Big fire in the North-East this week. No, not the Broadford Works, Alistair Carmichael’s pants.

PC Bobby Constable, Community Policeman (Retired)

I was shocked to see anither suspicious fire broke oot at the auld Broadford Works, partly because it wiz yet mair evidence o’ the total disrespect fowk hiv for property these days, but mainly because it’s been up in flames that often I didna think there could be onything left to burn. But there wiz, and at its height up to 40 firefighters were there alang wi’ countless police officers. It must have given householders in the area a real fleg, but on the plus side, it will have been a great boost for local bookies and doughnut vendors.

The papers said the blaze wiz the work of “firebugs”. I suppose that is one possibility, but I think it’s much mair likely to have been young loons oot for kicks – or, as we used to cry them fan I wiz on the force, “vratches wi’ matches”.

They were the bane of my life fan I wiz stationed at Kincorth. Barely a week went by wi’oot some wee gowk trying to set fire to the Gramps hill. It aye amazed me how ignorant they wiz aboot the dangers o’ fire, so my top priority wiz edumacation.

Fan I caught a budding arsonist, I wid torch a gorse bush and mak them stand aside it and count as the flames started to tak ahaud. Very few hid the nerve to count beyond 20 afore pleading wi’ me to pit the fire oot. It gied them a fear; it made them think. I hid a lot o’ success wi’ that tactic – right up to the time that I set fire to the bush and only then minded that my fire extinguisher wiz still teem fae my last demonstration. I dread to think fit would’ve happened if my sergeant, “Dunter” Duncan hidna been wi’ me, or if he hidna hid six pints at lunchtime.

Jonathan M Lewis, local headteacher

What a wonderful week it’s been at Garioch Academy! True, my email inbox is replete with parental complaints, but for once they’re not directed at me. The current object of their ire is the Higher Maths paper, which many seem to think was unnecessarily difficult. I said to one tearful pupil ‘come on, it’s not rocket science’ but, as it transpires, some of it was.

This exam expected pupils to think on their feet and apply their skills in unfamiliar contexts to demonstrate a truly deep understanding of their learning. What good is that to anybody? Exams have always been built on the principle that those who learn how to correctly respond to the same bog-standard questions year in, year out will pass with flying colours. This new style of exam sets a dangerous precedent for the future of education. Every single teacher at Garioch Academy got where they are today by passing exams the old fashioned way. Asking them to teach pupils to think out of the box is like asking Bruce Forsyth to break dance. They might be willing, but they’d do a lot of damage in the attempt.

I, for one, support the pupils in their national campaign to have the pass mark for the maths exam lowered, and not just for the boost to Garioch’s results. I am seldom prouder than when our young people display their maturity. And what could be more grown-up than moaning bitterly when something doesn’t go your way?

Ron Cluny, Official Council Spokesman

I see that Sir Malcolm Bruce has leapt to the defence of Alistair Carmichael in the furore over the leaked memo that claimed that Nicola Sturgeon preferred David Cameron as a PM to Ed Miliband. Carmichael initially claimed he knew nothing about it, but has now admitted to having orchestrated the whole thing. Sir Malcolm doesn’t think that this is a resigning issue. This will have been a comfort for Alistair – right up until the time that he realised that Sir Malcolm’s defence was that politicians lie all the time On one level, this is about as surprising as learning that bears have a preference for arboreal ablutions, or that the Pope is not a Rangers fan. But on another, it is truly shocking to hear a politician candidly admit that his entire career has been punctuated by a series of whoppers. I may only be a lowly local authority spin doctor, but that message can’t be the best way to restore public confidence in our tarnished political system. Sir Malcom’s mistake is obvious. Honesty. Clearly, he should have fibbed.

 

See the Flying Pigs live this summer at HMT Aberdeen and the King’s Theatre Edinburgh

Saturday night’s alright for fighting your way out of the AECC car park

Jimmy Hollywood, Sandilands’ most eligible bachelor

The 20th of June 2015 will ging down in the annals of local history as the night Sir Elton John came tae toon. Again. I say ‘toon’, but it disnae have the same ring to say he came to a car-park in the Brig o’ Don.

