Author Archives: Scud

So, that’s that, we’ve qualified and the sons of Bobby Thomson( well, the Great and Great Great Grandsons of oor Grannies Grandfaither( Fuck tryin’ tae remember aw that when ah’m pissed in Dusseldorf) are aw gaun tae Deutschland next year for the Euro’s. It was a bit anti climactic, wi’ Scotland no’ bein’ involved in what turned out tae be oor decider wi’ Norway and Spain. Never before have Scotland qualified for a major tournament wi’ Two matches tae spare( ah think) and those games are a great opporchancity tae play oor best team when the pressure’s off. We’ve had Three doin’s off England, France and Spain, but hey ho, who widny?.- They’ll be the big favourites tae win the thing next year and maybe Belgium, if de Bruuyne is fit. Ah’m hopin’ for a group we might have a chance of qualifyin’ fae- a knockout match or Two wid be Cosmic. We’ve already got the Travel and accommodation sorted oot in Dusseldorf for a week. Ah’d fancied gaun by Train but we’re gettin’ the Ferry tae Amsterdam and the Cancer Bus tae Deutschland which is fine by me. Mind you, these maniacs oot in the Middle East might put a stop tae the planet, never mind the Fitba’ – honestly, what a Fuckin’ nightmare, tied up in a catastrophe and sealed up in a cave- a big smelly Shitey cave. This is where religion started- it might’ve started wi’ big Ug, the Neanderthal, who was revered for killin’ a Sabre Toothed Tiger wi’ a Wooly Mammoth Thigh bone- it might’ve started wi’ wee Lucy’s (the African footprint) Grandfaither who was an Ape when he fell asleep One night and an early Hominid when he woke up in the mornin'( that wid’ve got his mates talkin’)- ah don’t know. Ah do know that the big Three that seem tae affect everybody the world over, Christianityism, Islamism and Richard and Judaism aw started oot that way- and ah’ve got a theory as tae why that came tae be. Imagine the scene over Three Thousand years ago in a desert Oasis- Three men sittin’ under a Date Palm and aw they’ve done aw day is watch Camels go by because there isny much else tae dae. So they aw come up wi’ outlandish nonsense about religions and followers, for a laugh, tae see who could oot pish the other Two- eat Fish on a Friday, wipe yer erse wi’ yer right( or left) hand, cut yer new borns foreskin off, see angels and miracles and ressurections- it’s ripe for a Piss take. Any sane, sober educated person, who devoutly follows a religion gie’s up the right tae say that they’re sane, sober and educated. That’s the scary thing aboot it, the emphasis and the voice and the place it has on the Planet is frightenin’. So, that’s me for the night. Ah got up at Eleven o’clock at night- ah’ve turned night in tae day. Wee Puskas went mad for Cat treats but ah didn’t have any so the wee Cunt ended up attackin’ ma hand. It’s no’ gettin’ milk again if that’s how it behaves. It only got milk because the greedy wee Bastard’s eaten it’s ain weight in Cat treats ooer the last fortnight. Ah Dinny ken how many it should or shouldn’y eat – it does that nuzzly/ heid butt thing that Cats dae when they want somethin’ but it’ll get brain damage if it carries on the way it was carryin’ on earlier. More tomorrow, Middle East permittin’.

