Houston, we have a problem.

Struan Metcalfe,  MSP for Aberdeenshire North and Surrounding Nether Regions

An Apology – from Houston!

Never let it be said that Struan Metcalfe isn’t prepared to go the extra mile for his constituents. An extra 4,629 miles as it happens. Super Dave asked me to come across here to Houston for the OTC oil & gas conference to represent the Scottish political elite and to let it be known that Aberdeen is still open for business! And to enjoy a couple of days hunting at the ranch of my old chum from Gordonstoun, Chip McGingrich, just outside Galveston. It does mean that, most regrettably, I’ve been unavailable for the last push in the really tremendously exciting Scottish Election campaigning. How I have missed knocking on the doors of the great unwashed, thanking them for their continued support and smiling and nodding while they chunter on in their unintelligible doggerel. I hope my constituents have been inspired by my election leaflet; 16 pictures of me in plus-fours and the slogan ‘Standing Up For You’. Which is true, provided you are a pregnant lady on public transport, or the Queen.

But ‘what is OTC?’ I hear you ask. It’s jolly hard work, that’s what it is. And despite rumors to the contrary, that is the only sense in which it could be described as ‘a jolly’. One’s diary is absolutely packed; with important meetings on the golf course, attending key cocktail parties, and far-reaching networking events at exotic nightclubs. And I am never off duty! Last night I met Tiffany, a charming young lady Tiffany who used to work in the oil industry but has recently been made redundant. She now works in the entertainment industry and, after what seemed like about 8 rounds of Old Fashioneds, we discussed rudimentary engineering and then had a rather heated debate about flanges. I may have hired her as a researcher. That has literally just come back to me.

Later, after posting a selfie with Tiffany on Twitter I wrote this:

‘Another long and tiring day of public service. I’ve just been getting sozzled with UK Energy Minister Amber Rudd”.

Yes, I am truly sorry. Of course I wasn’t getting sozzled with Amber! She is back in Blighty (though it says something about the political profile of her role that so many people thought the delightful Tiffany was she, LOL!) Of course, she wasn’t amused (is she ever?). Anyhoo I am now required to sincerely apologies to her, to Super Dave, to my constituents and most importantly to the long suffering Mrs Metcalfe. And I promise all of the above that when re-elected this week I will work harder than ever to stay off Twitter when I’m absolutely trousered. Toodle pip!

Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit who doesn’t dribble.

They done it! After all the weeks of precipitation, Leicester finally won the Premiership. They could have won it on Sunday against Man United at Old Trafford, but when they only got a draw we was all kept in suspenders. Then, when Spurs only got a draw against Chelsea on Monday, the fat lady was singing the writing on the wall and the Foxes was cried ‘sham peonies’.

Speaking of Chelsea and Spurs, that was a cracker of a match. When I seen the highlights, it got me thinking about my career. I did enjoy the slick passing, lightning running and clinical finishing what the TV punnets was banging on about, but it was the eye gouging, hand stamping and boys getting halfed what got me feeling all neuralgic.

I had to watch the highlights on Monday because I was at the AECC to watch The Harlem Globetrotters. Basketball is like football but with less players, bigger balls and a tiny wee goal up a stick. I tell you what, if you think the football refs are clueless you should have seen the ref in this one! There was cheating going on right, left and right and he never done nothing about it. I enjoyed the match though and I was so lucky to have been there on the night when the Globetrotters scored a basket in the last second to win.

When I was leaving I seen a wee boy bouncing his newly bought basketball. He was telling his Da that he was sad the game was over. Being the kind-hearted soul that I am, I thought I’d recreate that Globetrotter magic for him one last time. So I shouted “Cordiner with the steal”, and nicked his ball.

See us live in ‘Dreich Encounter’. June 2nd-11th 2016 at HMT Aberdeen

At this rate, there’ll be no celebrities left for Ant and Dec to send to the jungle.

Entertainment news with showbiz insider SHELLEY SHINGLES (Miss Fetteresso, 1993)

2016 continues and the celebrity death-count just gets higher and higher. It’s enough to make you think that the Grim Reaper has traded in his scythe for a combine harvester.

When I heard the news about Prince I thought, “what a shame, that’s bound to cast a shadow over the Queen’s 90th birthday celebrations.” But then I found out that it wasn’t Prince Philip at all, but Prince Prince, of Purple Rain fame. At current rates there’ll be nobody famous left in the world by Spring 2019. I just hope that Bruce Forsyth’s eating his five a day and that David Attenborough is taking the right amount of gentle exercise.