I hiv been a fan of Elton iver since I got tae third base wi’ Charlene Anderson far Hilton files Northsound’s Dave Agissild played “Rocket Man” in the background. So I wiz well chuffed tae blag a ticket tae see – fae a distance – a tiny, chubby, pop legend jumping up and doon banging his ivories. I got there fan the doors opened at 5 and got ripped intae the bar. By 7 I wiz bleezing, wearing a comedy toupee and specs which flashed fan ye waggled yer ears. Fit a sotter! Fan I bumped intae Suki, the barmaid fae The White Cockade in Torry, she said ‘There’s something about the way you look tonight’ so it is testament tae the power of my chat that it wisna lang afore she asks me “Are you ready for love?” Then she says “Don’t let the sun go down on me, Jimmy. I’m Baltic. Let’s ging back tae yours”. Which we did, beating the traffic. It wis no sacrifice, I opened my window and we heard the hale gig fae the comfort of my flat in Clifton road. As she wis leaving, Suki asked fan we could see each other again. “Sorry love” I replied, “I don’t wanna go on with you like that”. Which wiznae my smartest move. I forgot she is a black belt at karate and she hoofed me in my Reginald Dwights. Oof! It’s true fit they say, Torry seems to have the hardest birds.

Professor Hector Schlenk, Senior Research Fellow at the Bogton Institute for Public Engagement with Science

As a scientist, people are always asking me questions like, “Did the scientists at CERN deliberately name the Large Hadron Collider so as to cause hilarious typographical errors?”, “will squatting in skinny jeans result in circulation problems and nerve damage?” and “does eating two chocolate bars a day really have health benefits?” To which the answers are, “Absolutely”, “possibly” and “yes, insofar as, after a few weeks you won’t be able to get into your skinny jeans.”

This week, people have been asking me what I think about Philae, to which I answer, “it’s my third favourite processed cheese, just behind Dairlylea and Primula.” And then I laugh, uproariously, convulsing as I do so in a manner that occasionally causes an unpleasant clash of heads. But really, it is absolutely marvellous that the Philae lander has reawoken, more than six months after making its crash landing on a comet. Quite apart from anything else, it gives me great hope for the future of Dazza, my most somnolent student. And if it is now able to to drill into the comet’s core, we will be able to learn a great deal more about the chemical composition of this cold, alien ball of gaseous matter. My own theory is that we will find it is made of exactly the same material as George Osborne.

Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit who can’t pronounce ‘KF Shkendija’

When they unveiled their new mascot for next season, Partick Thistle was a bit of a laughing stick! If you haven’t seen him, he’s cried Kingsley and looks like a cross between Lisa Simpson and Hannibal Lecter. My pal Dunter Duncan says to me, he says ‘At least Partick have a chance of winning one trophy this year – The Turner Prize! Put that in your column, Kenny!’ I never had no idea what he was talking about, but I done it anyways. These days, clubs is always trying to gee-up the crowd and create a carnivore atmosphere, but when it comes to gimmicks like mascots, old Kenny is a bit clinical . They never had nothing like that when I played in the top flight, and I’m not sure that a football match is the right place for fun and entertainment.

Although last season is barely finished, my old club the Dons has found out who they face at the start of their Europa League champagne. I’ll be honest with you, I had never heard of KF Shkendija before, so I’ve no idea if they’re a good side, but I do know they’re a cracking score at Scrabble. Apparently they’re from the Former Yugoslavian Republic of Macadamia and last season they finished third. Well, the Dandies finished second so hopefully we’ll come out on top and drive the Macademians nuts!

