P&J Column 26.1.17
Parliament is Sovereign? We didn’t vote for that! Oh. Hang on…
Cosmo Ludovic Fawkes Hunte, 13th Earl of Kinmuck
So the loathsome swarm that calls itself the Supreme Court has issued its judgment on Brexit, and slice my sprouts and baste me in marmalade if they haven’t gone and said that legislation is required to start the process off. Well, really. What do these so-called Justices, with their fancy robes; academic honours and life-long careers in the law know of the constitution of the land? It is not to be found in their fusty books, but in the hearts and minds of the people. Not all of the people, obviously – that would be ridiculous – but in the hearts of minds of people like me. We have no need of this ‘rule of law’ fol-de-rol. To start the Brexit process, all that should be necessary is for Theresa May to haul on her jodhpurs, ride out on a white charger, sound a hunting horn and release the hounds. That was how my illustrious forebear, the 3rd Earl, administered Kinmuck in the 1600s. He ruled with an iron fist – literally. He had it made by the village smithy and used it to crack uppity peasants over the skull. Ah, the 1600s – a golden age. In those honeyed days, if a man were sufficiently wealthy, he could say whatever he wished – no matter how outlandish – and still be believed by a credulous and compliant system, and moreover he could simply grab a passing wench whenever he pleased! If only there were still somewhere on earth where that were still the case
View from the Midden; rural news with Jock Alexander from MTv (Meiklewartle Television)
It’s been a controversial wik in the village. I spik, of course, of Feel Moira’s elevation to heid of the Meikle Wartle Women’s Institute. Some folk are saying that she’s nae richt for the job. Noo I ken that Moira has mair testosterone nor ony loon in the village, but that’s nae reason tae discriminate. She snatched an unexpected win in the vote fan the incumbent, Esma fae the Post Office, missed the crucial meeting efter falling intae a bear-trap fit hid been mysteriously dug ootside her hoose. Kids!
But it’s nae been a popular appointment. Numbers wiz certainly doon for her inauguration in the village tearoom. We ken this because Auld Jessie fa runs it wis saying tae Haldie Winton in the shoppie that she wis fine pleased that there hidna been mony fowk, efter last year, fan Esma hid very nearly 15 wifies in attendance and her bannocks got trampled. But Moira wiz on the warpath, claiming that reports of a drop in numbers are ‘fake-news’, and that Jessie’s been tampering with her CCTV. Weel, that came as a great shock. Naeb’dy in the village kent Jessie hid CCTv, and we’ve a’ been pinching butteries aff her coonter fan she isnae looking.
Noo, Moira his sterted issuing executive orders tae end co-operation wi’ the W.I.s in Durno, Newseat and Mains of Glack; tae stop all donations tae Oxfam and allowing the construction of a sewage pipe connecting Skittery Willie’s piggery tae the Burn o’ Wartle. At’s fit wye we’ve hid a mass protest at the Burns Supper in the Village hall. Michty, it wiznae pretty. Shouting, recriminations, huggis a’wye. But, as I minded mysel’ fan I wis scraping dried cockaleekie soup aff the wa’s, that’s democracy for ye. Cheerio!
Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit who went for the ball
There’s so much doom and flume around sport these days, so it was great to see Rod Stewart enjoying himself at the Scottish Cup draw on Sunday. Rod fairly looked like he’d been enjoying the Albion Rovers hospitability at half time. He breathed new life into the dreary process of pulling balls out of a bag, and even gave the suit from the SFA a wee tackle from behind. Some folks is saying he was just excited because his beloved Celtic had won, but old Kenny reckons he was sailing!
But Rod’s not the first person with important duties who has had little bit of dust courage. Old Kenny once compared a charity auction at the Marcliffe. I’d never done one before, and I was so nervous I had left my dental plate at home. So I couldn’t not believe my luck when the waiter asked if I wanted a pair of teeth. But he never brought me spare dentures, just a big glass of vodka, which I drunk. Well, I has not never been that good with numbers at the worst of times, so the auction went a bit high-wire! By the end, Willie Miller won an Ishoka voucher, Robbie Shepherd paid 2 grand for a hot-stones massage, and Alex Salmond got a 4-ball at Trump’s.