Ah had tae type aw this Twice. Anyway, ah’ve just returned fae a visit tae Black Dug land and it was Shite as usual. Ah’m listenin’ tae ‘ Watermelon in Easter Hay’ by Frank Zappa and it’s sublime . The West Calder High School friends website got me thinkin’ aboot life and school days, and growin up and the jobs that ah’ve had and the Women ah’ve known. Luckily ah dinny have tae work because ma body is Fucked, basically, thanks tae over Forty years of Nicotine and Marijuana abuse. Fags are Shit but ah love a joint, or at least ah love bein’ stoned and listenin’ tae ma music or daein’ the Sudoku. Aye, jobs- in ma days of employment ah’ve only had Three bosses who ah wid’ve happily watched bein’ in a freak accident involvin’ a runaway Combine Harvester and a corkscrew. Two of them were English, funnily enough, and they were a couple of Cunts- no’ because they were English, they were just Cunts. Ah’ve had bosses who were English who were wonderful, kind people- ye can do somethin’ aboot bein’ a Cunt- ye’ve got tae accept bein’ English, in the knowledge that, wherever ye go in the world, everybody’s goin’ tae think yer a Cunt, regardless of the fact that, chances are, ye’ll be a kind wonderful person. ……. Got the Bordeaux insurance sorted Davy B’s was Twelve quid- 73 Quid for mine. So, it’s official, Davy B is Sixty One Quid healthier than me–fuckin’ annoyin’ that there isny a pound sign on the keyboard- ah have tae type ‘ quid’ in. Davy B also mentioned that he was thinkin’ aboot gettin’ me a wheelchair for Bordeaux- that’s how fucked ah am. Hash tea and Fag patches fae noo on.
For anybody growin’ up in a wee Village in the 1970’s, the Big Yelly Van wid’ve been a common sight pickin’ up the Loonies and dafties of the day and takin’ them away tae the ‘special’ School for a day oot. Noo, they’re special needs or learnin’ difficulties people- are they bothered what we call them? -ah don’t think. Anyway, away back in the day we aw’ probably knew people or were related tae people who were on the Bus, or should’ve been on the Bus. Pumphy was Loony Central- when the big Bus came intae the Village there wid be the driver and the dafty who liked tae sit beside the driver and wave at everybody and anything. Behind him wid be the Windie licker who’s tongue was at the top of the windie and who’s chin was at the bottom of the windie- and that was the passenger roll call. Four Hours later, when the Bus was leavin’ for the next Village for a pick up, the Bus resembled One of those Trains in India- there were folk sittin’ on the roof, hingin on tae the exhaust pipe, fightin’ each other other for a bit of Bumper. There was nae point in the Bus gaun anywhere else- the special School wid’ve been shut for the day by the time it left Pumphie. At least the Pumphy Posse and the other Two got a wee Bus journey oot it. Ah’ve no’ seen a big Yelly Van for years, although noo that ah’m back in Pumphy it might become a regular sight again. Ah sometimes envy those special needs people- tae be removed fae the ‘normal’ World and aw it’s woes and tae be removed fae yer own mind and aw it’s woes and worries wid be nice. Ah got up oot ma bed at Midnight( after a Sixteen Hour sleep) and ah felt wide awake, obviously. Ah had the last of ma Whisky( no’ opened the Uigeadail yet- that’ll get opened when Scotland qualify for the World Cup Finals or ah get a shag.
Well, that’s the 2021 show over and done wi’ and it was a year of jags and Boosters and this fuckin’ COVID wearin’ everybody doon. Ah got ma wee unexpected wind fall and that was the highlight ah suppose. Pissed a Thousand Quid up against the wa’ in Grass and Whisky, which, in hindsight ah could’ve done without daein’- but, hey ho, Fuck it. Ma holiday tae Bordeaux wi’ the sons of Boabby Thomson is paid for and possibly a nice wee return tae Sorrento next year- so ah didny blaw the lot. Ah don’t know what ah’m expectin’ this year. Death, ah suppose, if this Cough persists in bein’ persistent- ah got away wi’ it for the last Six years, so by the law of averages ah’ll be deid soon. Ah get alot of tinglin’ in ma arms and feet which can be a bit unnervin’ at times. On ma hands and toes, just where the skin ends and the nail begins, it gets awfy dry and nippy and ah get a bit breathless, which really unsetles me. The breathlessness reminds me of the Heart Attack and it can bring a bit of panic on. Scotland are in guide shape Fitba’ wise. Ah was at the Israel qualifier at Hampden and that was amazin’- a brilliant atmosphere- a massive highlight of ma year. As was flittin’ fae Fort Apache and that wee androgynous Cunt of a neighbour- it’s so good bein’ away fae aw that Shite. Hope the wee Cunt dies in a freak Yachtin’ accident. Ah drank alot of Whisky over the year, maybe Forty bottles, which is too much by anybody’s standards. As Chrissie B said, ah can maybe afford One addiction but no’ Two- so that’s a thing ah can make a dent in cuttin’ doon. The fags and joints are a different Ba’ game, though. Ah love gettin’ stoned and that’s that.