But the saddest loss this week was the fantastic Victoria Wood. I bumped into her once, down in Lancashire on a promotional tour for Spink’s of Arbroath, bringing some much-needed glamour to the smoked fish industry. I was dressed as a sexy smokie (stockings, suspenders, foam-rubber haddock’s head) and wanted something to read in back of the bus on the way back up the road. I got the driver to stop at a corner shop in Bury, and Victoria and I met when we both reached for the last copy of the Woman’s Weekly. Victoria took me from head to toe and said “I’ll leave that for you, love. I’m guessing your need is greater is mine.”

Wise words, from a lovely lady.

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

As a scientist, people are forever asking me questions, such as “Will increasing global temperatures really raise the sea level?”, “Can computer algorithms find me my perfect partner?” and “What was the name of Oasis’s debut album?” To which I answer “Yes, no and definitely maybe”.

But this week they’ve mostly been asking me about UK astronaut Tim Peake running the London Marathon on the International Space Station, and the challenges presented by sport in space.

Running in near weightlessness presents problems, as every time Tim bounded on the treadmill his body began to float around the space station as if he were doing the moonwalk (that’s the Neil Armstrong kind, not the Michael Jackson kind). To combat this he was strapped into a harness that kept him “grounded” and completed the marathon in a little over 3 and a half hours at an altitude of 200km. Now I concede that this is quite impressive, but not as impressive as the bloke I saw who ran it on the ground with a fridge strapped to his back! Beat that, NASA!

Peake’s efforts got me thinking about how we could adapt other sports for extra terrestrial competition. Darts would work quite well, until one of the astro-arrows pierced someone’s spacesuit. whilst weightlifting would have to become weightless weightlifting, which is just lifting if you think about it.

One of my favourite sports is snooker, and the absence of gravity would indeed be a challenge for a game that requires balls to rest on a table. This could be combated by spinning the snooker table around an axis at a rate of 2500rpm, which would create the requisite centripetal force to keep the balls on the baize. However, the players would be subjected to G-force that would make them feel dizzy, be violently sick and then drift into unconsciousness, which would both challenge the loyalty of even the most die-hard snooker fans, and nostalgically recall the exploits of Alex ‘Hurricane’ Higgins.

Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football columnist with a tricky run-in

So it looks like Leicester City is going to hang on by the teeth of their fingernails and win the Premiership. A lot of folk has said they is an unfashionable team, but I think their strip is smart enough. Their manager, Claudio Winkleman, is a changed man from when he used to manage Chelsea, and also looks very different without the heavy eye make-up and fringe. He seems to be a really nice cheery guy, kind of like your grand-dad, if your grand-dad came from Italy and spent a lot of time out in the sun without a hat on. “Dilly ding dilly dong!” was his latest quotable quote in the press conference.

The lessons for Aberdeen from Leicester is clear. Buy a pair of absolute beasts for centre halfs and get a great ball-playing wide-man and a striker that can run like a whippet. And get an ice-cream van to do the half-time team-talks.

 

See us live in ‘Dreich Encounter’ at HMT Aberdeen, June 2-11 

Let’s just be grateful it wasn’t Forres & Buckie

Struan Metcalfe, MSP for Aberdeenshire North and Surrounding Nether Regions

Now look here, the job of a politician is not an easy one. Every day we are thrown an absolute barrage of facts, figures, dossiers and briefings. It’s not easy staying on top of all that complicated info, especially when one also has to wine and dine Party donors and get sozzled on golf days at Trump on the Tax-payer’s coin!

On top of all that, how on earth can we be expected to get the names of places right, whether they be in our constituency or from the areas we grew up.

So, give Gove a break!  So what if he got Peterhead and Fraserburgh muddled up and called them Peterburgh and Fraserhead? The man has a lot to think about, not least getting our backsides out of Brussels.

I’ll be honest; I’ve done it myself. Well, these no-mark back-of-beyond places are all the same anyway, aren’t they? I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been heckled by some oik farmer for mixing up my Stoneruries and Banfuff’s. I tell you, it’s a proverbial potato-field!

Shelley Shingles, Showbiz correspondent and Miss Fetteresso 1983

O.M. Actual G!  It’s been a sensational week here on planet showbiz, with one of my absolute fave heartthrobs getting a grilling in the papers.