 

See us live this summer at HMT Aberdeen and the King’s Theatre Edinburgh

‘Deflation’. Sounds exciting, but in fact, it’s a bit of a let-down

Kevin Cash, Money Saving Expert and King of the Grips

Fit a week it’s been for those of us fa like to keep an eye on wir spending. The “One Big Switch” energy bills campaign his certainly got me thinking of switching – switching aff the telly faniver I see Michael Stewart’s crimson fizzog leering oot fae the screen.

Meanwhile, the news that inflation had turned negative for the first time wiz a real boost for consumers. According to the papers, ‘deflation’ means that a basket of goods that wid hiv cost £100 last April noo costs £99.90 (or potentially less, if you buy it fae my pal Mick the Pill, and pey cash. He winna tell the VATman if you dinna, ken fit I’m saying?). I celebrated the good news by blowing my buck-shee 10p on a fifth o’ a can o’ Skol, but the mair prudently-minded might choose to invest theirs. Stick it in an ISA and efter 10 years compound interest at current rates, it wid soar in value to 13p.

The ither story of interest tae value-hunters this wik was the news that First Bus had offered a free travel pass to Decker, the rooster that wiz found waiting by the bus-stop in Drumoak. The company have denied rumours that the bus wiz so late that fan Decker sterted waiting he wiz jist an egg. But news of their generosity got me thinking, and so I clarted myself in wallpaper paste, rolled aboot in some feathers and then pulled a marigold glove over my heid in to approximate a cockscomb. Then I shook my tail-feathers over tae the terminus to get the number 11 into toon. I hiv to report that my attempt to gain free travel did not find favour wi’ the driver. Still, on the plus side, as he clapped the bus doors shut on me, he did at least recognise that I wiz dressed as a cockerel. At least, I think that’s fit he said.

Tanya Soutar, local lifestyle guru

I dinna ken about yous, but I think its a real shame that we’ve seen so much in-fighting and back-biting fae the political parties fit got a hiding in the election. I canna stand tension and hostility in the workplace, cos nae job’s worth yer health, ye ken. Fan things get tetchy in the office it can be difficult, so here’s my guide on foo tae stay classy and rise above it.

First of a’, some disputes tak place afore ye’ve even entered the building. The car park can be a tricky place and some numpties jist hinna got a clue aboot the etiquette. My advice is tae ayewiz park atween the lines and tae tak swift action against onyb’dy that disnae. My preferred form of anonymous complaint is tae scoor abuse on the bonnet of the offending vehicle wi’ a bull-dog clip. Worked a treat wi’ this one quine. Her parking never got ony better, but that didna matter, ’cause her car wis niver oot o’ the garage!

Some fowk leave passive-aggressive notes lying aroond, like “Would people please not use my Billy Elliot mug on my day off?” or “Can people please remove coloured paper from the photocopier when they are done?” These is just an attempt tae lord it ower ab’dy else, so the only wye tae respond is by fighting fire wi’ fire. I tend to leave an equally polite reply, like “I’ll use fitiver mug I like, a’right?” or “Someone’ll need tae remove YOU fae the photocopier if ye dinna shut yer face!” Red ink is a nice touch, or ye could clip letters oot o’ newspaper headlines for that ‘psycho’ effect.

But perhaps the biggest source o’ workplace conflict is the fridge. There’s nithing mair upsetting than discovering that some thieving radge has chored your sandwiches or taen a scoof of your smoothie. It can mak ye a bittie paranoid, suspecting ivry person ye see of snaffling yer pot noodle; and that’s nae wye tae live. Tae get ‘closure’ ye need tae expose the tea-leaf. Fan it was happening at my work I took in a specially prepared lunch. It looked like a boring casserole, but it packed a punch. I’d pit in a hale jar of Naga chillies and twa tablespoons of syrup of figs. Then, eence I’d removed a’ the bog roll fae the lavvies, the trap wiz set. 10 minutes intae the lunchbreak there wiz an affa commotion. It’s safe tae say the culprit made themsel’s kent, fit a state! I wiz creasing masel. Until I minded I wiz the cleaner!

