I bought some burgers at the Meikle Wartle Country Fayre – and they’re off!

KEVIN CASH, Money Saving Expert and King of the Grips, on the collapse of HMV and OneUp

It’s nae often that I, haggler supreme, man of short airms and long pockets and champion of the customer’s inalienable right to complain, tak the side of big business.  Jist this eence, though, I am hairt sorry for the humble trader and fizzing mad at the consumer.   The unholy alliance of the supermairkets and the “tax efficient” online retailers hiv daen their worst. We’ve a’ready said ‘so long, farewell’ to Bruce Millers, Woolies, and Zavvi (although they kind of deserved it for having the silliest name created since Bob Geldolf split up fae Paula Yates).   Noo it’s ‘auf wiedersehen, adieu and tatties ower the side’ for HMV and OneUp.  So, all because you lazy lot of galumphs couldna be bothered to lift yoursels off your backsides and support local businesses, we end up with another gaping hole in Union Street. Worse still, future generations will niver ken the pleasure of sending their Ma doon toon at Christmas to ask the plooky loon ahin the counter far she can find “Bleach” by Nirvana. And finally, one burning question: far the hell am I supposed to shoplift my CDs fae noo? Eh? Hang your heid in shame, Aiberdeen.  Hang your heid in shame.

‘CAVA’ KENNY CORDINER, the Football pundit who kicks back!

What a belter of a week for Scottish football. The tartan army have gotten themselves a new suprendo in the titchy wee shape of my old pal Gordon Strachan. When I first arrived at Pittodrie, Gogsy already had gotten his self quite a repetition for being a particle joker. This one time he nearly caught me bonny! He says to me, he says, “Kenny, do you realise that there’s more training after lunch? We’re all still here when you slope off to the bookies! You’d better wisen up or the Gaffer will give you your jotters.” Well, I don’t mind telling youse, I nearly almost fell for it! But ‘Cava’ Kenny didn’t come down the Dee on a bandana boat, and he never got another chance to trick me, seeing as my Pittodrie playing days came to an end very soon afterwards. He was a rare player though, was Strach. He was as fast as Freddie Mercury and had heaps of skill. Ball control is very important in the game, and Gordo’s was amongst the best controlled balls I ever seen. I remember once in training when he had to dribble past me and I had to not let him. Fergie says to me, he says “That’s it Cava, don’t let him turn ye!” Gogs, the wee rascal says, he says “Aye, I seen a barge in the harbour turn quicker than him, gaffer!” So I makes a challenge, and I took the whole lot. “Good thing I can take a joke”, I says to him, as I was helping him up. He missed the rest of that season through injury. I’m sure he’ll do a great job as Scotland boss. And I cant help noticing that after my old pal Alex Mcleish he’s the second ginger ex-Don to sit in the National team hot-tub. They say things come in threes, so I wonder who’ll be next? I’m off to the bookies to stick a tenner on Ilyan Kiriakov.

View From the Midden with Mtv (Meikle Wartle Television) Personality JOCK ALEXANDER

Weel michty, its been a gastronomic wik in the village. Fit a stramash there’s been in the news aboot supermairket burgers contaminated with horsemeat! I think I spik for all right-thinking fowk fan I say: fit a fuss aboot nithing!  As my auld Grunny used tae say, ‘ye’ve tae eat a pick o’ dirt afore ye die!’ and sure enough, she did baith, in that order. Here in the village you’d be fine pleased if your burger had a smattering of the stable yard aboot it. It wid mak a fine change from bits of Jim the butcher’s falsers, efter he sneezed them intae the mincer last month fan he come doon with a bout of the norovirus Unsurprisingly, he disnnae sell a lot of burgers. At the Meikle Wartle Country Fayre; still proudly held ivery second Seterday in January ahind the sewage works (y’ken, the flat bit of grun far nithing grows, and the air has a yellowish tinge?) The food on sale is, proudly and defiantly, Scottish in flavor. And fit a flavor it is! Feel Moira dis the bulk of the catering for the Fayre, and her culinary offerings are famed, though not necessarily for the richt reasons. She taks a ‘Ronseal’ approach to food labeling, fit is fine as lang as ye ken tae expect. The basic rule of thumb is, fit it’s cried is exactly fit ye get. So, for example, her meatballs are at their freshest fan the Vet’s been daeing a gelding. That particular dish is considered a delicacy by fowk fae all aroon the world. We can only assume that neen of them have iver tasted Feel Moira’s version…and lived tae tell the tale. Uniquely, her Cullen Skink contains real Skink, her Clootie Dumplings feature actual cloots, and as you can probably guess, her Scotch Broth is a great favourite.   Mind you, the less said aboot her Crappit Heid the better. Cheerio!