixes black and white to get grey.
A barista mixes black and white to get brown.
I don't 'do' grey coffee.

Tuesday, 23 March 2010

Let's outfox Guy Fawkes and get them one by one

Cast your mind back to the dying days of the last Tory Government.
Embroiled in sleaze, my lasting image is one of Neil Hamilton clinging on for dear life to the greasy pole of power. Whenever he did slip down a tad, there was his faithful wife Christine armed with a hat pin, ready to give him an encouraging prod.
Wind the clock forward to the present debauched administration.
It's not a hat pin they need up their jacksies so much as a stick of dynamite. And yet somehow, I still don't think they will 'get it'.
But that shouldn't stop us trying.
Who's first?

King Harold - the Patron Saint of Politics?

At least he got the point.

Monday, 22 March 2010

I've just been accused of always wanting the 'last' word


The crude facts of life

How often is the US accused of ‘only being interested in oil’?

Of course they are.

Why else would they concern themselves with Iraq and not Zimbabwe?

But before you join the chorus of disapproval and park your tank (petrol) down that particular one way street, why don’t you #*CK OFF?

We all have cars, fly abroad and centrally heat our homes.

We all buy food and other products that are shipped and flown in from every corner of the globe.

We all live oil-fuelled lives.

Well, most of us do.

So let’s not get hypocritical about it.

Instead, here’s a little analogy.

A hunter sees a big grizzly bear about to maul a poor defenceless man.

The hunter, who is after the bear’s skin, shoots the grizzly dead.

Does it really matter what the hunter’s motives are?

Surely the crucial point is that the man is saved from almost certain death.

Yes, the US is interested in oil.

We all are.

What’s more, we are all prone to making incorrect assumptions.

When I told you above to #*CK OFF, I meant BACK OFF!

What did you think I meant?

Thursday, 18 March 2010

I’ve made a fortune in life

But I’ve also lost two.
Ah well.

Affluence or effluence? You decide.

I’ve often had my suspicions as to why GB (the country, not Gordon Brown) is in such a mess, but now I know.
The truly gifted and talented are either writing newspaper columns or are busy blogging.
In truth, everyone has an opinion.
We all know what needs to be done – where and when and how.
Don’t ask why. Just trust us.
However, it takes untold arrogance to believe that you are the best man for the job.
Insecurity has a much more restraining influence than delusions of competence.
Meet Gordon Brown.
He has screwed things up so badly we are now completely threadbare.
And yet he still believes he is the best man for the job.
I believe that what matters to Brown is brown matter to the rest of us.
That's why I'm voting Green.

Wednesday, 17 March 2010

Our dumdum Prime Minister

Instead of biting the bullet and properly equipping our troops, it seems that Gordon Brown is more intent on providing extra ammunition for the opposition.
Never mind inflation and "in real terms".
In real terms, lives are being lost.

It's a horrible spectre

Having to choose between ghosting Mandy's memoirs or poofreading his manuscript.


BA BA blackleg,
Have you lost your cool?
No Sir, no Sir,
I'm on a work to rule.

Monday, 15 March 2010

Michael Foot. Spinless. Gordon Brown. Spineless.


I learn from today's Times that Alastair Campbell is playing the part of David Cameron as Gordon Brown rehearses for the leadership debates.
AC as understudy to DC should be an easy switch.
We always suspected he was a Tory at heart.

Saturday, 13 March 2010

Should we really give a duck?

There is a small tract of land on the east coast of Scotland just outside Aberdeen that a duck once waddled across.
That land is now sacred.
So when an American billionaire berthed his corporate ‘warship’ alongside this hallowed place of worship, hackles were raised and the locals got agitated.
To achieve this in Aberdeen, it helps if you are either cloven-hoofed or heavy-handed.
In this case, let’s go for the latter.
Donald Trump (no relation to Donald Duck) wants to invest over £1 billion of his own money in creating a world class golf course with accompanying hotel and luxury homes.
So far, so good.
At least, so you would think.
But let’s not forget about the duck.
This duck has a lot of followers and I’m not referring to its cute little ducklings.
I allude to those hobby-less members of society desperately seeking a hobby horse to mount.
Had Donald Trump known all those years ago just how much grief this innocent little duck would bring, I’m sure he would have eaten it there and then, feathers and all.
Instead, he has had to wait until now to get ‘down’ in the mouth.
The rest of the world must think we are quackers.

Friday, 12 March 2010

My entire world has been turned upside down

I think I was a bat in my last life.

Don’t let Alex Salmond off the leash

With Alex Salmond behaving like a pug with an attitude, never has it been more important for dog owners to take out dangerous dogs' insurance.
What has really got him straining at the leash is his desire to be included in the impending leadership debates on television.
Such rabidity would not be particularly nice to watch.
Neither before the watershed nor behind the bike shed.
As Scottish taxpayers, we have duty to pay and a duty to perform.
Does anyone have a scoop-a-poop?

Thursday, 11 March 2010

Vote Conservative. Just because.

It’s becoming more embarrassing by the day - witnessing the Tory press groping for reasons to vote Conservative.
There ain’t any.
The hacks are beginning to take on the guise of pimps trying to procure some business for a couple of old slappers.
The only difference is, at least the slappers have a bit of experience under their belts, if you can forgive me that last metaphor.