 

Democracy: delivering the government most folk didn’t want since 1707

Struan Metcalfe, Conservative MSP for Aberdeenshire North

Well, put me in a head lock and call me Douglas Alexander, what a result! Super Dave back at Number 10, an overall majority in the house, and Alex Salmond has to spend the next five years at Westminster, he’s going to hate that!

I expected that we’d win more seats than Labour, but not that the Red Menace would suffer a full blown Jockocalypse! The total annihilation of the whinging Lib Phlegms was election cat-nip. But the icing on the cake came when not only Knickerless Clegg, but Red Ed both did the decent thing and committed political Hari Kiri on the same day. In fact, until Farage un-resigned, the Tories were the only party in the country NOT being lead by a girlie. (Yikes!) I think that tells us something very important.

As soon as I saw the exit poll I was straight down to the Turriff Conservative Club (membership is very exclusive) in all my finery; plus-fours, Blue Rosette, Maggie Thatcher Mask. I may have got a little bit carried away with the Krug and jaeger-bombs because we started a drinking game which involved removing an item of clothing whenever anybody won a seat from Labour.

So I do need to apologise unreservedly to Banff & Buchan Constabularly who picked me up on my way home at 6 am, quite tired & emotional. By that point the only thing protecting my dignity was my blue rosette, and I don’t think PCs Kinnear and Mearns appreciated my singing. Perhaps “Blue Moon” wasn’t the best song choice. LOL!

Davinia Smythe-Barratt, Ordinary Mum

What a dreadful week for the Smythe-Barratt household. We had high hopes that the electorate would oust those beastly Tories! But sadly we are condemned to five more years of austerity. That’s a nightmare, as I said to ‘the girls’ at our weekly prosecco ‘n’ spa day.

If Ed Miliband had got in, he would have abolished ‘non-dom’ tax status, and that would have made a massive difference. There’s something truly tragic about an ordinary mum who’s separated from her ordinary husband because he chooses to aggressively avoid paying corporation, income and capital gains tax. I’m beginning to wonder if Milo will ever be able to set foot in the UK again.

But the biggest shadow hanging over us is the in-out EU referendum. In one fell swoop the anti-immigration brigade could isolate the UK from our nearest neighbours and stop the free movement of EU citizens to our shores. That would be awful, we simply could not replace our au pair, Snezanna (she’s Bulgarian, but she’s marvellous). Because if we employ a UK national, we’ll have to pay minimum wage.

Ron Cluny, Official Council Spokesman

Try as we might to put a brave face on it, last week’s result has left we in the Labour movement more bruised than 12 rounds with Mike Tyson. All my jibes about Alex Salmond being a “political heavyweight” have come home to roost, and it would be churlish not to congratulate the SNP on their success. Still, it is disappointing to see that petty political hostilities have resumed so soon after the result, with the SNP wasting no time in suggesting that the policies of Aberdeen’s Labour Council had an influence on our prospective MPs’ political fate. Well, hardly. The swing to the SNP in Aberdeen was in line with that across the rest of the country. It would be pushing it to suggest that Marischal Square caused a haemorrhage of votes in Dunfermline East. I think we should look elsewhere for scaegoats – I mean, explanations. While I – of course – remain full square behind Jim Murphy, I would venture to suggest that selecting a leader who looks like Skeletor and sounds like a talking action-man that needs new batteries might have been counterproductive. But perhaps my view – like the new political map of Scotland – is jaundiced.

Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit for hard working families

I have never been a follower of polytechnics, but I couldn’t help but smile when UKIP refused to accept the resignation of their fingerhead, Nigel Garage. It minded me on a similar moment in my short lived career as a manager. When I was in charge of Forres we had a string of bad results and speculisation about my future was ripe. To spare the board’s brushes I goes to them and offers my resignation. ‘We’re sorry Kenny’ the Chairman says to me, he says, ‘we can’t accept your resignation’. ‘How?’ I asks. ‘Because you’re sacked’ he says.