So, tonight could be the night when Scotland qualify for a major tournament ( abroad) for the first time this Century – if Spain Dinny lose tae Norway in Oslo. Ah hope tae be in Germany next June( health permittin’) tae cheer Scotland on- big C has already got the accommodation sorted and ah think Four ‘ Sons of Bobby Thomson’ are gaun- at present. Craig P wid make it Five if he can make it. Ah think next June, in Deutschland, will see unprecedented numbers of Scot’s fans – France 98 was the last clan gatherin’ abroad- ah was there and ah still have magical, fond, glowin’ memories of ‘The Jolly Boys’ Outing in Bordeaux- no’ tae be confused wi’ the Jolly Boys’ ‘Outing’ on oor first night in Bordooks.  Davy B had T-shirts made for Hamo and Stevie and I, and they were great.  They had The Jolly Boys’ Outing, France 98, wi’ Bordeaux, Livi, Pumphy and Hawick printed on them, in reference tae Bordeaux ( where we were headed), Livi( where big Stevie, The Bruce) stayed, Pumphy ( where Hamo lived) and Hawick( where ah was at the time). We went oot on the first night wi’ oor Jolly Boys’ Outing T- Shirts along the Rue de Catherine( ah think) on the way tae the Bodegon Bar. It’s a really long Rue( sorry, for showin’ off wi’ the French, there- canny help it) and it was bustlin’ and really busy wi’ revellers and shoppers and people who ah thought were laughin’ at oor T- Shirts. Hamo and Stevie thought ah was bein’ paranoid until we came tae a wee stall wi’ a guy in a pink wig and a dress on( obviously Homosexual, but we liked him)who pointed at oor T-shirts then pointed at himself- Ye’ve never, in the history of takin’ T Shirts off, seen Three T-shirts come off as quick. Luckily it was a warm night. Anyway, Germany next year- if ma visit tae the Haemotologist goes well and ma CT scan result comes back fine ah’m havin’ a go at stoppin’ the Fags and the drink. Ah’ve had so many lucky escapes Healthwise that ah’ve become blase about if- what a fanny. It’s almost Eight years since ma Cancer and Heart attack and ah’ve smoked for the last Seven and a half and fae hardly ever havin’ drink in the hoose tae hardly ever no’ havin’ it in the hoose. Hey-ho. C’mon Spain.

Ah’ve no’ been on the site for a while- mainly because ah’ve been sleepin’ alot. It’s become ma wee comfort zone along wi’ the Bob Hope- stoned when ah’m awake or sleepin’- that’s about it. For the last Three or Four months ah’ve felt like Shite- strugglin’ tae walk more than a few yards withoot stoppin’, sare legs, sare feet, jumpin’ oot ma skin every time ah get a chest or arm pain- it’s nae life and ah’d be better off deid. Ah joke wi’ the Doctors, sayin’ that if ah was a Dug ah’d be put doon oot of kindness. Ah’ve tae go intae St Jocks for a CT scan next month ( chest, stomach and pelvis) and ah’ve got a feelin’ that ma next hospital visit or stay will be ma last. Ah hate ma immobillity – a prisoner in ma ain hoose – it’s a pisser. Be

There’s nothin’ quite like bein’ a Scotland fan. Ah listened tae Eighty Seven minutes of abject misery and was then treated tae Two minutes of unexpected joy that ah didny see comin’. Ah promised Doctor Johnstone that ah’d stop smokin’ if Scotland won and ah’m buyin’ a vape and eating hash cakes fae the morn. Ah was walkin’ aboot wi’ a big smile on ma face for aboot Twenty minutes after the game and ah replayed the mad Two minutes of goals a few times. At the moment Scotland are one mountain ridge and Ten more minutes fae Switzerland tae put it intae Great Escape terms- ah hope that oor engine, unlike Henley and Colin the forgers in the film, doesn’t fail. Tae this day, after over Fifty years of watchin’ that film, the moment the engine fails is a ‘Bastard’ moment- up there wi’ Paul Gascoigne’s goal against us at Wembley( C–t). So, that’s the plan- Healthy for Hamburg, or wherever in Deutschland next June. Ah’ve been worried aboot ma health for a few weeks- ma “If that isny Cancer ah’ll be awfy surprised” cough has been a constant companion for weeks and walkin’ even short distances has been a Cunt. Still, weather like the kind we’ve been havin’ lately is wonderful medicine. The smells and colours of summer are a heady mix that ah love and appreciate more the aulder ah get. Ah remember the day after ah was told that ah had Cancer and a Fifty Fifty chance of survivin’ it- it was a glorious August day and ah wondered how many more ah’d see, if any. Ah vowed then that ah wid worship every sunny day ah’d ever see again. It’s a promise ah’ve kept – so far.