Jonny Depp has been one of Hollywood’s hottest hunks for years, but right now he is most definitely NOT big Down Under! Him and his wife, Amber Heard, got their knuckles wrapped for smuggling their dogs (the totes adorbs Pistol and Boo) into Australia last year. In fact, they had to film themselves apologizing in order to get off with it.  IMHO Jonny’s performance wasn’t the most convincing bit of acting he’s ever done, but I still enjoyed it more than ‘Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides’.

For a lot of us, this story was a real shocker. Jonny Depp is married? How did I miss that? I thought he was still not-making-and-honest-Mademoiselle of French pop starlet Vanessa Paradis.

I’ve never met Jonny, (or he would have been mine. Mine, I tell you!) But of course, Vanessa and me go way back.  I first met her when she was promoting her single ‘Joe Le Taxi’ on This Morning with Richard and Judy in 1988.  I was doing some modeling work for a fashion piece on faux leather handbags.  We were hanging about the free buffet in the green room during the show, and I’ll never forget what she said to me:

“Si j’étais toi ma chère, je mangerais pas ça. Ca m’a l’air bien suspect!”.

Wise words from a great lady.

Cava Kenny Cordiner, the sports writer who’s not retiring.

I don’t understand modren sportsmen.  It seems that hardly not one of them actually enjoys the sports that they is paid good money to play, despite the fact they is paid good money to play it.  If it’s not Ronny O’Sullivan throwing a cobbler and missing his press conference, it’s Tyson Fury or Connor McGregor saying they is going to retire, despite being at the peak of their powders.  When I heard that, I turned around to the lovely Melody and I says, “What’s that about?  If I’d had the choice, I wouldn’t have retired until my legs was hanging off!”  Melody turned around and says to me she says “Well, after playing against you, a lot of people had to, because they was!”

Of course, in the end, retirement comes to us all.  I knew myself when my time had come.  Partly because I’d lost a yard of pace; partly because I didn’t not have the same touch on the ball; but mainly because I got banned for life by the SFA for putting the heid on Banks o’ Dee’s goalie.

Charles Farquhar McCain, Editor-Proprietor, The Foggieloan Times – All the news you need, every single second Tuesday

There has been much hilarity this week about The West Highland Free Press’s decision to downplay Kanye West’s visit to Skye by relegating it to page 16, alongside news of a kayaker rescuing some sheep.  Media types have congratulated those involved for not playing the fame game and declining to burnish West’s gargantuan ego.

Well, they will receive no such praise from me.  This is the oldest trick in the book.  It is a cheap ploy that has garnered the editor of that newspaper a vast amount of undeserved attention.  It brings the industry into disrepute.  And I wish I’d thought of it first.

See us live in ‘Dreich Encounter’ HMT Aberdeen June 2nd-11th

“Ask not what Meikle Wartle can do for you, ask what you can do for Meikle Wartle”

 View from the Midden – Rural affairs with Jock Alexander.

It has been a gubernatorial wik in the village. The parish Cooncil elections are looming, and files I hiv previously shied awa fae the glare o’ the political spotlight on accoont o’ my complex personal finances (10% aff for cashers, homers a speciality) it turns oot that disnae matter ony mair. In fact, according tae Weelum Hague, it’s important for oor democracy that a good number of oor elected officials are rogues, swicks and chuncers. Hence my decision tae stand as Chairman. This decision has taken bravery, tenacity, and aboot 12 pints, efter which it seemed an affa good idea. It is time noo tae make my policies clear. As apparently I wisnae makin o’er muckle sense last nicht fan I clambered onto that table in the pub and sterted shoutin’. Luckily, Feel Moira took some notes on the back o’ a beer mat and I can just aboot mak oot the text of my election address.

“Naen o’ the ither mannies standin’ for Chairman are ony use. They’re terrible. Especially wheezy Jim Middleton, ’cause he’s low-energy. On account o’ his emphysema.”

“I’m going to mak Meiklewartle great again, like it wiz in the good aul days. Before electricity, and the smallpox vaccine.”

“Inabootcomers tae the village are terrible. I’m gaan tae ban them a’, and I will build a great dry steen dyke to keep them oot. And mak Rothienorman pay for it!”

“In conclusion, if you dinna agree with me, you are a gype. I’m ready for the challenge. I’m probably the readiest oot o’ ab’dy tae be the Chairman ‘cause, you ken, I’m real swak. “

Nae exactly the Gettysburg Address, I’ll admit.

Ach weel, I suppose ‘at’s jist the sort o’ political platform you wid expect fae a drunk mannie fa’s jist shouting oot the first thing that comes intae his heid!

Cheerio!

