P&J Column 3.8.17
Welcome to Meikle Wartle, the Las Vegas of West Garioch
View From The Midden – Rural affairs with Jock Alexander
It’s been an illuminating wik in the village. Wi’ summer here at last, oor community elders hiv been pitting their heids thegither tae come up wi’ wyes of increasing the tourist footfall. Maistly this has involved altering the roadsigns on the A93 so that onyb’dy heading for Braemar finds themselves making an unavoidable detour through the village. As they invariably run oot of petrol on arrival, we are on hand tae sell them oor ain special crude oil. And it disnae come cruder than Skittery Willie’s sharn-based alternative fuel. ‘Broon diesel’ he cries it. Fit wi’ petrol being phased oot by 2040, we will be ideally placed tae cash-in, by exporting sharn-power aroon the world, but until that happy day, we in the village hiv tae mak money in the short term, and Feel Moira seen jist the thing this wik on her twitface social media doofer.
An enterprising Aiberdeen Kebab Hoose his installed a great muckle animated LED sign. Noo I’ve niver staggered doon Aiberdeen’s fashionable Chapel Street efter a nicht oot masel, so I hinna ken fit gings in a kebab, but fitiver it is, the animated sign informs ab’dy that it’s AUTHENTIC in big fiery letters, guaranteed to catch the eye files yer driving past, and then presumably intae the back of the car in front.
The spoilsports in the city council hiv ordered the sign tae be taen doon, but luckily their jurisdiction disnae extend oot here. Such a thing is just fit we need tae get the tourists in, and Feel Moira has fashioned her own version of a great muckle LED sign, atop the village hall, proclaiming in huge glowing letters WELCOME TAE MEIKLE WARTLE – THE LAS VEGAS OF WEST GARIOCH.
Fan she switched it, fit a sicht! It could be seen for miles, thanks to the absence of light pollution fan ab’dy else’s electricity cut oot for siven mile roon. Sadly, efter shining brightly for twa glorious minties, it exploded. But Moira has already made plans for Mark 2. This time, files we attempt tae get the power back on, she’s building it oot of timmer and then ensuring we get the maximum fiery glow effect by dousing the hale thing in broon diesel. We are confident this will result in plenty folk rushing tae the village fae miles aroon, if only in fire engines. Cheerio!
Cava Kenny Cordiner – the football pundit who’s still in Europe
Arriva-dutchie! Sorry for going a bit multi-pringle there, but old Kenny has became a bit of a set-jetter lately, with all these glamorous trips to see the Dons in Europe. It’s Cyprus this week to watch the Dandies stuff Apollo Plimsole. They done the business last time and I’m confident that tonight they can rise to the occlusion.
When they done the draw and we got a team from Cyprus, I got straight in touch with my old mucker “general” Geoff Greavey, who germinated there when he retired. Geoff was the veterinary midfield enforcer at Culter when I first signed up, and it’s fair to say he taught me everything I know that I never knowed already in the first place. We started 60 matches together in the heart of that midfield, but the refereeing viennetta against us meant we only finished 6 of them with us both still on the park.
Anyway, I got in touch with Geoff to see if he had a spare bed for old Kenny for the match. He says to me, he says “yes”. So I’ve been here since Monday, sitting by the pool, soaking up the sun,and looking out on his 3 acre vineyard. It is unbelievable here. You can’t get hold of Aitken’s rolls for love nor money. Tragic
Ron Cluny – official council spokesman.
As spin-doctor for Aberdeen City Council, I could only watch in professional awe as self proclaimed ‘front-stabber’ Antony Scaramucci got the dunt from his job as White House Communications Officer almost before he got his coat off. The President declared the day of Scaramucci’s departure after little more than a week of chaos “another great day in the White House”, which leaves one wondering what a bad one would look like. The Mooch’s principle skill; the expletive-filled tirade evoking obscene and physiologically unlikely images of senior colleagues, was not taught on the Scotvec in Communications that I took at Aberdeen College. But there are some days I look around Marischal College and think it might have been quite useful.