Scrappy Doo was an annoyin’ wee Cunt- ah was watchin’ a daft thing on the You Tube aboot characters who were introduced tae a TV series and Buggered it up. He wasted Scooby Doo and made it instantly forgettable, in an instant( so, there.)….. Pumphy got beat again but we’re no’ bottom of the league- the Sons of the Glorious Revolution( Harthill Royal) are the basement battlers this year so, that’s a bonus. Hibs drew wi’ Dundee United and Cove and Kelty both drew…… Ah’ll have tae work oot how tae start a new paragraph on this thing. Ah’ve still got the New year hangover and ah’ve been sittin’ in ma jammy’s for a fortnight. Ah’ve been oot Three times since the First of January. Ah hate the new year- ah hate the build up tae it ah hate the countdown tae it. Ah think it’s because ye reflect alot at new year- on people who aren’y here and people who ye wish we’re here and aw the mistakes ye’ve made in the past and the mistakes ye’ll make next year- that’s what the new year means for me. It’s just a Shite world at the moment- energy bills, food prices, strikes, Nazis in government, a war in Europe, global warmin’. Aw that gender Pish, tae- what a carry on. When ah was at School ye had Two lines for the dinner hall- ah shudder tae think how many they need these days. …….. New paragraph- So, Jim W sorted oot the website for me- there were quite alot of changes tae the look of it. Ah’m gaunny devote mare time tae the website and less time tae the Pusbook- just get’s me intae trouble. Jeff Beck died and ah had a wee Spotify night of ma favourite songs of his. Ah love People get ready and Nadia. He was Seventy Eight. Ah’m stoppin’ here for dinner- ah’ll be back.

Well, that’s that then, 2022, nearly at an end and what a year it’s been- Three Prime Ministers, Two monarchs, a World Cup in December (wi’ a Final Hat Trick for the loser)- Nurses strikin’ for the first time in- ever, Government corruption under oor noses, gaun unpunished, mayhem in the Whitehoose and an invasion and war in Europe- and aw that before PELE died. Hibs have been up and doon like the Assyrian empire- One minute they’re knockin’ the Ba’ aboot like the 1970 Brazilians and the next minute they lose Two goals and get a man sent off. Scotland were awright this year- still didny qualify for the World Cup in the Desert, but we’re a better watch, these days. Jock Stein said that tae qualify for the World Cup ye wear yer workin’ claes and ye put on yer Sunday best for the finals- ah’m quite sure that, had we qualified, this tournament wid’ve ended up like aw the others where we’ve no’ taken any claes at aw. The Three days of mournin’ for King Charles’ beloved Mama( ah mean, who even talks like that these days?- Fuck off) was the longest Six months of ma life- ah felt as if ah was in a nightmarish Acid trip that ah couldny get away fae. Like aw ordeals, it ended and we had the fiasco of the Three Baw Bags- Johnson, Truss and Sunak tae follow( or in the middle of it ah suppose).  Aye, it’s been a Shite year. Bordeaux in late March and early April wi’ Davy and Callum was great- apart fae the abject discomfort and misery of walkin’. Ah was glad tae get back tae sittin’ on ma erse in Pumphy. Ah woman in front of Davy and I at the Airport on the way home thought ah was havin’ a heart attack and got a queue person tae get me a shortcut through the crowd. Nice One. Since then ah’ve continued tae abuse ma body wi’ tobacco, Grass and Whisky- too late tae stop noo, ah suppose. Ah’ve had a bit of bother wi ma feet and legs and the odd dizzy spells, but other than that ah’ve been fine- apart fae this Cunt of a cough that ah’ve had for weeks. Ah only cough when ah smoke. Ah’ve got a fat belly and it gets me doon- ah canny walk far, so ah canny walk it off. Anyway, another year wi’ naebody close bitin’ the big yin and that was good. We’re aw at that age where we could drop deid anytime. 11pm- an hour of the auld year left. For the year ahead- “ah hope tae see another summer, cos if ah dinny, it’ll be a Bummer, the sights, the sounds, the smells, the tastes, tae miss them wid be an awfy waste”.  That came intae ma heid the other day- ah should concentrate on ma website instead of the Pusbook. Ah have tae stop bein’ the Henry Gondorf who was pissed in the bath and be the Henry Gondorf who won at cairds on the Train( the Great Escape is still great and Trains play a part in that,tae)- a bit more exercise, cut doon- on the fags, stop eatin’ biscuits and Chocolate and sweeties – stop bein’ a Tit.–Ah’m Sixty in a Hundred days time- ah’m still the hairy ersed laddie ah was when auld Scud died.  On the Eleventh of this month auld Scud wid’ve been a Hundred- so, a wee Uigeadail will be sipped in his memory. Ah often think aboot what he was daein’ at ma age- he was an unhappy man in an unhappy marriage married tae a woman who probably took Ten years off his life. Ah’m no’ very happy or contented masel and ah’m waitin’ tae die if ah’m bein’ honest. Ma Strings or Angioplasty thing wid be life transformin’ for me but ah’ll probably get the OK letter for it the day efter ah die. Ah’m stoppin’, noo, just in case this develops intae a suicide note.