In the beginnin’ there were Three Middle Eastern Gentlemen( or Ladies) sittin’ in the shade because that and countin’ Camels was aw they had tae occupy their minds. One day it came tae pass that it was too hot even for the Camels so the Three shady Gentlemen( or Ladies) came up wi’ the idea of makin’ up the biggest lot of Camel dung they could think of that awfy gullible people wid believe. The first One, who we’ll call Christy, came up wi’ a supreme omnipresent spirit who made the world in under a week and who in a later chapters of his story had a son on Earth who died and came back tae life and went up tae visit his father and who will come back tae save everybody. The second One we’ll call Bernie and he had a similar beginnin’ tae his story- they end up havin’ an awfy time and they’ve no’ had a Messiah yet. The Third( Issy) is the new kid on the block and the pish in his book is as nonsensical as the other Two.
Got ma eyes looked at today- everything seems tae be fine but the Doc said if ah get any floaters ah’ve tae phone right away. Still got this Cunt of a cough, which has lasted, noo, for quite a time. Ah wish ah could be more upbeat at the moment. Ah’m sleepin’ alot these days- ah get up, take ma tablets, have a wee joint and a wee Whisky and ah’m ready for a lie doon. Then, ah have a lie doon for a few hours, get up, take ma tablets, have a wee joint and a Whisky then go for a lie doon. Ah’m turnin’ intae a split personality- jovial and ootgoin’ oot with the flat but a miserable Git inside. Aw this Shite will probably overwhelm me One day. Ah forgot tae mention that ah was at the Scotland Israel qualifier in October- how the Fuck could ah forget that. What an atmosphere, what a game- beatin’ Denmark a month later was epic and One of the great Scottish performances. Anyway, back tae this year and January, February, March, April and May were uneventful. June, ah remember because ah thought the Bank had made an awfy error and given me a not inconsiderable amount of money. Ah’d had a Pound in ma account and Chris transferred Fifty Quid tae it. Ah nipped off tae the Cash line tae get the Fifty Quid and looked at the account balance- Christ and Jesus were uttered at that moment( but not necessarily in that order). Ah nipped intae the Bank tae tell them there was some mistake in ma account and the nice wee lady told me it had been paid in. Ah pissed a fair amount of it up against the wa by way of Marijuana and Whisky but a got masel a Nice Camera, a Tablet and the holiday in Bordooks is all paid for. Still got enough tae get another holiday and a prostitute for the night( in case ah get terminally ill- no way ah’m departin the Planet without gettin a last shag. Anyway, ah’ve no eaten today and it’s nearly Midnight- the apostrophes seem tae have vanished.
Well, that’s nearly that for the year and as ah’ve been a bit sparse wi’ ma contributions tae the site ah’ve decided tae put a wee shift in. Health wise it’s been no’ too bad- apart fae the pain and discomfort when ah walk which, hopefully, will get sorted when ah get the Steint thing put in. It can be a bit soul destroyin’ at times and the Shite circulation is the main source of my visits fae the Black Dug. This last month has been a particular Cunt Black Dug wise. Ah think ah’ve got a thing- like that Bi Polar thing. Ah couldny present the Scud Broon who never goes oot and lives in his Jammies tae people ah meet in the street. Folk wid think ah was a miserable Cunt. In company ah’m really upbeat and ootgoin’ – as soon as the door shuts on the World ah turn intae an awfy morose C–t. No’ aw the time, mind you, – ah love a laugh and if ah feel ah’m descendin’ intae the black hole, a dose of Benny Hill or the life of Brian will drag me up laughin’. Another great comfort blanket for me is watchin’ the 1970 Brazil team on the You Tube. Clodoaldo said ‘We had Five Aces- Pele, Tostao, Gerson, Rivelinho and Jairzinho- a pack of cards only has Four’. The Fourth goal for Brazil is, for me, and almost everyone else( ah say almost because there will be a contrarian Cunt oot there who’ll disagree- there’s always One) the greatest goal ever scored in any final, let alone, the World Cup final. There are nae words for that goal- just facial expressions ranging fae awe tae wonder tae a wee sadness that we’ll never see Fitba’ like that again. Ah’ve waited Fifty years and ah’ve never seen anything like it since. Ah’m up in the mornin’ for the Opthalmologist appointment so ah’ll sign off and write more tomorrow.
