P&J Column for 19.2.15

Triumph for women – from Universal Suffrage to pink mini-buses in only 87 years

Struan Metcalfe MSP – an apology. To women everywhere.

Now look here. I am a humungous fan of women. Always have been, always will be. From little old Mumsy Metcalfe, to Matron Fullthrottle at Gordounstoun, to Emily, the saucy minx I currently employ as a ‘researcher’, I love them all. Even my wife. But in this day and age, it seems like one can’t say anything at all about these lovely creatures without being accused of being ‘sexist’. What rot.

It won’t surprise you to learn that I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with the Politically Correct brigade in my time. In particular, I have had a fair bit of bothersome feedback for my recent Tweet about Harriet Harman’s bright pink battle bus. The Shadow leader of the House is trying to engage the female electorate by driving around the UK in what looks like Hen-night transportation emblazoned with the motto “Woman to Woman”. Now I may not qualify for a ‘This is what a feminist looks like’ T-shirt (and let’s be honest, most of them don’t look as handsome as me!) but at least I’ve never suggested that women can only relate to things that are pink, like flowers and cardigans and, er mini-buses. So the outcry following my tweet on Labour’s latest General Election gimmick seems a tad shrill:

“Harriet H says her Pink Bus shows politics isn’t ‘men only’. Not ‘Men Only’? She hasn’t seen the reading material in the Commons’ Gents!”

I’m sorry to report that in response to that, a number of my female constituents have written to the party chairman complaining that I demonstrate a ‘casual, deep seated, juvenile misogyny’ which they find offensive. Stuff and nonsense, of course, but the fairer sex do sometimes get the funniest ideas into their silly little heads, don’t they?


Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit who goes in studs up

In my long and eventual career in football, I have seen my share fair of refereeing howlers, but I think I can say without fear of contraception that I have never not seen no mistakes like I seen on Sunday at New Douglas Park. My old club, the Dons, was down sticking Hamilton Accies and they won 3-0. Although Aberdeen was on fire and the final result was never not in doubt, the ref and his linesman disallowed two perfectly good goals and turned down a dry stone dyke penalty. They had an absolute shocker, and they must have watched that replays with their hands in their heads, thanking their lucky charms that their blunders never proved cruciate to the outcome.

Of course, old Kenny has been on the wrong end of some diabetic refereeing decisions too. I remember one time, when Longside was taking on Newmachar in an end of season 9-pointer, I was the victim of a mascara of justice. They had this long-haired poser playing at number 10 who was running the show and running me ragged. After 20 minutes I was breathing out my backside so I decided enough was enough and I went in hard on him, just to let him know I was there. He was rolling about like nobody’s business and the whistler gave me a straight red. I was flabbyghasted. I says to the ref, I says “What’s that for?” And he says to me, he says “Come on Kenny. You know what happens when you throw a punch!” Well, on this occasion, I was not guilty as charged, but my protestations of incense falled on deaf eyes. I never laid a hand on the wee naff, all I done was stick the heid on him. Criminal.

I got all excited earlier this week when I seen that Scotland was up against New Zealand in the World Cup. I still remember when we stuffed them 5-2 in Malaga in 1982. Me and Melody was on our honeymoon in Torremolinos and I managed to swing a pair of tickets off my old pal Steve Archibald. You can imagine how Kenny feeled when he found out that this week’s fixture was in the cricket world cup. I can’t say I’m the biggest fan of the sound of leather on pillow but I thought I’d watch it anyway. Sadly, Scotland lost to what must have been an amazing comeback from the New Zealand lads. When I switched off the box to go to my bed the scoreboard says Scotland was sitting at 25-4. I says to myself, I says “There’s no way the Wikis is coming back from that!”