So, that’s that then- the Queen is dead, long live the King. Ah canny deny that ah felt a wee tinge of sadness at auld Lizzie’s passin’. Ah’m nae monarchist or Royalist but she was a face and a presence ah’ve known aw ma life and it is a Jesus Christ things will be different noo, time in aw oor lives. Everything will Change- Bank notes, coins, stamps- it’s the King’s highways noo, and King’s Councils at court and every other thing that had Queen before it will have King before it noo. Ah thought the wee Paddington thing was awfy nice and she looked a frail, but happy, contented wee woman. She was born in the same year as auld Bunty and ah actually thought of auld Bunty when ah saw the Queen rattlin’ her spoon on her saucer at the start of that Queen( the group) song. It will probably be ma abidin’ image of her -that and her Marmalade Sandwich in her hand bag. Awfy nice and poignant and aw the other words ah could use tae put it in a positive light- but, FFS let’s have some normal back. Ah feel as if Three days of news and constant coverage has just fallen on ma heid and smothered me. It’s a nice opporchancity tae listen tae Kirsty Wark and Kirsty Young speakin’, which is always a wee joy, ah also feel as if ma next Five days and more will be dominated by Royal Shit. WHO the Fuck did Penny Mordaunt shag tae get that job at Charlie’s swearin’ in ceremony?. It’s like bein’ in a bad dream or bad sleep that ye canny get away fae. Aw the nonsense and pomp and ceremony- gie’s a brek- just Five minutes of other news wid be nice.