Scotland beatin’ Denmark at Hampden was brilliant- the best ah’ve ever seen them play and a notch above beatin’ European Champions, Czechoslovakia, in 1977 and Euro 84 runners up, Spain, not long after they’d lost to the France of Platini, Tigana and Giresse. Hibs beatin’ Rangers at Hampden was great. Other than that the last month has been a bit Shite.
Fuck sake, what a week that was. Monday(25th) was the Sixth anniversary of ma near fatal Heart Attack, so a celebrated wi’ big Callum, a bottle of Old Pulteney and half a bottle of Tamnavulin. Ah remember spillin’ half a bag of Sugar and half a jar of Coffee on the floor, so it was probably a good night. Ah’ve been sent tae Coventry wi’ Linda and Andrew for a couple of Pus book posts ah put up. Ma post aboot the Tory MP gettin’ stabbed was way over the top and ah regret puttin’ it up on Facebook. It was Ned-ish and out of order and ah’m sorry ah posted it. It caused a wee stir among ma family, tae say the least, and ah wish ah’d watched Camilla Creampie on the Tablet instead. Ah stand by ma questioning of Walter Smith’s legendary status, though. Anyway, it’s been a Shitey week and ah’ve slept through most of it- the Vietnam War documentary was great and ah thoroughly enjoyed it. Ah missed the episode that covered the Mai Lai massacre, so ah watched a You Tube thing aboot it. There was another massacre on the same day where almost a Hundred innocents were slaughtered- and that was aboot Two miles fae Mai Lai. Ah was thinkin’ aboot Tories and royalty and aw that landed Gentry- a Thoosand years the chinless inbred Cunt’s have controlled anything that’s controllable. Parliament, Law, employment, everything, and ye still get those Tits who’ll wave their wee Union Jacks and tell ye that we need the House of Lords- Fuck off. The same people who go on aboot Winston Churchill and how he won the war. The Americans and Russians won the war- we were gettin’ shat on untill they came on tae the scene- if they hadny, we’d aw be Goose-stepping up tae the Sausage shop whistlin’ Lilly effin’ Marlene. Time for somethin’ tae eat- ah’ll get back tae bein’ a crabbit Cunt.
Ah had a great day today wi’ the Broons- a full hoose- it’s no often the Four of us get together so it was brilliant. Nick and big Di were here, too, and we aw had a great laugh. It got me thinkin’, when they’d headed back doon tae Hawick, aboot growin’ up in Pumphy in the late Sixties and early Seventies. There seemed tae be a weird amount of Brothers and Sisters who still lived together into their Sixties- there were Five families in Harrysmuir North, alone. Maybe Harrysmuir North was seen as ‘possible incest St’- ah don’t know. In those Five families there were Fifteen Brothers and Sisters and One mother who was a cantankerous auld Cunt who tried tae spoil oor fun at every chance she got. Anyway, the big Yelly Dafty Bus wid come in tae Pumphy Once a week tae take the Lunatics off the grass and away tae the special school at Oakbank( ah think) a couple of miles away. They should’ve spent Three or Four Hours at the special school but the Bus picked so many people up at Pumphy that ah think they got Twenty minutes playin’ wi’ Crayons and swappin’ bogies. When the Bus first arrived in Pumphy there was the driver and Popeye the Sailor man behind him, wavin’ at everythin’ and awthing- by the time the Bus left Pumphy it looked like One of those over crowded trains in India- folk hangin’ fae the roof , on the wing mirrors, the bumpers- mental.