Kevin Cash, Money Saving Expert and King of the Grips

Aiberdeen Airport his increased their drop-off charge fae £1 tae £2. Normally I wid be up in arms aboot a cynical rip-aff move lik ‘at; but, they hiv also extended the time tae 15 minutes, which gies ye an opportunity tae extract a bit o’ value oot o that extra quid.

First, get yersel a buckshee chauffeur’s uniform. I found my aul school blazer and a peaked hat fae the bairn’s dressing–up box did the trick. Then, fan ye get intae the terminal, pull oot your little wee board wi’ someb’dy’s name written on it. I ging fer “Smith” for a London flight or “Johansen” for the Stavanger een. Sooner or later, some oil executive’ll rock up, chuffed that he’s getting a limo.

Oot tae the car, drap him off at the Marcliffe, hud oot yer haun fer a tip, and bob’s yer mither’s brither. I wis £80 up this wik! Until this morning, fan I picked up that chuncer fa’s hotel wis in Inverness!

Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit whose wife had a fiver on ‘Rule The World’ at 33-1 because she loves Take That and wont let him hear the end of it.

Football is, of course, a funny old game, Saint. But there was some extremely conical going ons at Dundee United this week. Their player Gavin Gunning took the huff on Saturday against Inverness, grabbed the ball and sat down on the pitch until he got subbed. Then he marched off into the dressing rooms giving the fans some onion bahji on the way. Talk about spitting your toys out of your pram. He got sacked on Monday, and I reckon he should try and sign for Falkirk. Since their nickname is ‘The Bairns’, he’d fit right in.

I felt sorrow for Amercian golfer Jordan Speith on Sunday night. He looked like he was home and dry at the Masters before he hit the ball in the water. To make matters worse, he hut it in the water again and ended up getting a 7 on a par 3. With that one disastrous hole he managed to snatch his feet from the jowls of victory. Melody was watching with me and I says to her, I says “I’m glad I never choked when I was playing”. Melody splootered her cup of tea and says to me, she says “Don’t you remember that time with the young lad that played up front for Formartine?” And I have to say, she wasn’t not wrong. I did choke that one lad.

See The Flying Pigs Live in ‘Dreich Encounter’ at HMT Aberdeen from June 2^nd to 11th

Our new 2016 stage show premieres at an oot ‘o toon preview on Sunday the 15th of May at the Townhall, Inverurie.

We’ll perform ‘Dreich Encounter’ for the first time, three weeks before the start of our two week run at HMT, Aberdeen, with all profits from the performance going to the Friends of Insch Hospital & Community.

The Friends were established in 1989 to promote, provide or assist by voluntary and financial means anything which improves the standard and quality of care or environment of patients of Insch Hospital, Community and Health Centre; supplementing the service provided by Grampian NHS Trust.

It’s a great local cause, and the Friends are an extremely able and dedicated group. We’re very pleased to be able to assist.

So come and catch the show before onybody else; tickets are available now from Mitchell’s Inverurie and Stephens DIY in Insch.

Good to see at least one offshore industry is still thriving

Struan Metcalfe, MSP for Aberdeenshire North and surrounding nether regions

Morality, eh? Gosh, it is all very subjective isn’t it? One man’s sensible retirement saving scheme is another’s aggressive and morally repugnant fiscal wheeze. So it is no surprise Super Dave has been caught right like Bambi in the headlights of the tax-haven row this week. #PanamaPapers is trending on Twitter and there’s a lot of really angry people out there. Mostly the super-richwho’ve been rumbled. LOL! Being wealthy nowadays is a dashed tricky business. Being a wealthy politician is a blinkin’ nightmare. Not only do you have to distance yourself from the likes of Bozzo Boris or from ‘totes hilare’ student pranks involving our porcine friends, now you have to answer for daddy’s offshore tax wheezes. Super Dave is even being challenged by The Corbynator to reveal his own tax returns. The impudence! But, come on folks. Why should Our Dear Leader have to be accountable for the actions of a man who has provided him with a lifetime of privilege and entitlement through the chance of his birth? I mean, where’s the fairness in that?