 

 

                          

You cannae shove your granny aff a bus.  But you can escort a supermodel off a plane.

View from the Midden – rural affairs with Jock Alexander

It’s been an intemperate wik in the village. It’s been fit can only be described as unseasonably het this last three or fower days. Or “summer” as we like the cry it. We dinna usually get fine weather in June. We dinna usually get fine weather at aa. And, michty, we’re hoping the torrential rains return soon, as fit a state ab’dy’s been in. There’s been reports that kiddies hiv been setting fire tae Tam Wilson’s bails.  And, as you can imagine, he’s nae best pleased aboot that.

In fact, there’s been bad behavior aa o’er the place.  You’ll hiv heard aboot yon famous skinnymalink Kate Moss, supermodel and dochter of racing legend Sterling, “kicking aff” during a recent EasyJet flight fae Turkey. Weel, willowy catwalk queen Kate is nae half the quine that is Feel Moira. In fact, Moira is at least fower times the quine that is Kate Moss, possibly even six. But, like Kate, she was also in trouble this past wikend, for her conduct during a journey fae an exotic destination. In Moira’s case the number 380 bus trundling hame fae the Taste o’ Grumpian festival in the seething metropolis of Inverurie. Moira had been exhibiting her famous (some would say notorious) hame-made date loaf. Unique among cakes it is tasty enough to be served as a dessert, yet firm enough tae be stuffed in a sock and used as an offensive weapon. Sadly, she got a wee bittie cerried awa wi’ the free samples on offer at the Brewfest Marquee, alang wi’ Norman Calder’s shortbread fingers and Jean-Christophe Novelli’s seared scallops. So, afore she was halfway hame she wiz fully awa. Kate Moss got intae trouble for getting up tae ging tae the lavvy files the aircraft wis experiencing turbulence. Weel, it wis pretty turbulent on that bus afore Moira needed the lavvy. God only knows fit it would have been like if they’d tried tae stop her!

Professor Hector Schlenk, Senior Research Fellow at the Bogton Institute for Public Engagement with Science

As a scientist, people are always asking me questions such as “Are homeopathic remedies effective?”, “Will we ever have holographic TV?” and “What are you looking at?” to which the answers are, of course, ‘No’, ‘Yes’ and ‘I don’t know, I’m not very good at jigsaw puzzles’. Recently, however, people have been asking me about Mars.  “Well”, I tell them, “I think they’ve been getting smaller, or maybe we’re just getting bigger!” And then we laugh, and fondly remember ‘Spangles’ together.

They’re referring, of course, to NASA’s planned mission to the red planet.  Their preparations are not going terribly smoothly and their bad luck continued when their attempt to safely deploy the Low Density Supersonic Decelerator landing module from 180,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean ended with an enormous splash.  To put those figures into context, imagine Charlie Allan doing a belly flop off the top board at the Uptown Baths.

Luckily, for them and me, I think I may have solved their problem.  My ‘Eureka’ moment occurred in the kitchen yesterday morning when my breakfast had an unexpected interaction with gravity.  The solution struck me as soon as my buttery hit the floor.  If NASA wants to ensure their lander hits the ground the right way up, I suggest they deploy Murphy’s first law of aerodynamics, and smother the bottom of it with jam.

Cava Kenny Cordiner, the sports writer whose hemoglobin is beyond reproach

It’s been another contraverbial week in the world of sport.  A TV documentary has made some damning alligators about some big names in athletics using performance-enhancing drugs.  I is scratching my head with that one, I have to say.  Apart from that one time when I had to be subbed off for Inverurie Locos against Kintore after I got Vicks Vaporub in my eye, I’ve never touched no drugs. But that doesn’t say to mean I don’t know nothing about them. I seen that film ‘Trainspotting’ and the lads in that took heaps of drugs, but it never enhanced their performances one jotter – if anything, they looked like they would of been a liability, sport-wise.

