P&J Column 30.11.17

Everyone tremendously excited about wedding they won’t be invited to

Shelley Shingles, showbiz correspondent and Miss Fetteresso 1983

O. M. Actual. G! Can you believe there’s a ROYAL WEDDING on the horizon?! And it’s a proper one too, not like that damp squib when Charles and Camilla got hitched in 2005 in a registry office and the biggest name on the guest list was Jilly Cooper. Yes, the eligible young ladies of the world weep as Britain’s favourite Ginger (if you don’t count Ron Weasley and Ed Sheeran) is off the market, after popping the question to the lovely Meghan Markies!

It’s a big deal, of course, and it’s just as well we’re not living in a period of extraordinary political, economic and social upheaval, or there might not have been time to devote two thirds of all news coverage to the announcement that 2 people getting married. In fact, I’ve heard the words “mixed-race royal” more than I’ve heard the word “Brexit” this week, which is enough to reform the staunchest republican and as a massive bonus, must be driving Katie Hopkins and Nigel Farrage absolutely mental! I think it’s great that a front-line Royal is in love with a divorced American socialite. It’s a wonder one of them hasn’t tried it before.

They’re going to get married in the Chapel at Windsor, and I have to confess to getting VERY excited when I heard that from my insider source, because he sneezed halfway through and  I thought he’d said ‘Chapel of Garioch’. Already we royal correspondents are asking all the important questions –  “Who will design the dress ?” “What will the bridesmaids bottoms be like? and, most importantly, “Will we all get the day off?”

I don’t know Meghan personally, though I have binge watched all seven seasons of ‘Suits’ since Monday and she seems to be a very good lawyer. Of course, me and Harry go way back. I first met him when I was doing some promotion work for Mackie’s Ice Cream at the Braemar Gathering in 1999. I was just about to nip in to the shoppie for some ciggies (filthy habit, but it kept me thin!) and there’s this freckly 15 year old hanging about outside. “Can I get anything for you?” I asked him, showing him my tray of tubs. “Yes, thanks” he replied. “Could you get me 10 silk cut and a bottle of crème de menthe? Grandmama has locked the drinks cabinet and one is gasping for a libation.”

Wise words from a true gent.


Kevin Cash, moneysaving expert and king of the grips

I may hae a reputation as a caul-hairted mannie, jist cos I eence gave my grunny a packet of tissues for her Christmas (in my defence, it wis actually a very thoughtful gift. She hid the flu and hid spent Christmas Eve sneezing intae her snowball), but I am nae withoot feelings, and that is fit wye I’m feeling gye sorry for Aiberdeen City Cooncil of late, because in their desperate drive tae dae fit I dae – cut doon on unnessecary expenditure – they jist canna get it richt. They’ve even paid financial consultants £17,000 tae advise them how best tae economise. Here’s an idea, next year – dinna. See? I’ve saved ye £17,000 a’ready.

Last wik, the Cooncil got a kicking for stopping funds tae the Youth Festival and ha’eing a raffle tae pey for the Art Gallery revamp. And noo we hiv “UniformGate”, fan their shelling oot £30,000 for 75 new staff uniforms files proposing tae charge us for foodwaste recycling bugs (ye ken, the green slidey eens, fit are apparently made oot o’ a combination o’ clingfilm and middle-class guilt)

£30,000? That’s £400 per unit. For work claes! Really there’s nae need tae ging feel here, ye ken? My mate Mick the Pill kens a quine fa’s snogging a laundry assistant at ARI. He can dae them a job-lot of scrubs for a tenner each. We can dae them ony colour they wint, Jist as long as it’s maistly reed, ‘cos some of that stains is a job tae shift. ‘Corporate branding’ is nae problem either: I’ve made individual wee badges by cutting oot the ACC logo from my last 75 unpaid cooncil tax reminders.
So, I’m awa up Marischal College of noo, tae discuss terms wi’ Barney in a location suitable tae this level of transaction; the top of the Helter Skelter at the Christmas village. If he disnae bite might hand aff, he’ll be roon the twist, and gan doon in mair wyes than one!

See the best of the Flying Pigs live in ‘Now That’s What I Call Methlick!’ At HMT June 2018. Tickets available now. A rare Christmas present for onyb’dy ye like. Or even onyb’dy ye dinna like.