Cosmo Ludovik Fawkes Hunte, 13th Earl of Kinmuck

Is there anything more nauseating than the self-righteous bleating of the lower orders when they think they have managed to draw a bead on their betters? Well, yes; the 11th Earl’s favourite pudding, trifle served in the still-warm innards of a recently shot stag. But the uppity working classes run it a dam’ close second. Corbyn and his mob are in their element just now with all this Panamanian tax avoidance stuff. Funny that the lefties are so against fox hunting, isn’t it, when they so often resemble a baying pack? Well, they can do their worst. I, for one, have nothing to hide. Any more. What bothers me is that those who would tax people like me until the pips squeak care not a jot for the fact that extreme wealth is built up through solid hard work. The third Earl worked damned hard to gain the favour of the King of Spain, become a conquistador, kill all those Aztecs and steal their gold to build up the family fortune. Not that I am at all bitter with the legal firm who inadvertently spilled the beans. In fact, as a gesture of good faith, I have invited Messrs. Mossack and Fonseca to come and join me for a day’s shooting here at the Estate. I’m even offered to pay for their tickets over here. One way, naturally.

P C Bobby Constable, Retired Community Policeman

I saw in the papers the ither day that there’s been an increasing number of criminals takin’ selfies at the scene o the crime and then posting them on social media, claimin’ responsibility for their crimes. I also saw that there’s been a 35% increase in bobbies going off on the sick due to psychological problems. I think the twa things could be related. I mentioned this to my old sergeant, Dunter Duncan, fan we met for a pint. “Fit maks ye say that, Bobby?”, Dunter said, files takin’ aim at double 16, “Do you think the modern police-officer is facing an existential crisis, and is wondering fit their place in the world is if the criminal is going to publically announce his guilt?” “Weel, no”, I replied, “Fit I meant wiz that knocking a confession oot of a criminal wiz a great wye o relievin’ stress efter a hard day’s paperwork.” Policing is nae so easy as it wiz. If a ned’s nae recording himself, he’s recording you on his smart-phone so some smart-alec lawyer can pick over your every move in court and point oot that you’d nae read the accused his rights, or hidna used reasonable force, or ye’d clearly plunted twa grands’ worth o’ drugs on him, or some ither technicality. Changed days from when I wiz first on the beat. We used to tak a chisel oot wi us on the rounds and if there had been a house-breaking, we would plant it on some peer wino. Abody won: the householder wiz pleased somebody’s been caught; the Bailie hid something to dae; and the wino wiz grateful for a few weeks bed and board in the Torry Hilton. It wiz simpler times back then. I wiz going to say “mair innocent”, but that widna be right; cos naebody wiz innocent back in my day.

See us live in ‘Dreich Encounter’ HMT Aberdeen 2-11th June 2016

“Tak me tae Cuba! Or New Pitsligo. Fitever’s nearest.”

View from the Midden – Rural affairs with Jock Alexander

Weel, it’s been a controversial wik in the village! There’s been much fuss o’er a certain ‘best selfie ever’; a photie o’ a jolly North-East mannie wi a big bappit grin on his face posin’ next to a hijacker on a plane. And of course a lot o’ folk hiv been getting real het up aboot it. Partly on the grounds that it’s a trivialisation o’ what was a clearly a very serious and frightening criminal act, but mainly because he cried it a ‘selfie’ fan it wis actually taen by a stewardess.

The ither wik we hid a similar situation in the village, which just gings tae show foo close tae the zeitgeist you can be fan yer 7 miles fae Inverurie. It a’ started fan Feel Moira, suffering the effects o her seventeen lunchtime pints, climbed intae the cab o’ aul Tam Broon’s combine harvester mid-plough, and insisted he tak her tae Cuba. Or New Pitsligo, fitever wiz nearer. Noo there wiz some panic, but the situation was eventually brocht tae a peaceful conclusion fan Tam got his Kodak Instamatic 100 oot and got Moira tae pose for a photie just past Cuminestown . Momentarily blinded by the enormous flash, she fell aff her seat, and Tam wis able tae putter awa tae safety. A lesson there fer ab’dy that the auld technology is the best. Mind you, the combine disna hae GPS, so it did tak him 5 hours tae get hame.   Cheerio!

Struan Metcalfe, MSP for Aberdeenshire North and Surrounding Nether Regions

They say that nothing in this world is certain except Death & taxes. Although these days we can add the pointlessness of the Scottish Greens and the fact that right now, Big Bang Theory is on E4.

Tax has become the hot pomme de terre of this year’s Scottish elections after Nicola Sturgeon ruled out introducing a new top rate because it wouldn’t actually raise any more revenue. According to Wee Nic, anyone faced with the higher rate simply hires an incredibly smart accountant and avoids paying it. Well, that was news to me, and I was obviously appalled. How come I’m still paying full whack?