Ma insomnia insists- Saturday and Sunday didny exist sleep wise- Sunday night’s sleep was intermittent, tae say the least. So, on Monday night ah’m fully expectin’ a good sleep( at Half One in the morning) when ah went tae ma bed, after bein’ awake for almost Forty Oors. Did ah get a guid sleep ?- did ah Fuck. Ah couldny sleep and ah tossed and turned constantly and got oot ma bed at Six tae get ma milk in, efter Two weeks of gettin’ up at mad times and findin’ that the milk had turned tae curds and whey( which sounds like a comedy duo who their audience can only remember One of them ( ma Grammar seems a bit off, there) – Ah forgot what ah was on aboot and had tae go back a couple of lines. So, efter another Shite sleep, ah was stirred at mid-day when the big C phoned tae say he was thinkin’ aboot comin’ doon for a blether. Ah said, as ah always dae, nae problem, ah’ll pit the Kettle oan and hung up. Luckily, he said he’d be doon at 1pm, because when ah hung up ah realized ah was soakin’ wi’  sweat – ma hair and neck were drippin’ wi’ sweat, ma torso was drippin’ wet, the pilly was soakin’ -tae the point where there was a wee damp patch on the pilly underneath ma top pilly- the other mattressy  thing that Linda got me for movin’ in was soakin’. It was fuckin’ alarming and ah actually panicked at the amount ah had sweated durin’ the Shite, intermittent, nightstand sleep ah’d just had. Ah ran through tae the toilet and immediately put the shower on, hardly waitin’ for it tae heat up( and it’s a Cunt tae heat up quick enough at the best of times). Ah have tae Quarter turn a thing between the Two taps at the same time as turnin the hot lever on, otherwise the water’ll come oot the taps instead of the shower heid, which is fine if ah’m wantin’ a shower at ma leisure- but ah bulletted through like a man possessed, thinkin’ what the eff is gaun oan. The exertion fae daein’ that put ma heart rate right up and ah got aw paranoid – the last time ah sweated that profusely was when ah was havin’ ma heart attack. It was Biblical- the torrent of sweat that flooded off ma body- and ah hadny a clue what was happenin’ tae me- gaspin’ for air that wisny there, no’ knowin’ at the time it was because ma Lungs were fillin’ wi’ ma ain body fluids. If there was a God, and ah know that there isny, and ah feel quite confident in that assumption- ah wid thank him, or her( and, that’s it, ah don’t effin’ care who ah offend wi’ just sayin’ him or her-in the history of Humans ( or HuWomans, or HumanWomankind( that’s what the People’s Front of Judea wid argue aboot, ah canny be fuckin’ bothered. Anyway, if there was a God( or Goddess) ah wid praise him( or her). Fuck yer ‘ theys’ or ‘It’s’ or ‘whay’s’ or ‘why’s’- like ah said, if yer offended by that, Fuck ye, ah don’t care. In the Century ah was born in, there were men and women. There were men who fancied women and there were women who fancied men- there were women who fancied women and men who fancied men. Growin’ up ah saw Ben the Dug try tae have sexual relations wi’ other male Dugs – ah’ve seen other male Dugs try tae have sexual relations wi’ Ben the Dug- and ah think – ‘So what’  they’re no daein’ anybody or thing any harm, good luck and ah hope yer happy, but when ye hear aw that political correct Shite aboot ‘it’ and ‘they’ and Trans sexuals and a new letter gettin’ added on every month tae the already bulgin’ list of letters they have noo, for aw that stuff – takes aboot Two days tae say them aw. Ah went away fae the main plot there-  ah was talkin’ aboot sprintin’ intae the shower. Before talkin’ aboot that, ah didny mention that ah’d been hallucinatin’ and when planes were flyin’ over, ah was hearin’ things- like Four or Five people speakin’ at Once, just slightly further away than the crowd listenin’ tae Jesus at the beginnin’ of The Life of Brian who heard, apparently, that the Greeks were going to take over the world- so, that seemed tae be a portent of no’ very good things tae come. When ah got under the shower ah felt unsteady on ma feet, but, after a minute of that and a strange paranoia, ah calmed doon and the rest of the day was OK. It’s half Eight in the mornin’ and ah’m tryin tae phone the health centre for a phone appointment – so, ah’m havin’ a wee break.

Today was rough as Fuck and ah’m glad it’s done wi’. Tae be honest, since gettin’ back tae Pumphy fae the Train journey tae Arrochar ah’ve had the Black Dug. It had been such a great day wi’  Linda and Chris and Davy- the food and drink was amazin’, the scenery was stunnin’- a jolly day was had by all. Contrast that wi’ the ‘back tae normal’ of Pumphy and what dae ah end up wi’ ?. a realization of how Shite ma normal is. Ah can hardly walk- ah’m fat- a beer belly and Dolly Parton Tits- as a result of bein’ a virtual prisoner in ma ain hoose, dizzy spells where ah get cauld awfy quick and have tae sit doon. Fuck knows what that is. For some reason ah’ve been strugglin’ tae sleep as well. Ah’ve no’ seen the wee Cat for a few days, noo. Ah’ve got tins of Cat food and a carton of Cat treats for the wee Bugger. Ah’m gaun tae chap the door of the woman in the next block, who’s Cat it is, and ask her if it’s OK. Was gettin’ fond of the wee thing and ah hope it’s no’ been knocked doon. Liz Truss as PM- what the fuck is aw that aboot?.  So, ah ended up lookin’ at the knife ah use tae shave the pollen off the lump ah’ve got – but ah thought ‘Fuck that’.  Ah couldny kill masel( well, ah am smokin- which is the same thing as suicide in a roond aboot way) wi’ violence- ah’ll day it One day wi’ the Amitriptylines and some Whisky- no’ yet, though.