‘Ooray For ‘Ollywood!

Kevin Cash, money saving expert and king of the grips

My flabber was well and truly gasted the ither day fan me and my mate Mick the Pill were loading up some aul ile drums into the back of my transit in an offshore equipment yard oot in Oldmeldrum. Sitting there amongst a’ the junk wiz a 50 foot high white letter ‘H’. I wis so shocked I clean forgot the address of the steel band we were planning tae flog the ile drums to.

It turns oot it wiz the actual original ‘H’ fae the Hollywood sign fit had been bought by some artist wi’ mair money than sense back in 1978 and and has noo been “recreated fae the original panels”. Just like my transit, though probably a bittie mair likely tae pass an MOT. Onywye, it turns oot that the Hollywood ‘H’ is gan tae be the centrepiece of an exhibition that’s on a world tour for the next five years.

I find that staggering, ken fit I mean? Partly that such an iconic thing is sitting aboot in Oldmeldrum, but maistly that folk’ll pay good money to see it! For five years! A’ across the globe! I had nae idea letters fae signs wiz sic a big draw.

So me and Mick have come up wi a scheme, tae offer local punters the chance to see some iconic signs here in Aiberdeen. We’ve got the sign fae Cape Canaveral, and famous street signs like Elm Street and Abbey Road. “Are these the actual signs, Kev? Or is that one for Cape Canaveral’ nae jist black marker applied tae a sign for ‘Codona’s Carnival’?”, I hear you, and the boy fae Trades Descriptions, ask. But it’s a above board.  Jist like the een in Oldmeldrum, we’ve “recreated” them fae the original letters.  Weel, the same letters. We’ve liberated letters from a variety of roadsigns and shop fronts in Aberdeen. So if you’re passing by and are wondering why your local Tesco is missing a ’T’, it’s because it is noo appearing in  ‘42nd Street’. This scheme is nae without its perils, of course. Mick hid a lot o’ explaining tae dae fan got the bobbies found him unscrewing the ‘C’ and the ’S’ fae ‘Canal Street’.

Cava Kenny Cordiner; the sports writer who’s recently discovered an interest in cricket.

Old Kenny is not normally a fan of sports that don’t involve folks kicking each other, but I was on the knife edge of my seat the other day, watching Scotland stick it to the English at the croquet.  When the final Englishman was sent back to the Pavlova, I shouted so loud that my wife, the lovely Melody, came running through the house wondering what was wrong.

“What a fleg you gave me Kenny”, she sayed.  “I’ve nae heard a noise like that since you had that terrible accident hoovering in the nuddy.”  Apparently the English is number 1 in the world for the old balls and bat game, so using the same logic as we used when we beat the Bald Enemy in 1967, when they was the  World Cup holders, that makes us one number below that – Scotland, the new cricketing nothings!

Speaking of the World Cup, it is nearly upon us.  Sadly, Old Kenny won’t be getting any work as a punnet this year.  I’m still a persona-non-gratin in Russia after I halfed a nippy Siberian winger in a pre-season tour with the Dandies in 1977, causing a ligament injury, a 22-man brawl and a diplomatic incident.  Still, I am looking forward to watching it on the new ultra high definition telly I’ve had installed for the purpose.  Melody is right miffed.  I can’t work out what she thinks is worst – the fact that I’ve spent 2 grand on a telly, or that I had it put into the lounge of the Kintore Arms.

It won’t be the same watching a World Cup without the Scots, the Deutsch and the Italians, but with players of the caliper of Sergio Ramos there, you can still be assured of some top class sneaky hacking – which is what the beautiful game is all about.  I always watch the games with a wee tang of jealousy though, having never got to play at a World Cup myself.  Mind you, having seen the look on Putin’s face, I get the feeling that some of the Russian lads might wish they weren’t playing neither.  I think them boys are probably one bad performance away from joining my pal in Siberia.  Still, at least they won’t be short of salt for their chips! Mental.

Don’t miss the Flying Pigs Live at HMT Aberdeen in ‘Now That’s What I Call Methlick!‘,  a compilation of their best sketches from the last 20 years.  June 26th-30^th 2018. Tickets available now.