Quite how one goes about dodging tax, I have no idea; and believe me, I’ve tried. Back in the good old days Hubert Sidebottom, the dull chap from school who became a tax lawyer in the City, creatively accounted away my banking bonus by transferring it into gilts and High Art (not subject to national insurance back then, see?) But no longer. When i got him on the blower he told me the loopholes have long been closed. In fact, Hube’s said the income tax code is now as tight as a hippo’s speedos.

Nicola also suggested that if she introduced a bnew top rate anyone earning over £150k might flee to the South to escape it. Jeepers, we might moan a lot, but does she really believe that the Scottish people are prepared to move to Englandshire to save a few bob? That’s about as likely as any of us watching another Scottish Leaders’ debate!

J Fergus Lamont, Arts correspondent and author of “Nicky Campbell – lust for glory”

Setting out on Saturday evening for a brisk constitutional, I chanced upon a public art installation in the form of a humble sofa in the unassuming environs of our own Duthie Park. This workaday item, so completely out of place in the rain-lashed open air, stood in witty counterpoint to the ‘outdoors within’ of the nearby Winter Gardens. Intrigued, I asked one eager young arts enthusiast whether he thought the piece was more evocative of the work of Anish Kapoor or Anthony Gormley. His response was both cryptic and enlightening: “fit are ye on aboot? I’m ga’n tae be on telly!”

He further revealed that cameras were present recording images for a video installation entitled “Saturday Night Take Away”. You won’t have heard of it, it has received little, if any, publicity, but it’s a searing satire of the disposable emptiness of popular culture by the Newcastle-based artist Anton D’ Eck.

This brave, contemplative and profoundly moving meditation on what we consider to be ‘within’ and ‘without’ then took on yet more complexity as a flashmob of participants descended upon it waving passports and suitcases in a clear representation of our need to escape, whilst simultaneously rooted, inescapably, to a sofa.

Dramatically, the piece concluded with the soul-rending, incomprehensible, cri de coeur; ‘I’ve won a cruise’.

I wept.

See us live this Summer in ‘Dreich Encounter’ 

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right – Stuck in the middle with EU

Struan Metcalfe, Conservative MSP for Aberdeenshire North and surrounding nether regions – An Apology.
Whoops, I did it again! Old Struan has gone off message and Head Office have been on the blower giving me a right good rollicking. Apparently I went out-of-bounds with this little tweet-let:
“Gove, IDS and Boris say ‘Ciao ‘ but Camo, Osborne and May say ‘stay’. I haven’t seen this much division since Primary 7 arithmetic!”
I am truly sorry for making light of the internal ructions tearing apart my beloved Conservative Party. As Super Dave has made tremendously clear, we are all free to make up our own minds about how to vote to stay in Europe. Unless we have aspirations to lead the Tory party into the next General Election, of course!
I have to confess, I’d rather tuned the whole thing out until quite recently, (well, it is a bit…snooztastic, isn’t it?) and when I first heard about ‘Brexit’ I assumed it was a new cereal from Weetabix. That was a tricky convo with Eric Pickles, I can tell you.
But I don’t think it matters which MPs are ‘in’, which MPs are ‘out’ or which MPs are ‘shake it all about’. I heard Chris Grayling announce that he expected the great unwashed will ‘vote with their feet’ on this one. Which is bally odd, isn’t it? Why can’t they use a pencil like the rest of us?
Ron Cluny, official council spokesman
It is not normally the job of a local authority to take an interest in democracy in action in far-flung countries. Indeed, after the great Union Terrace Gardens U-turn, some might opine that we do not take a great deal of interest in democracy here. However, given the special, albeit dysfunctional, relationship between Donald J Trump and Aberdeen City and Shire, we have been keeping a weather eye on how he is getting on in the Republican Primaries. And, as his crushing win in Nevada increases the risk that America will make history again by following Barrack Obama’s Presidency with the election of a crudely-drawn cartoon character, we have commenced planning for the contingency that Trump becomes Leader of the free world.
The major concern is defence. Air cover and ground support will have to be provided to the Aberdeen Bay Renewables Project and the Robert Gordon University; and of course, a round the clock guard will be needed at the Menie estate, lest the president seek to annexe the Greatest Golf Course in the World™ and declare it the 51st state of the union. But overall, the news is positive. In tourism terms, his election would be a boon, with large numbers of Americans expected to come and see the town that hated him before it became fashionable. Moreover, a Trump presidency would be good news for the whisky industry, as it is hard to imagine many Americans getting through it sober.
Professor Hector J Schlenk, Senior Research Fellow at the Bogton Institute for Public Engagement with Science
As a scientist, people are always asking me questions like “Will Virtual Reality headsets replace mobile phones?”, “Will commercial space flights ever catch on” and “Space for milk?” This week, though, I’ve been asked about the dark side of the moon and gorillas. To which I reply “Give me David Gilmour over Damon Albarn any day!” And then we laugh – As soon as I’ve explained about Pink Floyd and the Blur frontman’s most successful side project.
NASA have acted quickly to dismiss any talk of alien involvement in the eerie “space music” that Apollo 10 astronauts heard when they orbited the far side of the moon in 1969, recordings of which surfaced on the web earlier this week. Of course, we scientists know that there couldn’t possibly be music playing in the vacuum of space, as sound waves need some form of medium through which to propagate. Boffins have pointed out that radio interference was the most likely cause of the strident, tuneless wailing. But whatever the cause, scientists are unanimous that the “music” was much better than ‘Love Yourself’ by Justin Bieber.
Back on terra firma, a Bristolian obstetrician successfully performed an emergency caesarean section on a gorilla he at his local zoo. He denied that he’d performed heroics, stating that the anatomy of a gorilla was remarkably similar to that of a human. We are similar in many ways to our mammalian cousins and many behaviours are transferable between species. Which is why I get my hair cut at “Posh Paws” my local canine grooming parlour.