Mind you, I suppose there’s all different kinds of drugs.  They was saying that one of the runners was taking something cried Testarossa.  If it’s anything like the one my old pal Frank McAvennie used to drive, what a speed he must have been going!

One little lady has been grabbing all the headlines. And there’s a royal baby!

Hugh Gravelle-Scrope, Royal Correspondent

And so the country rejoices at the news that the Royal Couple, Catherine and William, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, Earl and Countess of Strathearn, Kate and Wills, have been blessed with a daughter! And I rejoice too, as I will finally get home for a shower and my bed after 3 weeks hanging about outside the hospital. I must say, I was initially most concerned about the lack of public interest in the birth. As we wore past the due date, I was the sole member of the press camped at the gate, and where was the joyful band of underemployed enthusiasts who normally bring such colour to proceedings; hanging about for day after day without sustenance or sanitation in the hope of catching a glimpse of royal car-seat? So I was greatly relieved to learn that her Royal Highness was not, after all, confined at Aboyne Hospital but in St Mary’s, London! I must say, I feel a bit silly now, but I was tootling out past Crathes when the editor called and told me to get to the hospital, so I went to nearest one! He did laugh, when I told him. Or at least I think that’s what the noise was. Here’s hoping he approves my expenses claim. 16 days’ worth of tuck from Strachan’s of Royal Deeside is hard to justify in the circumstances! Still, being in the wrong place didn’t stop me from undertaking a few on-street interviews, or “pop socks” as we journos call them. The first chap I spoke to was very enthusiastic when I asked him how he felt now that we have a new Princess at last. He said it was long overdue, although he personally always preferred the Austin Allegro.

Shelley Shingles, showbiz correspondent and Miss Fetteresso 1983

OMG what a week! Not only has the election provided a celeb fest, but there was the trifling matter of a royal baby! Amazeballs! I’ve never really gotten into politics. I think the biggest problem is the politicians themselves. They’re all totes bland and they’re always droning on about NHS this and Benefits that instead of CSI this and Benefit Street that! Thank goodness some famous folk popped up this week to tell us who to vote for! I’ve decided to vote for Russell Brand. He can reduce my deficit any day! And as for little Princess Charlotte isn’t she just totes adorbs?! And what a nice touch giving her middle names after her late grandma and her great grandma. Kate did very well didn’t she? Not only did she pop a sprog but she managed to leave the hospital the same day looking like a million dollars! I bet you’re thinking what I’m thinking. “How come she looks better after childbirth than I do after putting out my wheelie bin?”. Well, as my Nana used to say of the Queen Mother ‘ I’d look wonderful for my age too, if I’d never washed a dish in my life!”

Doddie Esslemont, Radical Independence Campaigner

I see that the papers have been full of talk about a so-called “violent scuffle” interrupting Jim Murphy’s attempt to address a crowd in Glasgow the other day. At the risk of facing suspension proceedings from my party’s trigger happy disciplinary committee (i.e., me), I would venture to say that as usual, the pro-Union media are making a mountain out of a mole-hill. I’ve seen worse fighting down Union Street on a Friday night. Mind you, now I think about it, I’ve seen worse fighting down Union Street on a Friday night than in Helmand Province. Even so, what is politics coming to when you can’t scream abuse and invective into the face of an opponent? I made this point, forcefully, at volume and from a close range, to the Lib Dem canvasser who rang my bell on Tuesday. She said it was the nicest thing that anyone had said to her all day.

Jimmy Hollywood, Sandilands most eligible bachelor

Jimmy has been genuinely conflicted in the run up tae this General Election. I wiz swaying towards the SNP, partly because I am in favour o’ anti-austerity measures, partly because I want tae stick it tae the Westminster elite, but maistly because Jim Murphy sometimes maks up words that sound a bittie funny. But I’ve just heard that Sturgeon wifie saying that her top priority is to stop the Torry Party. Weel, she’s lost my vote. Some o’ the best parties I’ve iver been tae wis in Torry.