Wednesday, 10 March 2010

Taken for a ride

Ballathie House Hotel is always a decent place for lunch and today was no different. More than a few visits back it was very different.
Britain was different.
The banks had just collapsed. No, not the beautiful banks of the River Tay upon which Ballathie sits. Instead, I refer to the financial leviathans that were the pension powerhouses for certain bankers.
I allude to those at the FAG end of society. (Okay, Frederick Anderson Goodwin.)
Such was the concern of our inveterate bankers, circumstances obviously weren’t bad enough for them to cancel their company day at Ballathie hosted by Ferrari and Maserati.
Looking back, I don’t know which was worse – my drooling over the cars, my salivating over lunch or my foaming at the mouth as I witnessed my overdraft heading into ‘overdrive’.
But that’s not my point.
“Have you booked, Sir?”
“Yes, Baruffati.”
The phonetics of Baruffati and Maserati are not too discordant.
For one day at least, I discovered how the other half live. And, believe me, they don’t half live.
I also discovered where our money goes.
If only they had been driving Toyotas.

Tuesday, 9 March 2010

Most extravagant costume. And the winner is.....

Sir Fred Goodwin.
Cost, u, me.

Best make-up. And the winner is.....

Sir Fred Goodwin.
Could you make up a better story?

If there's one thing worse than being told you have OCD...

...then that's believing that you are a dyslexic fish.

"Suicide family did not face deportation"

Three asylum seeking members of a Russian family committed suicide by leaping from the 15th floor balcony of a tower block in Glasgow.
And as if all this wasn't tragic enough, it now transpires that, in more than one sense, they jumped to a conclusion.

Monday, 8 March 2010

Glasgow City Council Leader resigns because of 'a diction' problem

Applicashuns welcome. Call quoting Ref. geezajoab.

Has Fred the Shred been given a new identity?

He may be stinking rich but there has not been a sniff of Sir Fred Goodwin for months.
And yet there's not a plastic surgeon alive who could wipe the smile off his face.
There are, however, one or two RBS customers and shareholders who would like to give it a go.

At long last, David Cameron reveals his spending plans

"I'd like to spend more time with my family."

Saturday, 6 March 2010

Shucks and aah!

Gordon Brown's appearance at the Chilcot Inquiry in which he expressed his heartfelt sympathy for those who lost their lives in Iraq plumbed new depths - or should that be scaled new heights? - in cynicism. And as if to 'shock and awe' us still further, he now has the chutzpah to enunciate that when it came to the post-war planning, he "wasn't able to be more successful on pushing the Americans further on this issue".
Surely that makes him doubly guilty. To be party to prosecuting a war without having made provision for the consequences of your actions is inexcusable, especially when you are fully aware beforehand of the potential aftermath.
The only thing missing from his virtuoso performance was the plaintive sound of a violin playing in the background.
I'm convinced, however, I heard a lyre.

Friday, 5 March 2010

Rug pulled from under Lord Ashcroft's feet

There was no tacks.
(Which was worse, the grammar or the pun?)

Gordon Brown or a front line soldier. Who is the more ill-equipped for his job?

Forget Twitter. Flutter.

Every picture tells a story, so don’t Twitter, Flutter.
Flutter a foto.
Instead of 140 characters, choose just one.
Flutter your eyelashes. Frown. Smile. Scowl. Grimace. Gurn.
You choose.
Choose a clutter-free, flutter-for-free future.
It’s feature-friendly and fun.

Wednesday, 3 March 2010


Fortunately, that feckless fashion of lovey-dovey couples displaying their names at the top of car windscreens has gone by the wayside.
The reason I mention it is that yesterday I was parked facing one such old banger. I refer to the car and not the female at the wheel whom I assumed was called “Sharon”. At least, that's what I read on the label above her frightening fizzog. I’d no idea where “Fred” was. Maybe he had blazed a trail for the car and had already been dumped.
It got me to thinking how appropriate it would be if their names had been “Jill” and “Ted”.
I smiled at the thought.
Sharon smiled back.
I’m not smiling now.

Tuesday, 2 March 2010

Lord Ashcroft. Non-Domocratic.

Local Anaesthetic

I’ve just returned from my daily fix. A three shot latte.
With my caffeine intake, I remain turbocharged all day.....sometimes all night. Although it was a brisk walk back, I never sweat. I merely percolate.
Coffee pours out every pore.
This morning, however, was different.
I had just settled down to my favourite coffee with my favourite paper when my favourite person to avoid walked in.
I know him as the local anaesthetic.
There isn’t enough coffee in Brazil to keep me awake when he gets in full flow.
And when he is in full flow, I also know him as our local authority.
There is scarcely a subject that exists (and I include existentialism) that he can’t teach you a thing or three about.
But as verbose as he is, he has no understanding of body language.
I’ve tried removing subtlety and even introduced subtitles, all to no avail.
In fact, it would not surprise me if he is still talking to the seat that I vacated twenty minutes ago.
To paraphrase Mark Antony: Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your years.

Monday, 1 March 2010

The Disturbing Truth or Disturbing The Truth?

So all records of UFO sightings are to be destroyed.
Either there is a conspiracy going on or, yet again, the Gods are conspiring against me.
I had long pinned my hopes on meeting some alien being.
A lass. No more.
Now I will need to focus my attention on recording another sighting of that other UFO.
Yes, that Useless F#!*&@* Oaf Sir Fred Goodwin.

“I don’t get angry. I’m just very passionate.”

Gordon: “Did the earth move for you Darling?”
Darling: “Move? It was a veritable landslide!”
Gordon: “Oooh! Don’t use that word. You know I lose all self-control.”
Darling: “Landslide! Landslide! Landslide!”
Gordon: “You certainly know which buttons to push Darling. Would you like the Defence job?”
Darling: “What, no more screwing?”
Gordon: “We are talking the ekonomy here, aren’t we….?”
Darling: “It’s the economy, stupid. I think we need another ‘spell’ in office."
Gordon: “You’re right. We need an election. I’ll write to Her Majesty.”
Darling: “Well just be careful how you spell it. But tell me, what do you need to write to Mandy for anyway?”