For North-East Scotalnd, it hasn’t been a good spell

Ron Cluny, Official Council Spokesman

The opportunity to serve you. That is all that we, your devoted Local Authority, seek. But just occasionally we might be forgiven for wishing that you would bestow that opportunity upon someone else.

It has been a trying week in the Town House. It started with our antagonists gibbering with joy at the fact that we had spelled “Scotland” incorrectly on our polling cards, and ended up with them gleefully whooping and hollering at the fact that the repairs to the Town House are going to come in over-budget. Well, really. Who would be a public servant? George Osborne was treated with greater deference by IDS – a man who both sounds like a gastro-intestinal complaint, and wears the fixed facial expression of someone who is suffering from one.

Let us deal first with the spelling error. Obviously, it is to be regretted that the regional constituency was mis-spelled “North East Scotalnd”, but to be honest, that was nothing compared to the typos we saw in the various tweets, emails and letters of complaints. Many of the people who contacted us demanding that the polling cards be pulped and re-issued were mischief-makers, while the remainder were wannabe big-shots. Spot the deliberate spelling mistake there.

Turning now to the overspend; nothing seems to energise the public more than the idea that the council has forked out more money than was absolutely necessary. Obviously, an overspend of £2M on works that were originally intended to cost only £1.5M is less than ideal. But it is important to put this in context. These works were long delayed by previous, less far-sighted administrations, meaning that when we bravely pressed on with them, more needed to be done. In executing these works, no corners have been cut; we have used only the highest quality materials, employed only the highest quality of tradesmen, and when deliberating over the plans, our committee members consumed only the highest quality coffee and fine pieces. We have overspent by a mere 230%. The construction of the Scottish Parliament, by contrast, went over budget by 800%! On that basis, it might be said that your ever-thrifty local Council is 570% to the good. you’re welcome.

Jonathan M Lewis, local Headteacher

How I have enjoyed reading about the run-away winner of an online poll to name a new Royal Research Ship. Whilst there is an element of silliness about calling a multi-million pound state-of-the-art research ship “Boaty McBoatface”, I champion the use of the democratic process to find the rightful moniker for the vessel.

I’m sure many parents will recall me taking a similar stance when Garioch Academy was looking to select a new school motto. Many suggested that it was tantamount to negligence to devolve the decision to the pupils, claiming that they would be unable to take the process seriously. ‘At least’ the nay-sayers bleated’ give them a sensible shortlist to choose from’. I, however, was confident that our young people would respond positively to the responsibility entrusted to them and I think we can all agree that there was nothing to gain by stifling their creativity.

My only regret is that the many doubters weren’t able to see for themselves just how wrong they were. Senior pupils formed campaign teams, canvassed the younger pupils and even held a lively ‘hustings’ debate the afternoon before votes were cast. The whole process was carried out impeccably and when the motto was chosen, it provided yet another occasion where I was truly proud to be Head Teacher here at Garioch Academy, where our blazer badges now proudly proclaim “Why learn when you can Google?”

Cava Kenny Cordiner, the sports writer with impeccable feminist credentials.

