The end of an ERa. Sept 10, 2022.

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.

Whisky, no’ quite, Galore.Sept 7,2022 6am.

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.

Dodgin’ a Bullett

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.


What a C –t.

The last couple of weeks have been an ordeal. Soon, ah’ll no’ be able tae walk- ah’m stoppin’ every Two minutes and ah’m gettin’ fat- throw insomnia intae the mix and it aw makes for a Shite quality of life. One of these days ah’ll have a daft turn and swally aw the Amitriptylines. Felt like that today walkin’ up and doon fae the shop and it’s only aboot Two or Three Hundred yards.

Tales fae the good ship Scud.

The train journey on the Northern Belle was great- the fab Four( the Broons) had a great time, thanks tae Davy’s generosity. In Monopoly ye get the chance/ Community chest cards wi’ Your annuity has matured or ye’ve won money- ah think Davy gets aboot Three o’ them a week. Davy’s always guid- wi’ money- ah’m fuckin’ Shite. Anyway, the train tae Arrochar and Bus journey tae Inveraray castle for a wee walkaboot was great. Ah wish ah could remember what ah had tae eat but ah’ve been wasted on the Valium aw week. Ah’ll have tae give them up- on top of the Amitriptyline and Prozac and the Bob Hope, they’re a bit much. Ah’ve had the Black Dug aw week and done alot of sleepin’ and very little eatin’. Walkin’ has become an ordeal and ah’m thinkin’ if ye canny walk what the fuck can ye dae?. Ah put the grill on tae light a joint and smoked it,then went tae ma bed for a wee nap. The wee nap ended up bein’ Six oors- and ah’d left the grill on- and the kitchen was like the Equator. Dodged a bullet wi’ that One and could’ve ended up toasted. Ma cough isny shiftin’ and ah just feel lethargic aw the time. Ah find that when ah’m in company ah’m fine and upbeat – fuck it -ah’m gettin’ depressed just writin’ this. Hopefully the next entry will be a bit more light-hearted.


The weather’s been great this summer – heat waves in Portugal, Spain, France- here. Rivers and reservoirs dryin’ up, forest fires- it’s aw quite scary when ye put it aw together but if ah keep gettin’ summer tans like the One ah’ve got the noo, keep global warmin’ comin’. The tail end of March was Mediterranean in Pumphy- proper get in there warm weather. Ah thought if it was like that here, how hot was Bordooks gaun tae be?. No’ very, was the answer tae that. Of ma many visits tae Bordooks the last was the least enjoyable. Ah was effed wi’ walkin’. The walk tae the L’Escure was brutal- if ah had a gun ah wid’ve shot masel. Ah enjoyed the Rugby, though, between Bordeaux and La Rochelle- hadny a clue what was gaun on but there was a great atmosphere( as always) in the auld stadium. Nae big Jessie’s in that sport, unlike the beautiful game (Fitba’) which has turned intae the Portrait of Dorian Gray( mare later on that). Rugby’s tough and if they go doon it’s because it’s sair or they’re deid. Watchin’ grown men on a Fitba’ pitch droppin’ like a fly and rollin’ aboot the pitch is embarrassing. .. Aye, so Bordooks was a bit sair on the legs, but still great. Sing at the Bing was guid- the crowd and the company and the weather, at least- ah canny remember any of the music because ah was too busy bletherin’. If Four Broons are gathered in One place there will be bletherin’. Ah went tae the Fringe at the Bing(at the Pumphy Bowlyseum) and recited Tam the Wanker, tae great laughter and applause, which was awfy nice. …………                                                       Health wise, ah’ve no’ had many problems – ah get wee aches and pains all over but ah’m glad tae be alive.

The Dug returns

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.

The big Yelly Van.

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.

New Year same auld Fuck ups

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’.

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.