P&J Column for 17.12.12

All I want for Christmas is cheaper petrol, a Doric dictionary, and a Onesie

This week we’ve asked some of our regular contributors to tell us what they hope Santa might have in his sack.

JONATHAN M LEWIS – local Head-teacher

This Christmas I only want what’s best for the youngsters at Garioch Academy.  When I see their little faces I am filled with hope that all their wishes come true this year.  May they receive all the mobile phones, iPads, and laptops that the young people so desire.  Then, when the kids return for the new term, a concerted campaign of confiscation by my colleagues will ensure a real boost to school resources!

‘CAVA’ KENNY CORDINER – the football pundit who kicks back!

Every Christmas I always wish that I had got the thing what I had wished for last year.  But I never got it last year and I bet I won’t get it this year neither.  Why can’t Santa bring me a drop in fuel duty?  The cost of petrol is astrological.  It is especially steep for someone like me, who lives in a rural location. And I happen to know that every other Jag driver in Inverurie feels the same.  What with the lovely Melody’s weekly colouring at the salon, our messages from Tesco and my high-profile media commitments (just last week I done a 5-a-side at Victoria Park, Buckie), I’m being bleeded dry!  My old Bentley was even less economonical. Imagine how skint I’d be if it hadn’t been round the back of Enforcers Wine Bar when it mysteriously burned down?


Christmas has always been about fairness in the Smythe-Barratt household.  When Emmeline wanted a pony, Fidel got one too. There is one inequity that I’d love to put right this year, though.  Ever since 2002 we’ve been sponsoring a family in the Sudan.  We get regular updates from them – they seem to getting on great guns with our support.  But is it wrong of me to ask why we seem to get nothing in return? Surely they could send us something at Christmas – I mean, given all the goats we’ve paid for, is a spot of gift wrapped Feta really too much to ask?

JOCK ALEXANDER – MTV (Meikle Wartle Television) presenter

Here in Meikle Wartle, we dinna hae ony truck with the hassles and worry of Christmas. Maistly because, as I’ve previously mentioned, we’ve nae got roond tae converting tae Christianity yet. That is nae to say we dinna hae wir ain festive rituals. Instead of a large communal pine tree, drappin needles a’wye, we hae a large communal pile of dung. It sterts oot wee on Dec 1st, but michty by the end of the month, it’s fair piled up. Maist fowk, seeing it for the first time, stop in their tracks. And cowk.

But this year I am joining my fellow villagers in the hope that we’ll get a proper electricity pylon, so we can cease dependence on Tam Reid’s twa charolais’ running aroond in a muckle hamster wheel. It’s a verra ecologically sound system, but faniver the coos stop it blecks oot the village for 8 hour at a time. That does mak it difficult tae watch TV. Or drive. Or wash. Cheerio!

Jimmy Hollywood, Sandilands most eligible bachelor

As you’ll ken, Jimmy is a man-aboot-toon. In my book, that is the only wye tae meet tasty bits of stuff (nae through yer work or joining sports clubs, as some agony aunts wid hiv ye believe. That ideas is mince). As a confirmed bachelor of 42, my hit rate with the ladies is proof that looking smooth and hinging aboot Soul ivery Friday and Saturday night is Route 1 to everlasting happiness.

That said, my Christmas list wid normally look like any other red blooded males – voucher for full body wax at the Marcliffe Spa, highlights at Ishoka, TOWIE box set – but this year, I hiv heard that “Biding in is the new going oot”.  So I’m asking Santa tae get me a “Onesie”. In fact, I’ve asked the big man if he can bring me a set of His & Hers Onesies. ‘Cause I canna think of onything better than cosying up tae Ma Hollywood on the couch of a Sunday night tae watch “Call the Midwife”.

Struan Metcalfe Conservative MSP for Aberdeenshire North-by-North West

What do I want for Christmas? Aside from your vote (Ha ha!), what would be extremely useful would be an aid to comprehending the local dialect. Communication with the electorate is vital to maintaining an understanding of the needs of one’s constituency. So I need a Doric to English dictionary because, quite frankly, most of the time I have not a clue what the great unwashed are saying to me.

Only yesterday, one of the local farmers referred to me kindly as a “flaming gype”, as he tried to extricate his tractor from the ditch he’d run into when I passed in the Landrover Evoque (I can only assume “gype” is a term of endearment for one’s superiors). Later, as I drove down Turriff High Street another red-faced son of the soil shouted what I think was “Aiyah basket! Ye’ve driven ower ma fit, ye great neep”.

So I wished the fellow a Merry Christmas, too.