It’s not normally my cup tea cakes, but I’ve been reading a lot of the tennis headlights this week. There’s been a bit of a hahoo about prize money, with Kojak Choccybics saying he reckons the women should get paid less much money than the men. It’s always a risky business talking about agenda issues in sport, so hopefully old Kenny won’t ruffle any lady’s feather dusters by saying something sexist.

If you is asking me, I think Kojak’s got it all wrong. He says at his press conference, he says “men attract more spectators”. Now, don’t get me wrong, he is a top athlete in the peak of physical condition, but I is not attracted to him. Some of those women players, though, they is absolutely gorgeous!

 

Give your baby the name of a superhero? Be careful, he might be Thorry.

Jonathan M Lewis, local headteacher

There was a time when pupils’ names were simpler. When a teacher could tell a great deal just by glancing at a class list. For example, you knew where you were with a Ryan. If you had a Ryan in your class you knew that he should be right under your nose where you could keep an eye on him. Newcomers to the profession would dismiss this as stereotyping, but give even the most saintly educator 3 months with a Ryan in the back row and they were converted.

However, each year at Garioch, our S1 intake features fewer and fewer names that we know, with an ever-increasing supply of unknown quantities like Arizona, D’Island or Thor.

That’s what our most recent staff development session focused on. Poring over the National Records of Scotland’s list of baby names was not, as has been suggested, “a childish exercise in time-wasting”. Analyzing the names of our future pupils will ensure that we know what to expect from the likes of Khaleesi, December-Lee and Axl when they arrive here at Garioch.

Staff development sessions are a vibrant and dynamic environment, where staff come together to engage in a range of activities, share their expertise as we prepare for the uncertain but exciting future of education. The tiresome accusation that all we successfully develop at these sessions are bigger waistlines from gorging on cakes could not be further from the truth. We very rarely get cakes, particularly last week, when a mix up in the Senior Management Team saw the staff trying to get through the session with only a somewhat bashed packet of Garibaldis.

Jimmy Hollywood, Sandilands Most Eligible Bachelor

Jimmy, although a child o’ the seventies, is still in prime physical condition, even noo he’s in his early 30s. But employers is gettin’ increasingly interested in their staff’s physical health and I wiz aghast to hear o’ a mate – aye a mate ye understand, nae Jimmy himself – fa hid tae ging through a horrific medical examination as part o’ his employment contract tae mak sure he wiznae (a) dying (b) likely tae die soon and (c) a fat pleiter fa drinks too much and thinks a personal trainer is a specially-made jimmie .

So, my mate (fa is definitely nae me) turns up tae his appointment this wik and is measured fae heid tae fit, hiz his blood pressure ta’en (efter a particularly stressful postal round fan he wiz chased by an unusually aggressive Pekinese. Oh, they look funny on Crufts, but it’s nae laughing matter fan they sink their teeth intae yer diadoras) and is then asked tae strip aff, lie doon and hae something called an EPG. Noo – Jimmy’s mate his some experience o’ being asked tae lie on a bed and tak aff his boxers, but nae by a hairy phsyio ca’ed Barry!

Next thing, the boy Barry is attaching electrodes tae hiz nipples, and asking if he checks his chuckies on a regular basis! Weel, contractual obligation or no, he wiz oot o’ that consulting room faster than Matt le Blanc at the Cenotaph.

I da ken if I passed the medical, but there’s definitely nithin’ wrang wi’ my reflexes!

Ron Cluny, Official Council Spokesman

So, the Torcher parade has been cancelled, and once again, the mischief-makers who delight in deriding the local authority are having a field day, accusing us of pig-headed obstinacy. As usual, our critics speak from a position of deep ignorance. When the students sought to change the date of the parade to the 19th of March, we told them that that fell within our winter maintenance schedule and as such we could not make staff available to steward the event. We then made the perfectly reasonable request that the event take place on a date on which virtually no students would have been available to attend. This was a win-win situation – a short, crummy event would have been particularly easy to steward and would have been over in a jiffy, allowing everyone to dump their 2ps into a single bucket before getting home in time to catch the tail end of Ant & Dec’s excellent ‘Saturday Night Take Away’. However, the students were not interested in efficiency, and instead wanted to put some kind of ‘meaningful event’. Ah, the idealism of youth! As they grow up they will learn that when it comes to weighing up the benefits of a unique 126 year old civic tradition and the orderly execution of a pothole-filling programme, there can only be one winner.

 

See us live in ‘Dreich Encounter’. June 2nd-11th 2016 at HMT Aberdeen